#(unless you pester me with questions about it >:])

[moominvalley-state-of-mind]

am i even invested in a story if i dont have a Beetlejuice AU, yet to see the light of day that is solely based off of one couple that i think fits Barbra and Adam?

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[fushiguro-megloomy]

request: [modern au] headcannons for childhood friends to lovers  pairing: viktor x gn!reader tags: nothing bad, very sfw, fluffy notes: ill be so for real with you i feel like i'm very weak at doing headcannons ;-; but i tried. i hope this is what you were looking for anon <3 divider from enchanthings-a

You’d known Viktor for as long as you could remember, his house across the street from yours. As a curious kid, you’d often linger while he tinkered with small projects, asking questions. Your friendship really solidified one summer when your bike broke, and Viktor fixed it with surprising enthusiasm. To repay him, you let him ride on the handlebars while you scooted him around the neighborhood.

He's absolutely critiquing your work before the teachers even get their hands on it. Sitting beside you at your desk clump, thick eyebrows pulled together and scribbling little “???” or just straight up “no” in the margins of your handwriting. You always glare at him but you're secretly grateful. 

He's observant, if you were hungry or tired he would wordlessly slide snacks onto your desk. He's not the best with social queues, but he knows when you're upset and he'll hover around you awkwardly until he blurts some random fact or sarcastic comment meant to distract you.

He's easily jealous, but in the way that he gets pouty, throwing himself into projects and denying anything is even wrong.

Definitely getting into squabbles all the time bickering like an old married couple

He's always gave you something handmade for your birthday. You still have it all. He's not big on his own birthdays but you always bring him a homemade cupcake.

This is not an original thought but he's definitely a gossip, ESPECIALLY as you grow into teen-hood. Not outwardly, but still he would unleash all his unfiltered opinions onto you, and his face definitely gives him away when he's silently judging someone. Mans got a wicked side eye.

Viktor had taken over his parents’ garage as his workshop, and it quickly became your second home. Most of your free time was spent perched on a stool, watching him work or pestering him with questions. You fell asleep there so often that he eventually squeezed a secondhand couch into the tiny space, insisting you needed somewhere more comfortable to crash.

You're each other's first kiss, but it doesn't happen until senior year. You're in his garage, complaining about never having kissed someone and he's like alright so let's kiss??? Things spiral from there.

“I mean, what kind of tragic story is that?” you grumble, tossing a pillow at him. “Eighteen and never kissed anyone. I’ll be the cautionary tale for future students.”  Viktor chuckles softly but doesn’t look up from his work. “I don’t see what the rush is. It’s not as if it matters.” “It matters to me,” you insist, sitting up. “Don’t you want to at least know what it’s like?” He stared at you for a moment, then let out a sigh, setting his tools aside. “Alright, then.” You blinked at him, confused. “Alright what?” He stepped closer, hands slipping into his pockets as he looked down at you. “Let’s kiss.” Your heart skipped a beat. “What?!” “You’re complaining about it, so, we kiss, you stop worrying about it, and we both move on. Simple.” His voice was steady, but the faint pink rising to his cheeks betrayed him. “You’re serious?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Unless you’re too scared.” That did it. “I’m not scared,” you snapped, standing to face him. “Good,” he murmured, leaning in just enough for you to feel his breath against your lips. “Then stop talking.” Before you could come up with a retort, his lips pressed against yours, soft and careful. It was brief but left you reeling, your heart pounding as he pulled back. “Well?” he asked, tilting his head. “That should suffice, no?” You stared at him, dumbfounded, before bursting into laughter. “Yeah… yeah, I guess it’ll do.” He smirked, turning back to his workbench, though the tips of his ears were unmistakably red. “You’re welcome.” It was just a kiss, you told yourself. But as you sat back down, touching your lips absentmindedly, you couldn’t help but wonder why your heart was still racing.

©lilsworks 2024

[074calicocat]

PEACHES & SPIT

──★ 🍑 ̟ !! Leon is too old to be going back and forth with you. so when you want to have your way with him a particular way, he really has no choice but to say yes.

cw: Di Leon x fem!reader. sub-ish!Leon. RIMMING! SHOVING YOUR TONGUE IN A (washed) OLD AND HAIRY ASSHOLE! MEN IN PINK LINGERIE! ball sucking, handjob, reader is a little shit, Leon is old and tired. the good stuff.

note: hello. @rigorwhoring @kcolrom. i'm 🏩 anon and yes I was the one sending those asks about Leon's asshole and yes this was supposed to be posted on Monday. moving on. this probably sounds really janky by the end so either I hope you find this okay or you find this laughable. either way I had fun writing this, shoutout to Quora for the insider scoop about rimjobs. and for @rigorwhoring I hope you know that you're an incredibly talented writer and I love reading your work. happy early father's day!

Vulnerability is not Leon’s forte.��

So when you’ve been pestering him with questions for the past half hour, he’s rightfully anxious. 

“Have you ever fucked a guy, Leon?” You’re supposed to be sleeping, but instead you’re lying on his chest like an oversized cat, absent-mindedly staring at his screen as he tries to scroll through Facebook. Ever since you’ve introduced the app to him, he’s suddenly developed the nosiness of a bored housewife.

“No. I haven’t.” He sounds a little crabby as he responds, but the words “guys” and “fucking” don’t bode well in his mind. Makes him think of blond hair and a particular scar on the lip. Which could mean nothing. It does mean nothing and the last thing he wants to do is talk about it with you. 

But unfortunately, you catch onto his dismay, and before he knows it, he’s nose-to-nose with a frowning you. 

“You sound defensive.”

“Am not.” And now you have him frowning. Pouting like a petulant kid. 

“Am too.” You raise an eyebrow at him as if to silently sass him, the wisp of a curious grin on your lips. “Are you into guys?”

“No.” ….Not really. 

“Are you into butt stuff?” you ask and so casually too as if you asked about the weather. It catches him off guard, and now it’s his turn to raise an eyebrow, only with half the sass. “Assfucking or anal or whatever they call it?”

“Yeah…no, not-”

“Liar.” It’s a good thing age has given Leon patience. “I have psychic vision. The spirits told me you want a fist up your ass,” you giggle out in such an innocent voice he has the mind to whack you on the head. But that’s domestic violence. And that’s bad.

He retorts, “Are you two?” as he pushes you away, having you sit upright. “And besides, why’re you asking? You wanna fist me?”

“Rim you, actually,” you correct him so smoothly that you manage to surprise him again tonight. So either you really are a psychic or you’ve gone through his search history and found the bookmarks to his favorite porn videos. Hey, he knows what he likes, so he’s sticking to it. And yet- 

“Absolutely not,” he declares, gently pushing you off of him and sitting up on the bed. Unless you’re magically in a rut or going crazy, he has no idea why you’re bringing this up. It’s honestly a little creepy. 

And of course, you’re whining, “Why not?” in his ear, coming up behind him as you rest your chin on his shoulder. “It’s meant to feel good for you. Please? Lemme give you a rimjob, it’ll be fun. Think of it as an early Christmas gift.”

“It’s April.”

“Early Father’s Day gift.” It’s like you’re trying to kill him. Because, despite all his protests, he can feel himself stirring to life under his sweatpants in the most pathetic way possible. He can’t see your face, but he can already imagine your shit-eating grin. “Please, just lemme do this one thing. We always do what you want to do. I can only pretend to be your daughter so many times before it gets boring.”

“Alright, alright.” Leon forgets how immoral his kinks sound when he’s not balls-deep inside you. “I’ll…sleep on it.” “Yay!” You kiss him on the cheek like he just promised you a pony, and all he can hope for is that you’ll forget about this with a good hour of head and some matcha latte. 

It took you two days to convince Leon to let you give him a rimjob, but it took two weeks to convince him to let you do it while he wears lingerie. 

It’s clear Mama didn’t raise a quitter. Sure, you got on your knees and throated his dick for two whole hours but it was so worth it. Also crying and wailing helped at the end. Because now you have him on the bed in pink lingerie that you picked out to your taste: a soft pink bralette too small for his (begrudgingly) fat tits and a garter belt with stockings; no panties so you’d get the perfect view of his cock flushed and weeping against his softening abdomen. You got The Leon Scott Kennedy in pink lace stockings. No one will ever understand how immense this victory is for you. Just the sight of him all dolled up with his coarse hair poking out the fabric can bring world peace. 

“…Uhh? I don’t think I wanna do this-”

“How many times are you going to say the same thing?” There’s a beat of silence between you and Leon after you cut him off, mainly because you have his legs over your shoulder and your face hovering over his ass. His asshole, to be specific. You’re already here, and he wants to chicken out, no way.

“I feel like you’re worried for no reason,” you continue with a pout, jutting your lips at his tempting pink hole. Not the lightish pink like the tip of his cock, but a little darker. Still a tempting sight, no doubt. It’s not fair, why does it look so…cute? Absolutely unfair. “I’m not going to bite you. Relax..”

Leon doesn’t seem convinced, given the fact that he has even more wrinkles on his face compared to before. But you have a sneaking suspicion he only feels that way because he’s the one who used to have you in the mating press and not the other way around. 

He looks so scared, it’s adorable. Leon reminds you of a hamster sometimes. 

“You look good, Leon,” you reassure, lowering your face to press a lingering kiss on his inner thigh. God, if you had a dick it would’ve blown up from hard it would be. Even with all his wrinkles and greying hair, there’s an unmistakable feminine charm to Leon that you want to drag out. “You look pretty, okay? I love you.”

And something is so soothing about the way Leon’s face relaxes a bit and his eyebrows unpinch. At the end of the day, you really want to do this for him. Is it gross? Maybe. But you know it will be so rewarding making Leon fall apart on your tongue for a change. 

So he nods and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing at his throat. There’s still worry there, a tinge of shame on his face. You want that face gone by the end of the night. 

You start slow. Dragging your tongue over the flesh of his thighs and ass, taking note of the faded stretch marks. So cute. You kept going on, leaving trails of spit and bite marks, reminders that you were in fact all up in his butt. And you could feel him tensing under your touch, your hands firmly holding the back of his thighs. It’s like heaven, feeling the lace under your fingers and seeing that pink bralette on his chest. 

Your eyes flit back to Leon and, oh gods, he looks perfect. Eyes unfocused and cheeks rosy under all his silver stubble. You don’t waver in eye contact with him when you raise your face enough to start making a mess. Slobbering and laving your tongue over his balls, why are they so fat and big? And sensitive too, because you don’t miss the way he whines ever so softly under your breath when you graze your teeth over them. They sit so nicely in your mouth, so well behaved as you suck on them one at a time. Modesty is out the window for you and him because before you know it, your tongue is against his hole and his knees are pressed to his chest.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck-” It slipped your mind that Leon was pushing forty and that there was a (small) chance he’s never been folded like this. Oh well!

And honestly, all you tasted was Irish Spring, a hint of musk, and…hair. Could be worse. Leon gives you head so it’s your turn to do the same. You can feel that the rim of his hole is all puffy as you give it a few kitten licks, lost in the way his body jerks to get closer to your mouth. Slut. You always knew he was into these sorts of things. 

And that only spurs you on. You pull back to spit on his hole and there it was. He straight up moans and his head is thrown back against the pillows, the bra on his chest threatening to snap off with the frantic rise and fall of his chest. You dove back in with vigor, not holding back with the theatrics as you made out with his ass. It’s doubtful that this is a pretty sight for him but you don’t ever want to stop, pushing your tongue past the rim and feeling him clench down on you. 

Spit. Irish Spring. Musk. Leon. It’s like his ass is the gateway to his heart because you’re sucking on his hole like it’s the last thing you do. Like his ass is his face and you’re kissing him like all couples do in their wedding pictures. 

Which reminds you to start dropping hints that he needs to propose to you soon. You can’t keep doing this without a ring, you fear. 

Leon, Leon, Leon. He lies to you, but it’s okay. You know he likes this, you hear his hiccuping whimpers bouncing off the walls and his body trembling. And how helpful of him to hug his own legs to his chest, leaving your hands free to wrap around his cock. The poor head is leaking precum all over his abdomen, smearing into his thick happy trail. So much for not wanting this. You run your thumb over the drooling tip, your free hand idly playing with the thin straps of his garter belt. 

Drool’s pooling down your chin now and you’re dimly aware that your jaw is starting to ache like a bitch. Makes you wonder how Leon can go at this for hours but then again, he never shuts up so it must come naturally. No other reason. His dick presses into your hand like it’s beggging to be touched so you oblige, slowly pumping his length to hear him sing. 

But unless the sound of a dying animal was singing…Leon wasn’t. No, it sounded like he was in pain with the way he gutturally cried out, nails ripping at the silk around his thighs. It almost freaks you out, but you don’t get the chance to pull away because before you know it, he nearly breaks your nose from how violently his body jolts and his load is painting your hand. At least now you know why Leon ended up working for the government instead of casting couches. His moans were less than pleasing. 

But that, in its own way, is endearing to you. You finally pry your face away from his ass, admiring his hole now puffy and slick with your spit. He’s breathing heavily on the mattress, finally letting go of his legs as you rise from the floor and wobble to your feet. The stockings are torn up under the welts and his bralette has rubbed his chest raw, red lines prominent among his pale skin and tufts of silver hair. And his face makes you wish he could be on the cover of Playboy. There’s a bit of drool ebbing down his lips, his eyes are shut, and his lips are a little bloody from how hard he’s bitten them. 

“And you said you weren’t going to enjoy yourself,” you tease, bringing your cum-stained hand to your lips. Your tongue darts out to get a taste and you make a mental note to tell him to lay off the whiskey again. 

And all he does is groan, turning over to his side and curling up. Like a cat or some other domestic animal. Cute. Makes you feel a hint of pride knowing you’re domesticated Leon Kennedy enough to tongue-fuck his ass. “Legs hurt. Cramping. My fucking ass crack is wet.” 

“Don’t complain,” you tut, making your way to the dresser and pulling out some wet wipes to clean up your hands. “I know you liked that. You sounded so….passionate.”

“Just get me out of this shit.” Someone doesn’t sound entertained. So you finally crawl into bed and lie down next to him, and almost immediately, his head is against your chest. You can see the way his eyes and lips crinkle at the corners, and yet he looks so vulnerable as he rests against you. It makes something in you stir, so much so your arms are around him in a heartbeat, holding him close. 

“Thought you wanted me to undress you.”

“...Later,” he grumbles. “And-uh, that didn’t suck at all. So thanks. You’re still weird, though.” And there’s that playful wisp of a smile on his lips again. Just how you like to see him. 

[leaentries]

headcanons | luke hughes

SUMMARY: boyfriend!luke

WARNINGS: not proofread

more boyfriend!player headcanons

✮. he’s a shy lover! luke has a hard time expressing his emotions sometimes, so he often finds himself shying away or hiding his face into the crook of your neck while the two of you have a heart to heart moment. he’ll turn all red a blushy the second you start loving all up on him, especially when you tell him how amazing he is.

✮. PLAYING WITH HIS HAIR!! luke turns to absolute putty the second your fingers come into contact with his curls. like you could just be chillin on the couch and your hands will somehow find the back of his head. no joke, he will literally fall sideways into your lap so you can have a better reach. 9 out of 10 times he will most likely fall asleep.

✮. a huge foodie. loves loves loves to eat with you. we are all aware that the team calls him rusty because he’s always eating. will always have your favorite snacks in his bag so you’re never hungry. is always concerned about whether you’re eating enough or drinking enough. will take it upon himself to be with you for at least one meal of the day. yes, he does have dinner dates with you over facetime during roadies.

✮. along with this, he loves to facetime you! whenever possible, if he’s isn’t with you that is, he wants to be able to see your pretty face and yap to you about the most random things. whether it’s about your toast getting burnt or his charger breaking, you’ll talk about it.

✮. always listens to you intently. luke is the type of guy who will always make eye contact with you while you’re talking and will actively engage with you. he wants to make sure you know he’s listening and cares about what you’re saying. will bend down to your height and lean his ear in closer if you’re on the quieter side.

✮. leaves his clothes at your place on “accident.” new-flash, it’s never on accident. if luke stays at your apartment for more than a few hours there is a 90% chance he’s gonna end up leaving a hoodie or pair of sweats behind. you’ll end up getting a “i’m coming back over” text from him an hour after he left. he does this for two reasons: 1. he makes sure to give himself a legit excuse to come back and see you 2. he knows you’ll probably end up stealing said clothing item and wearing it.

✮. continuing from the last point, luke melts every time you wear something of his or something with his name on it. a little piece inside of him jumps for joy every time he sees you wearing one of his hoodies or showing up to games in his jersey. it helps ease the bit of him that gets insecure sometimes. it’s a way of telling the world that your his girl.

✮. he’s a puppy. period. he follows you around the apartment 24/7 if you’re together. never wants to leave your side unless he absolutely has to. will always pull your body into his in public so his mind is at ease. when his anxiety or worries spike, he is rushing to find or call you. you are his comfort blanket.

✮. let’s you pick out his outfits. luke had a tendency to have questionable style from time to time, so you took the liberty of making sure he is at least matching colors. you are tired. he does not like to listen, but will inevitably always wear what you tell him to.

✮. big napper/snuggler. will cocoon the both of you in blankets till you can barely move. has an alarm on his phone everyday to remind the both of you to take a nap together. doesn’t give you an option about it either. if you don’t feel like napping with him before a game, he will whine and pester you claiming that “it’s your fault if we lose” or “you’re my good luck charm, pretty girl. you have to nap with me or i won’t play good.”

✮. someone please find me a luke hughes

[ixloom819]

Chu Chu (P8)

I finally got this done... Disclaimer: I've never played the pocky game, so this may be inaccurate. This is my first Yan!Sylus request not related to its main story and I'd love to do more! Hopefully I did the request justice...

It was an adjustment being sent to a new world that was meant to mirror yours. Some things were the same, and some were different.

As far as you knew, Love and Deepspace was meant to be an alternate Earth set in the future. Some, if not most, things were the same, like the general structure of society and food.

Others were different such as media. You wished you could show Sylus or the twins some of your favorite shows or music, but they didn’t seem to exist here to your disappointment.

Where it got interesting is where those two mixed and what did and didn’t exist. Which brought you to asking the twins an innocent question.

“Pocky challenge?” Luke tilted his head. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“Then again, we have a limited social circle,” Kieran pointed out.

“That’s true,” you mused. “I’ll have to look it up later.”

“What is it?” Luke asked eagerly. He was always interested in things about your past life. (Kieran was too, but he wasn’t as vocal).

You pause. You would probably never hear the end of it from them if you told them. But then they’d probably pester you until you told them.

“It’s basically a game where two people share a pocky stick and bite their end until they get to the middle,” you explained. “It’s just an excuse for ‘accidental’ kissing, unless someone chickens out-” 

You pause for a second. Straightening adjustment of posture, sporadic chest spasms… “-and there’s an interested third party behind me, isn’t there?”

A pair of strong arms wrapped around your torso as a throaty chuckle rumbled through your body. “Oh, they’re very interested.”

You let out a soft sigh and turned around to face him. “And you were here for how long?”

Sylus smirked at you. “Just at the end.” He pulled you closer. “And what made you bring up this topic?”

You leaned your head against him, enjoying his warmth. “I was curious if it exists in this world.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve heard of it.” Sylus brought his mouth to your ear. “Would you like to introduce it?”

One of the twins, Luke most likely, made a playful gagging noise. “Get a room, boss,” he teased.

Sylus suddenly scooped you up, likely with little effort on his part, causing you to yelp in surprise. “Well if you insist,” he drawled, carrying you away as you laughed and insisted he put you down.

So you weren’t terribly surprised when you came into the office a few hours later to see Sylus holding a box of pockys with a smirk on his face.

“You really like the idea, huh?” you teased, sitting in your chair.

“Of course,” he said smoothly, wheeling his own chair over to you and sitting close enough so your knees touched. “I’ll take any excuse to kiss my love.”

You tried to ignore the way his nickname affected you. “Don’t we have work to do?”

“I’m the boss,” Sylus countered cheekily. “And I approve of a little break.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed.

Sylus drew a pocky stick out of the box and pointed it towards you. “We’re supposed to get to the middle, right?”

“Taking a bite from each side until we get there,” you confirmed.

Sylus twirled the pocky stick in the air. “Normally I enjoy winning games…” He let the pocky slow to a still. “But this is one I wouldn’t mind coming to a draw.”

“I’m sure,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Are you ready?”

To answer, Sylus put the bare end of the pocky stick in his mouth. You leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the other end, the sweet chocolate lingering on your lips.

You heard a crunch from Sylus’ end and you responded by biting your end, pulling the pocky back into your mouth before securing it again with your lips. You both continued this slow, steady motion.

As you drew nearer, you found yourself getting a bit nervous. It was ridiculous, you knew. It was just a kiss.

And yet it had taken you a full year of knowing and loving Sylus before you finally kissed him. And this creeping speed was setting your nerves ablaze.

It’s barely going to be a kiss, you reminded yourself as you drew nearer. Your lips will touch and that’ll be it.

And so it was. When you both finally met in the middle, you felt his lips press against yours, but the pocky didn’t leave room for much else. You bit down on it and pulled back. “Looks like it’s a tie.”

Sylus didn’t look as pleased, putting on a pout. “Darling, that was hardly a kiss,” he complained. “You pulled away far too quickly.”

You smirked, then glanced down at the box of pockys in his hand. “Alright, I’ll do better next time.” Taking the hint, Sylus matched your smirk, then placed another pocky in his mouth and waited for you to copy him.

Once the initial kiss was done, the close proximity didn’t bother you as much. This time, you let your lips linger on his for a few seconds before pulling back.

Sylus’ pout was bordering on a scowl. “This isn’t fun,” he said reproachfully. “You can hardly get a good kiss like this.”

You laughed. “Well, this is more of a game for friends or people who are not that far into a relationship. It’s not quite as fun for people like us who aren’t shy about kissing each other.”

Sylus huffed. “Well, I feel like I deserve a proper kiss for having my expectations unmet.”

An idea started to form and you grinned at him. “What, just because it’s not what you expected, you don’t want to play anymore? C’mon, one more round.”

Sylus sighed, but brought out another stick, holding it in the air for a moment. “Only if you promise to give me a real kiss to quell my disappointment,” he said with his air of amusement.

“Deal,” you answered. Sylus smiled and shook his head, like it was such a bother for him to put up with your antics, but placed the pocky stick in his mouth.

You wasted no time. Once the pocky was securely in your mouth, you pulled the pocky quickly into your mouth, surprising Sylus into letting it go. You kept biting and pulling it into your mouth until the whole thing was chewed and swallowed. Then you gave Sylus a victorious smile and smugly declared, “I win.”

There weren't many times that you could see Sylus off guard. He stared at you now, eyes wide with surprise and his mouth open a bit from where he had held the pocky. You silently hoped Mephisto was watching and could capture the image.

Then Sylus laughed. It wasn’t his rich-boy chuckle of amusement, but a full on laugh. His eyes were shut and crinkled at the end, his mouth had a broad smile on it, and he seemed to be putting his full body into the laugh, his chair rolling backwards a bit. The sight was so unusual and jovial that his laughter became contagious and the room rang with your shared laughter.

“I have to say… I didn’t expect that,” Sylus said once he calmed down enough. “You know how to keep me on my toes, dear.”

You giggled, still coming down from your laughing high. “You’re hard to surprise. I’ll take any opportunity I can get.”

“So you did.” Sylus pulled out another pocky stick.

“I thought you wanted a kiss after this,” you said, partly teasing and genuinely confused.

Sylus’ gaze darkened as his lips curled into a smirk. “Oh darling,” he purred, “you should know that I’m not a man who likes to lose.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, electricity crackling in the room. You couldn’t tell if you were excited or scared of whatever was going to happen as you slowly moved to wrap your lips around the pocky.

He moved like lightning, the pocky disappearing into his mouth before they met yours. It wasn’t the chaste peck on the lips as you had done before, but the kind of kiss that made your head spin and your body melt.

You vaguely worried for Sylus’ safety. Surely he should be choking on the pocky stick he nearly inhaled… But as your hands automatically cupped Sylus’ face, you felt irregular bumpiness beneath his cheeks. Ah, so that’s where it went…

You gently broke the kiss and the two of you sat there, your breaths intermingling and hitting each other’s face, like a silent prompt to continue.

“You had me worried for a moment,” you said once you had regained your wits. “I wouldn’t want you to choke on a pocky just to win.”

Sylus let out a slight scoff. “I’ve survived worse.”

“I don’t know how well your Evol could protect you from a choking hazard,” you said teasingly, though you couldn’t deny the limits of Sylus’ Evol was something of great interest to you.

“Then there would be no better way I’d like to go out than with your lips on mine,” Sylus murmured as he pulled you into another kiss.

[walnutcookie]

Hello. I enjoy Rodger and Glisten and Toodles ..

I've never played the game before HEL I don't play Roblox but I like these guys. And vee and shelly I don't know anything about anyone else you should enlighten me /silly

LEAPS AT YOUUUU /VPOS OHMY GOD IM. AGQWOHROAHWOBFKF LOSES MY MINF /POS THESE ARE SO YUMMYYY I FUCKING ADORE YOUR ART STYLE. OH MY GOD... your rodger ohhuhghh. i loves him.

Ok my best effort to keep this brief: rodger is confirmed to be a father figure to toodles (most commonly just headcanoned to be her father, thats my hc too) :33 theyre so very silly... rodger is a detective and toodles is just a kid but she REALLY loves helping people, theres one line of dialogue where shes asking rodger if she can help and hes just like "hahaha....maybe another time" and theres another where toodles asks to hear about his cases and hes like "ummmm idk" if you know cookie run theyre like major almond and walnut vibes to me which. cough. gestures to my url. gestures to my name (almond). I wonder why i like these characters. anyways i dont know if rodger is perhaps a bit overprotective or maybe just doesnt like people getting involved in his work but i like to think its the first one ,,, Toodles is his whole world so she has to suffer the horrors of walking around covered in mental bubble wrap womp womp (how bad could his work be anyways bro "scraps stole sprouts juice box" is the most hes dealing with/j)

ok hi this is almond from the future writing this post now this has been sitting in my drafts for so long 😭 sorry if theres some inconsistency i dont remember what i was writing for this...

uhhhh. Idk what i was yapping about before but long story short rodger is like super fuckin nosy. to the point where he has a reputation in gardenview and all the toons know hes just going to pester them with questions LOL.

Glisten is so very silly hes got a HUUUGE ego but also deep insecurities. He has an obsession with being "perfect" to a self-destructive extent (depicted through some of his dialogue with the other toons and some of the notes in his room) i need to study him like a buggg /aff. despite his ego and self-centeredness he doesnt like putting other people down (unless they insult him first) he just likes praise and attention from other people. His twisted version and the notes in his room also highlight his fear of abandonment since he LITERALLY snaps if hes left alone too long ausgejvrksbejt i love you glisten youre so real forever.... i have many headcanons for him but this is not the post for that 😭

[kingofpopmj]

Then, There Was You

Chapter 1

July 14, 1988

Michael had been on tour for about a year and it never had much of an effect on him until now. He couldn’t think straight. The hours were ticking by, launching him into a heart racing panic. On one hand he was excited to see her again, but on the other he was nervous. What is she doesn’t enjoy the show? What if he trips? What is his pants split open during a move? What if he forgets the lyrics? What if…

“You okay?” Karen asked, noticing his flustered state while she set up her equipment.

“Yeah. I think so. I’m— I don’t know. Nervous.” He felt like he was in grade school, hoping his crush would notice him wearing her favorite color. Shit. What’s her favorite color?

“Nervous? That’s new.”

“Yeah. It’s a big show.” He tried desperately not to give himself away, but him wiping his sweaty palms down his thighs made him easy to read.

“They are all big shows. Spill.” She looked at him inquisitively.

“We have royalty in attendance tonight.” He spoke as his knee bounced up and down uncontrollably.

“You’ll do great.” She smiled at him through the mirror and continued working on his hair. “You always do.”

“I met them last night actually. They were very kind.”

“I bet.” She knew by now how to tell if Michael needed to vent. After working for him for so many years she learned to listen— be a confidante. He didn’t like to be pestered with questions, he preferred someone to just listen.

“Princess Diana was very sweet.”

“I’ve heard she’s lovely.”

“Yeah.” He forced a cough as he readjusted in his seat. “Princess Y/N is as well. She’s so nice...”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Is that so?” She smirked, raising her eyebrow at his shift from sheepish to pure excitement.

“Yes. She’s really funny too. She’s so easy to be around… you almost forget— I don’t know. When I was with her I felt like we were normal people, you know? There was no pressure. I felt like a real person— like a regular person with her.”

“She sounds incredible.”

“She is! We ran off and got to know each other. Well, more like she dragged me out of the event.” He chuckled at the memory. “She held my hand and I felt so— so happy. It was the best night I’ve had in a while… maybe ever.”

“You ran off together? Wow, that sounds exhilarating.”

“It was. We left the party and she took me up onto the rooftop of Buckingham Palace—”

“Wait, you were on a rooftop?”

“Yes! Me!”

“You’re terrified of heights.”

“I know!”

“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Me either! I mean— goodness. It was incredible. I’m so happy I accepted that invitation. I’m so happy I met her.” He exhaled, shutting his eyes, but the calm was short lived. He jumped out of his seat. “What am I supposed to do? She’s going to be here tonight and I’m— I don’t want to make a fool of myself. What if, what if it meant more to me than it did to her?”

“Michael, I think—”

“What if she was just being nice? What if she just wants to be friends and I’m over here like some pathetic hopeless romantic thinking we could be more? What if she was just pitying me? What if she thinks I’m weird? Everyone else does, what if— what if she agrees with them?” By this point he was starting to hyperventilate.

“Michael, no, you aren’t weird. Woah, okay, you need to breathe. I’m sure she enjoyed your time together. The way you’re lighting up talking about her, there’s no way she didn’t feel it too. She’s going to be here tonight— it’s a sign. You should ask her out! If she’s into you, which I think she is, you can ask— she’s definitely giving you the green light.” Her hands rested on both his shoulders and she guided him back into his seat.

“Ask her on a date? That’s insane. I mean— She’s a princess.”

“She’s a person. A person who likes you.”

“We don’t know if she even likes me!”

“Oh, get real. Michael, stop doubting yourself. She held your hand— personally, I wouldn’t do that unless I was trying to drop a hint.”

“A hint?” Michael tilted his head as if that would help him understand what she was saying.

“Yes, you goon! Physical touch! She’s giving you the hint to go for it— to go for her.”

“I didn’t think of it that way. I mean I guess that could explain why she didn’t pull away when I kissed her—”

“What! Why didn’t you start with that!” She exclaimed, slapping his arm playfully.

“Is that important?”

“It’s the most important! Oh my goodness! Okay, what kind of kiss was it? Was it a peck or was it like a hungry, hands gripping at each other and—”

“Woah! Okay, that’s too much. It’s also private.” He stopped her, chuckling at her excitement.

“Such a gentleman.” Karen chuckled, rolling her eyes playfully. “Tell me this, did she kiss back? Did she match what you felt?”

“I was too scared to actually kiss her. I kissed her cheek technically, the corner of her lips and I felt her smile and she took a deep breath in like she was— like she…”

“Like she was savoring the moment?”

“Yeah.”

“Michael, all signs point to go for the girl.”

“Goodness Karen. I want to. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want her.”

“She left her mothers’ birthday celebration to spend the night with you on a roof. She chose to get to know you instead of taking part in some extravagant event. I know women Michael and that woman definitely wants you.”

“Karen, even if she does… she’s still a princess—”

“You’re making excuses. Above everything she is human. And, I’d assume she’s similar to you in hoping to be treating as such. I’m sure you found that in one other. She’s a person just like you. I think you should go for it.”

“She’s royalty and I’m just— I’m nothing compared to that. What could I do to win her over? There’s no way she’d actually go for me. I’m— she’s a princess and I’m… I’m wacko—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

“They all say it.” He sunk down in his chair and his head hung low. Karen studied him for a moment before leaning down next to him.

“You’re Michael. You’re Michael Jackson. That is your name. They do not define you, do you hear me? They don’t know the real you and they don’t deserve to. The only name they’ve made up for you that’s accurate is The King Of Pop. You’re the best person I know. You make everyone around you better— simply for knowing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! I’m never wrong!” Her voice went up what felt like ten octaves which really got his attention.

“You’re crazy.” He laughed, shaking his head as she did her little happy dance in front of him.

“Crazy right! Crazy on the money!”

“Oh gosh, here we go with the women’s intuition.”

“It’s true and I’m not going to stop pestering you until you go for it because I know this will work. She’ll be so good for you. Would that make you a prince? Oh my god! That’ll be so freaking cool.”

“I don’t know if—”

“Go for it.”

“Karen—”

“Go for it.”

“I don’t think—”

“Go for it.”

“Would you let me finish—”

“Not until you agree to go for it.”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Go for it.”

“But—”

“Go for it.”

“Well—”

“Go for it. You’re overthinking. You can’t let her get away. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t try.”

“You’re right.”

“Go for it!”

“I’m going for it!” He said, laughing as Karen yelled out in excitement. She grabbed his arm, pulling him out of his chair to jump up and down with her in celebration.

Diana was over the moon watching her sister-in-law getting ready for the night. They had spent the better part of the day talking about the concert— more importantly, Michael. As excited as she was playing matchmaker, she felt overwhelmed too because she’d never seen the princess so nervous.

“That one is nice.” Di gave her date for the night a double thumbs up as she looked over the outfit laid out on the bed.

“No, it’s not right.” Y/N shook her head, waving her hands in the air and rushing back into the closet. The room filled with grunts of frustration as she began shoving clothing around. “I don’t have anything to wear!” She emerged from the closet, a mountain of clothes cradled in her arms before falling to the ground.

“Calm down.” Diana moved towards her, sweetly removing the wardrobe that seemed to be weighing her sister down.

“It’s not— nothing is good enough. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to do this. Di, what am I doing?” Her eyes glossy as she gave into all her self doubt.

“No, don’t do that. It’ll come naturally. It is coming naturally, but you’re doubting yourself so much you can’t even see it. I promise he brings something out in you that I’ve never seen before. You’re nervous, which is understandable, but once you’re with him it all vanishes. I promise, he’s not going to care what you’re wearing.”

“I know, but I still want to look nice. I want— I want to look nice for him. I really want him to like me… the way I like him.”

“He does. Y/N, you’re overthinking this.”

“We don’t know if he— I don’t think he does. He could date supermodels— they are so beautiful and tall, I don’t stand a chance. He could have anyone he wants. He’s so kind. He’s funny and oh my goodness he has the best laugh. He’s beautiful in every possible way. I fear I’m going to look like a fool— he’s so far out of my league.”

“You two spent all night together on that dingy old roof. That is all the proof you need. You two spent hours talking and you didn’t get tired of the other. Do you understand how rare that is? Sweetie, you’re special, you’re in a league that he— I think you’re both right there with each other. It’s okay to be afraid of change, but you’ll never know what could be if you don’t put yourself out there. This change could be the best thing to ever happen to you, to us. I saw the way he gazed at you, like you were the most precious thing he’d ever laid his eyes on. I could feel the electricity between the two of you.”

“He was so sweet. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard. Do you— do you really think he feels the same?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“You’re the best.”

“I am. Thank you for admitting that. It’s very big of you. Now, let’s get you ready to see your betrothed.”

“Oh, shush!” Y/N pinched her arm as they got up and started sifting through the clothing.

When they arrived at Wembley Stadium, they were quickly guided backstage and were greeted by the entire crew waiting to welcome them. The noise from the photographers made it impossible to think. They shook hands and met what felt like hundreds of people before they reached the end of the line where Michael stood.

“Oo, tight pants.” Diana whispered in a teasing tone.

“Shut up.”

“Tight leather pants. Really tight.”

“Diana!”

“Oh, relax you’re the one drooling.” Diana joked, looking over and noticing how nervous Michael was. She moved to greet him first, pulling him into a hug.

“A hug and kiss on the cheek is appropriate, it won’t bring too much attention.” She muttered low enough for only him to hear. When she pulled away he looked at her like he was trying to figure out how she knew. “She’s nervous too.”

“I— I didn’t think she would be. I’m glad you’re both here.” He did his best to focus despite all the camera flashes.

“Just breathe.” She gave him a sympathetic smile and touched his shoulder briefly. “She loves your smile. Flash her a big one and she’ll melt.”

“Thank you.” He nodded shyly, bowing his head to try to conceal his blush as she stepped away to watch the interaction from afar.

“Hi. Michael, how are you?” It’s her. She’s standing right in front of him, her presence made his body vibrate with excitement.

He slowly lifted his head, his eyes traveling up from her feet, her legs, her body and landing on her face. Holy… She’s indescribable. Her smile. Her eyes were sparkling somehow. There was so much chaos surrounding them, but it didn’t matter. He was completely, truly, madly… under her spell.

“Hi. You look beautiful.” His arms wrapped around her waist before he could stop himself. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s been too long. What was it… a dreadful eight hours?” She giggled, hugging him back. “You look quite dashing.” She complimented with a sweet tone to her voice that danced against his neck and down his spine.

The camera flashes grew more intense and the yells for their attention brought him back to reality. If only they could stay in this moment a bit longer. He’d give anything to have another experience with her like last night— little did he know she was thinking the exact same thing.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t— I probably shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke stepped away from her. “It wasn’t appropriate.”

“I didn’t mind.” She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Your hugs are lovely.”

“You think?”

“Yes.” That melody of joy erupted from her mouth and he could’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat.

“Your laugh is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re a musician. I’m sure you heard better.”

“I haven’t.”

Her blush quickly overpowered her face and it made butterflies erupt in his stomach. They stood a foot apart, admiring each other’s smiles.

“You look like a biker.” She quipped, sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth. “I’m loving all the studs, chains and buckles.” She reached out, dragging her finger tips across his jacket. “You definitely look bad— in a good way.”

“I— yeah. Thank you. It’s actually quite heavy.” He couldn’t concentrate with her fingers lingering on his chest. All the charming lines he’d practiced were forgotten, it was a miracle he could formed any words at all.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re strong.” She smiled, her hand retreating from his jacket. Oh, maybe he wasn’t sounding as stupid as he thought.

“Yeah, or maybe I’m just pretending to be strong to impress you.” He shrugged, sending a sweet smile her direction.

“You don’t have to pretend anything to impress me.” She felt more confident the longer she was near him. The nerves she felt transforming into flirtatious boldness.

“You know, if we weren’t surrounded by all these people I’d try to hold your hand.”

“You know, if we weren’t surrounded by all these people— actually it doesn’t bother me much I’d hold your hand in front of them.” She tilted her head, daring him to go for it and that surprised him.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you doubting me Mr. Jackson?”

“No, no, of course not.” He answered quickly, his fingers tickling her wrist as he pulled her hand closer to him.

“Good.” She took a step closer to him, her palm caressed his, it was soft and sweet, but nothing compared to her lips when they finally graced his cheek.

“That’ll definitely make the front pages.” Diana teased as she made our way over to the two. “Living dangerously tonight I see.”

“I was just wishing him good luck.” Y/N said nonchalantly, shifting her focus to her sister-in-law.

“Well, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but I’ve been informed it’s time for us to head to our seats.” The noise began to decline around them as the photographers and reporters were ushered out of the room. “Apparently, they pushed the show time back significantly for us.”

“I’m sorry. I— we had no idea our presence would cause such a disturbance—”

“I’d push the start time to next week if it meant I could spend more time with you.” Michael’s voice ignited goosebumps down her arms, his words wrapping around her like a security blanket.

“I wouldn’t object to that.” Her response made him eager to reach out, to be closer to her, but he knew he had to control himself.

“Oh… this is so sweet.” Diana squealed, clapping hands together gently. When both of their heads snapped in her direction, deep red hues covering their faces, she realized the intimate moment she’d intruded on. “Sorry— I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I’m going to… I’m going to go stand over there now.”

“We should probably get going.” Y/N spoke her hesitance evident as she smiled at him again.

“Wait!” Michael nearly shouted. “Wait here. I have something for you.” He ran a few feet away and retrieved a box.

“I’m sure you’d rather unwrap something else.” Diana whispered, chuckling as her sister watched his movements intently.

“Shut up.” She nudged the blonde who was attempting to muffle her laughter with her hands.

They were too busy bickering in hushed voices that they didn’t notice the musician return until he started talking.

“Here. It’s for both of you.” Michael held the box in front of them, a hopeful look on his face as he removed the lid. “It’s just a little something.”

“Oh my goodness. Michael, these are beautiful.” Y/N reached inside to touch the fabric before holding the jacket in the air. “How thoughtful of you. Thank you so much.”

“These are lovely. Thank you Michael.”

“It’s no problem.” He watched proudly as they admired the embroidery on the jacket. Y/N went on about how soft the inside was and he felt his hands begin to tingle at how happy she was. He made her happy— with a simple gesture of gifting her a bad tour jacket. And, it was so worth it.

“Excuse me, Lady Y/N, Lady Diana, we must be going.” A bodyguard walked up to the three and waited patiently for the women to follow him.

“Thank you again for the lovely gift. Good luck out there.” Diana smiled.

“You’re welcome. Thank you. I hope you enjoy the show.” He said, she nodded before stepping away with the bodyguard to give the two a minute of privacy.

“I can’t wait to see you perform.” The young royal gushed, the jacket now hanging on her shoulders.

“I’ll find you in the crowd.” He reached out, gently lifting her hair which had been tucked under the fabric.

“I’ll be the one with hearts in her eyes.” She winked leaning into him and kissing his cheek again. The kiss was longer this time, like she was committing every detail to memory. “Good luck biker boy.” She whispered into his ear before moving away from him, he stared at her as if in a daze. All he could do was stare.

And, he knew he’d never get tired of the view.

When the royal pair arrived at their seats they were met with a warm welcome. As they stood, one hand on the balcony rail and one waving in the air, the stadium erupted into applause.

“Imagine the reaction when they see the two of you together.” Diana muttered through her smile.

“We’re friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other the way you two do. You’re flirty friends at least.”

“I suppose that’s true.” She shrugged, dipping her head to hide the blush on her cheeks.

“Did he, you know, did he ask you?”

“Ask me what?”

“On a date?”

“Oh. No, he didn’t.” Her eyes glazed over sadly as she attempted to ignore how that question made her really feel. “Was he supposed to? Was that the moment?”

“Hm.” Diana shifted in her seat, her mind clearly wondering.

“Oh my. That’s a bad sign isn’t it? W— What if I scared him off?”

“Calm down. He’s probably just focused on performing before his shows. Maybe he’ll ask after. He’d be crazy not to make a move.”

“He’s so handsome. I wasn’t even thinking. I— I kissed him on the cheek. Twice!” She gushed, holding two fingers in the air.

“I know. I thought I was going to have to pull you off of him.”

“I couldn’t help it. He smiles at me and I— oh, Diana…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I really care for him.” She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking her head gently. “He’s like no one I’ve ever met before. He’s special.”

“Breathe.” Diana reached over, taking her sister’s hand in hers. “Don’t let your feelings scare you. It’s a beautiful thing. It’ll work out. I just know it.”

Before Y/N had the chance to respond the lights shut off dramatically and the stadium erupted. The ground was shaking as the anticipation built by the second.

“Hello, London!” The audience cheered loudly as he spoke. “And, welcome to our royal guests!”

“How you doin’?” The ground rumbled in response. Thousands of people gathered in one place to enjoy the music. The energy was electric and there was this feeling of happiness in the air.

After the last song, Lady Y/N and Lady Diana were brought backstage. Diana made herself busy, getting to know the other musicians and trying to learn how to play the instruments. Y/N didn’t waste time, she was immediately escorted to Michael’s dressing room.

“That was incredible! You were amazing!” Y/N gushed, she was looking at him like he’d put all the stars in the sky and Karen certainly noticed.

“Go for it.” Karen hummed softly only for Michael to hear. He tensed up, but she spoke again before he could respond. “Oh! I gotta go— do that thing.” She threw her makeup brushes on the table and practically ran out the door.

It was just them.

And, Michael was freaking out.

“Excuse her. She’s crazy.”

“I apologize if I’ve interrupted your after show ritual. I can come back—”

“No!” His voice came out urgent, desperate even. They both stared at each other, unsure of what the next move should be. “Stay…”

“I really loved the show. Well, we both did.”

“Thank you. I think— I think it’s the best show I’ve ever had.” He fiddled with the buckles on his arm as he took a step towards her.

“Well, I’m honored to have witnessed it.” She smiled, moving closer to him, matching his eagerness to be near one another.

“Lady Y/N, knowing you were in the crowd, it brought something out in me I’ve never felt before.”

“You can call me Y/N.” She whispered.

“You’re the only thing that’s been on my mind. I can’t… and I don’t want to change that.”

“You’ve left quite the impression on me as well.”

“How— Can I spend more time with you?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know the proper protocol—”

“Let’s just forget about protocol.”

“So, could I— may I say something?”

“Of course.”

“I’d really like to take you on a date.”

“Michael—”

“I know it’s crazy. I know that you probably wouldn’t want to be seen with me.” Her face twisted as he spoke, but he didn’t notice because he was staring at the ground. “I just… I feel that you’re really special, you made me feel… happy. And, I really wanted the opportunity to know you better. You’re incredible. You’re like no one I’ve ever met before, but I know that this, it’s probably forbidden. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“Michael, I’d love to.” She smiled, replaying his words in her head, remembering she said something very similar just a few hours ago.

“Really?”

“You’ve got a hold on me that I can’t even put into words.” She reached out, caressing his cheek. “I don’t care about protocol or rules, but I do care about you.”

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Do you have any advice for photography, especially when it comes to animals? I just got a camera and I was wondering if you had any tips because I love the photographs of animals you take :)

Do the work to learn how to swap your settings around for the right exposure / f-stop / shutter speed, and practice until you can figure out it out on the fly. I will admit I’m still not good at this, and shoot mostly based on pre-set settings and vibes - but I’m getting more fluent and the times I’ve figured out what changes I needed to make quickly the in moment, it’s really improved the photos I get. I wish I had a good resource to link, but look up explainers for the “exposure triangle” to start you off.

It’s important to understand what your camera / the lenses you use can and can’t do. I like to shoot telephoto for super close-up shots, but I don’t have ten thousand dollars for a telephoto that does well in low light, so I’ve had to learn to predict when I’m going to need to swap it out for a shorter lens that can handle darker light conditions (looking at you, indoor reptile habitats). Most newer smartphones are currently better for macro photography than any lens I currently have, and easier to use for it. You can ask questions of people at camera stores, or try Reddit for super detailed discussions of specs and settings. I am incredibly lucky that I have two close friends who do hardcore hobbyist/professional level photography and let me pester them regularly with questions as I figure this stuff out.

Learn the animals, too. I get good photos without a lot of technical skill because I can predict behavior and set up for the shots that I want. So the more you know about the animals you’re photographing and how they use the space they’re in, the better chance you have of getting something you’re happy with.

Also like… just practice. A lot. Thank goodness for digital cameras and memory cards. On a normal zoo trip, I will shoot upwards of 4000 photos. I keep maybe 500 of them, unless I’ve gotten astoundingly lucky. If I’m shooting animals being chill, I get the pics I think I want and then play around with my settings and take the exact same photos again, so I can compare and learn what works best. Some things, like focusing through fencing or physically tracking flying birds across the sky, just take repetition to get fluent with.

Have fun with the new camera!!

[animeyanderelover]

I was a fool for thinking that I would be able to get my requests done faster just because my schedule was less packed in comparison to last semester. There's so much I have to do at home.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, manipulation

Tags: @maggiequinn59

Valentine's Day Special: Adoration Prompt

"Hello? Earth on (y/n). If your thoughts keep on drifting away, you're going to fail your exam."

The light flick of a pencil against your forehead brought you back to reality. Your mind, disoriented for a split second, landed on the notes scattered across the table. Then your gaze met Light's who was sitting next to you, his head resting in his hand as he too was looking at you.

"Sorry," you muttered under your breath, grabbing your pen once more. The half-empty page of your block started to fill up as you copied his notes, though you couldn't stop your mind from drifting away ever so slowly whilst your hand continued scribbling formulas down.

His presence made you nervous. More than you wanted him to notice. Light was by no means a stranger to you. Both of you had known each other since middle school and were even attending the same college now. But this was new. Sitting here with him late at night in his room was different. Everything was different. And honestly, you were scared. Scared of the past repeating itself.

You hadn't even been aware of the way you had tightened the grip around the pen, your knuckles flexing under your skin. Not until his hand suddenly covered yours. It was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the colder skin of yours. It was that touch that startled you and made you pause your movements.

"You're thinking about them again, don't you?"

It was a blessing and a curse at the same time to have someone who was as observant as Light. Then again, your thoughts must have been written all over your face. Again.

You couldn't say any words. The only sound that you managed to make and that converted your emotions somewhat accurately was a heavy sigh that had your shoulders deflating. You wondered if you were a bad girlfriend for thinking about someone else even when you were alone with Light.

"Hey, it's alright. I know that it hasn't been easy for you the last year."

He slowly put your hand down before he collected all the notes, putting them in a neat pile next to him. Brown eyes focused on you again after, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

"Let's stop studying for tonight. We've covered a lot."

"Okay... What are we going to do instead?"

"I don't know. What do you want to do right now?"

"Me?" Your heart was beating unnaturally loud within your ears in that moment. The silence of the room aside from your voices only enhanced that sound. It felt intimate which filled you with a surge of nervousness, hope and slight fear. There were lots of things that you could do with him but a wary part of your thoughts warned you to not follow those ideas. Unless you wanted to put your heart at risk again.

"We can just sit here if that makes you comfortable."

You had hesitated for too long. Now Light had been the one who had made a suggestion. Were you giving off a weird impression right now by staying so quiet?

"Wouldn't that be way too awkward?"

"What would make you comfortable the-" "I don't know!"

Now, that had been injustified. Cutting him off before he could even finish his question. You pursed your lips, feeling the hot shame for having acted so rude to Light just now. What had he done to deserve your frustration after all? A brief silence filled the space between the two of you, one that prevented your body from moving. Your heart had jumped into your throat, a bitter taste in the back of your mouth as you could only wait for his next words.

They weren't what you had expected.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pestered you so much."

Oh god. You felt tears stinging your eyes when Light apologised suddenly. Your elbows landed on the desk, your hands pressing against your eyes. It would be silly to start crying right now and so you tried to prevent your emotions from spilling out.

"Why are you the one apologising? I'm the one who has been acting like an asshole."

"That's not true. You've just gone through a lot, (y/n)."

His touch was initially delicate as if gauging if you were alright with the physical contact. When you didn't give any verbal or physical sign that you were uncomfortable, both of his hands wrapped around your form and pulled you against his chest. Just in time as the first hot tears slipped out of your eyes and silent sobs escaped your mouth.

"I'm so sorry! I'm really sorry! I-"

Your voice got lost, caving under the force of your sobs. The shame was a lot yet you leaned into Light's embrace. If he was offering it to you that meant that he wasn't angry after all. Right?

"It's fine. I'm not mad with you."

Those worda partially eased your worries. Still, the nausea gathered somewhere in the pit of your stomach was still there. Your tearfilled gaze looked up at him. You imagined that you must have looked so pathetic in that moment, begging and needy.

With your vision blurry you couldn't see the subtle twitch of the corner of his mouth, the brief flash of a victorious grin that was gone in less than the blink of an eye.

"I'm not going to leave you. Never. Your ex was a fool. I'm not. I know that you're special."

A gleam lit up in your eyes. Validation and hope came to life as his honeyed words registered within your mind. Your hold on him tightened subtly, your gaze still holding traces of old wariness.

"You promise?"

"Of course," he whispered softly, one of his hands resting on your cheeks to wipe the salty tears away that rolled down your face.

“An angel sent from the heavens descending upon earth.. only I can adore you as you deserve to be adored.”

You were oblivious to the way his face twisted into a gleeful grin as he pulled you closer to his body, obstructing your gaze on purpose. You didn’t have to know about the fate that had truly befallen your ex. Not yet at least. You weren’t quite ready.

[kvrokasaa]

Please, Don't Leave Me

Karasu x reader

cw: Gn!pronouns but afab!reader, reader has female genitalia, implied cunnilingus, and sex, suggestive themes at the end, angst-ish, fluff, kinda forced plot ngl, Karasu's accent might be off, not proofread, Otoya being respectful to a woman 😨, Isagi and Bachira are mentioned once.

2.5k words

Today felt off. Well, more specifically, the past week has felt off. You don’t know if you’re the only one feeling this way. But it’s like the shift in your relationship has turned.

Every time you try and get attention from your boyfriend, he waves you off. Literally. He waves his hand, acting as if you’re a fly pestering him.

You don’t know what started this behavior. Just two weeks ago you both were fine. Visiting your family and having a nice time. You know it wasn’t anything your family said, they don’t pry into your relationships. But you can’t seem to figure it out for the life of you.

Just last night when you came over to his place, you tried to ask if he wanted to watch a movie with you. It was movie night, every week you both dedicate a night to watching movies, whatever happens, happens. But Karasu simply shrugged and said, “ ’s late and I have early practice tomorrow.”

Karasu never shrugs off movie night.

As to get some clarification for why this is happening, you decide to show up at his practice. And it wasn’t early morning, which made you even more confused.

So much questions and so little answers.

As you make your way to the field, they stopped playing for minute to catch their breaths and drink some water, you pass by a few of his teammates. They all give you confused glances.

You’ve never once showed up to his practices. Only to his games. It’s not because you didn’t want to, he just never asked and you didn’t want to intrude.

You carry a little bag in your hand. He forgot his lunch and, being a good s/o, you decided to bring it with you.

“Hey baby,” the words come out as you rest your head on his back. “You forgot your lunch, here.”

You hand him the bag. It’s already past noon, but you’re guessing he didn’t have anything to eat unless his friends offered some of their food.

He only grunted in response and took the bag from your hand, rather forcefully too. “Thanks.” His response was curt.

He made his way to the benches and set the bag down.

“Why have you been ignoring me,” you’re not sure ignoring was the right word, but it was among the similarities of the traits he’s been showing you this past week. “I’m not ignoring ya.” His voice was laced with malice. You don’t know why, but your body reacted before your brain as it flinched a little.

His words, even the mean ones, never seemed to startle you. But after the agonizing thoughts every night, which caused less and less sleep, you couldn’t think straight. Which resulted in your body moving before you could think to stop it.

If he was concerned or remorseful about his attitude, he didn’t show it. His face was hardened and still, as if it was sculpted.

“It doesn’t feel like that. You’ve been putting me off all week. Not even a good morning text. What’s…” Your voice died off as you saw him turn around and glare at you. He’s acting like you broke one of his million dollar vases, which he does own unironically.

“Is that what ya want? A ‘good morning’ text, a ‘how was your day?’ text? I’m working my ass off all day to provide for me and you and yer complaining that I don’t show enough love? Just be grateful for once in our fucking relationship.”

You wanted to bite back, to tell him that you work too. Sure your job doesn’t pay as well as his does, but he also has the inheritance from his family to back him up. You don’t. You get up every morning and work, you don’t complain either. Sure, what you’re doing now can be classified as complaining, but you rarely ever open your mouth to complain. And you are grateful, you don’t know how many times you’ve been grateful in your relationship with him. It’s not a chore for you, but he’s acting like you’ve never said, ‘thank you,’ to him once.

But you bite your tongue when he opens his mouth again. “I don’t think ya understand, Y/n. I play soccer for me; this is the only chance I get to be away from you. But now you show up and have to ruin everything. Get it through yer thick skull, I don’t want you around unless it’s necessary.”

Your eyes widen at his last sentence. Did he think you were a chore to be around? Did he only want you around when he felt it was convenient? Did he ever think of you as his s/o?

You aren’t one to cry in public places, sometimes you even hold back your tears in your own bedroom. You don’t like the feeling of tears sliding down your cheeks. You hate the feeling of pain and failure. You’ve never even cried in front of your own boyfriend and you have been together for six months now.

But you can’t stop the tear from falling down your cheek and onto the grassy field. You manage to stop the next one, and the one after that. You sniffle and nod your head. You have nothing left to say to him, if he wants space, then you’ll give him space. This is just him setting his boundaries, right?

Right.

“Okay.” You don’t know how, but you manage to hold your head up and keep your tears at bay, along with your voice neutral. “If you really feel that way, then I’ll leave.”

There were many implications behind your words. You could mean the relationship or just the field where you stand in now. You honestly don’t know which one of them you meant. But you let your legs take you away from his one happy place.

He chose his career over you, and you’re fine with that. But you being fine with that doesn’t mean you will settle into this little routine.

You’ll dip your feet into the water, see how much of an impact his words leave in your relationship. If you don’t like the ripples in the water, then you’ll just leave.

He hears scoffs and snorts from his team as he snaps back to reality. “What the fuck dude? All they did was ask you a simple question.” Isagi chimes in. “Yeah man. You did not need to blow up that like.”

Otoya looks over at Isagi and nods his head, “I’m going with Isagi on this one.”

Karasu scoffs. “Shut it, fuckboy. You-” “Don’t tell me what to do moron. You made them fucking cry.”

He made you cry? You’ve never cried before, at least not in front of him. Was he so lost in thought that he didn’t even see your tears? Did his words hurt you that much?

“You gotta fix this before it’s too late~.” Bachira voiced Karasu's thoughts.

...

Your house seems bare and lonely without the smile on your face, or the warm touches from him. Your plants seem to reflect your emotions, droopy and sad.

You make your way to your bedroom, ready to sulk in bed for the rest of the day. Thanks to it being a weekend, you have the day off. Which means you could sulk for as long as you want.

You pull the weighted blanket onto your body and sigh contentedly at the comfort. This is the only comfort you need right now, a stupid rom-com, some junk food, and a good amount of weight.

Your phone goes off before you can delve into the movie too much. You sigh, already knowing who it’s from. You picked it up and just as you guessed, Karasu.

He had a written a whole paragraph about how sorry he is and that he would be glad to make it up to you. You opted to just text him back with:

It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean it haha, it’s late so I’ll talk in the morning. Goodnight!

You already know that he’s going to think something’s up. Let him, he deserves the cold shoulder, an insidious voice sang in the back of your mind. As much as you want to brush the voice away, you know that it’s true. He does deserve the cold shoulder. You’ve been nothing but good to him and he treats you like this?

You let your thoughts run wild and finally determine that you'll respect his words for a bit. If he wants you to leave him alone, you'll leave him alone. You won't go to his practices and games or make him his lunches anymore.

A few hours passed by as you dwelled in your bed. You should probably text some of your friends and ask for a night out. But honestly, you just wanted to stay in and eat all the junk you can.

You've watched at least three rom-com movies; some made you laugh and some made you cry. You want to say that you mainly cringed, but what you mainly did was wish Karasu could act like some of the male leads.

Yeah, he remembers your favorite food and gets you as many things as you want. But you wish he would put away his pride and apologize.

Before you knew it, your eyes drifted off while your mind rambled about Karasu.

...

The smell of pancakes and eggs woke you from your slumber. You yawned and stretched your muscles as you made your way out of bed. You weren't too shocked to see Karasu in your kitchen with the 'kiss the cook' apron you gifted him as a joke on his birthday.

When you two had an argument, he would always cook you food, buy you things, and spend the entire day with you. But those things are meaningless after the argument you had the other day.

But you still let him try.

He smiles when he sees your sleepy face. But his smile turned into a pout when he saw your runny mascara and puffy/red eyes. He did that. He made you cry. Karasu walks up to you and brings you into his arms.

"I'm sorry pretty baby," he kissed your forehead. "I don't deserve you."

You snort at that; there's something you both can agree on. He smiles when he hears your snort. Step one: make you laugh: check.

You both sit at the table and eat the delicious food he made. Contrary to popular opinion, Karasu is actually a good cook. The food was gone in minutes.

"I have a game tomorrow," he says as he chews the last bite on his plate. "I can reserve a front-row seat for you, like always."

You give him a kind smile; you want to say no but his puppy eyes are too tempting. "Okay." Your response was curt, you didn't mean anything by it. But Karasu took it as you giving the same attitude he gave you yesterday. He pouted and grabbed your hand, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles. "I wanna hear ya cheering f'me, okay?" You nodded your head and he smiled at that, bringing your hand up and kissing it. "That's my pretty baby."

You two spent the whole day talking and shopping. You got the things you needed and wanted, and even more things that Karasu thought would look good on you.

The gifts made you smile, but they held most of the weight behind your fake smile. You didn't want to speak out that you didn't need these meaningless things, you just wanted him to hug you and tell you that he loves you. You know that you just have to speak up about these things, but you don't want to start another argument.

Your tongue was bit through the entire day and night with him.

...

You woke up a bit later than intended, but the sleep was welcomed and needed. You felt like the pain and memories of the past few days have been erased.

You felt like you were forgetting something. You yawned and turned on your phone, then it hit you.

Karasu's soccer game. It's 1:30 in the afternoon, you're sure the game is already halfway through. And it's a thirty-minute drive to the stadium. Which means when you get there, it'll be almost over. So, there's no point in going. So you opted to just grab something to eat and turn on Netflix. Yeah, you feel bad, but honestly, Karasu deserves this. Maybe he'll remember not to catch an attitude with you for no reason.

Karasu on the other hand, is distraught. He doesn't remember how many times he's looked over at the stands.

He thought that you were over the other day. He apologized and made it up to you. He took you shopping and to your favorite restaurant.

His mind was elsewhere and he couldn't get into the flow of the game. His kicks weren't on point and his precision was flawed. The coach called him in and swapped for another player.

"Get your shit together or leave."

Karasu took the latter; he needs to see you.

The drive was long originally, but his thoughts made it longer. Every second he wasn't with you, he felt that it was another second you could up and leave his life.

He finally got there and quickly unlocked your door with the spare key. No boxes, nothing packed, nothing is gone. Air came back into his lungs, and he could finally breathe again.

He rushed to your room, his pout getting deeper as he saw you on your bed watching Netflix.

Your eyes widened as he rushed into your room. You swear this man will give you cardiac arrest one of these days. "What..What are you doing here?" Your eyes followed him as he stalked to your side of the bed where you were lying. "Your game, it hasn't even ended yet." He grabbed your hands before he answered, bringing them up to his cheeks.

"Baby, I'm sorry for being a dickhead, but doncha think it's rude to not come when I asked ya to?" He almost whined out. You pouted as you rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs, "I'm sorry," you cooed out. "My handsome boy, I didn't mean to."

He shook his head, "No, don't apologize baby. I shouldn't have yelled at ya. Forgive me, yeah? Just please, don't leave me." He pouted, "I don't think I can go any longer without yer kisses and hugs." He doesn't remember when he got so romantic and cheesy. He used to laugh at people who were obsessed with their s/o and used to call them mediocre. But now here he is, so fucking obsessed with you. He feels like he can't breathe when you don't give him your love. He lives off it.

"I love ya so much, my pretty baby." He brought one of your hands to his lips, peppering kisses all of it as he looked into your eyes. "Ya don't gotta say it back, jus want ya to know."

And you did know, especially through his actions. The way he kisses you, the way he dotes on you, and the way he went down on you for hours. No amount of whines and pleads for him to stop, no amount of " 's too much," were enough to stop him. His tongue and his groans against you made you feel both pain and pleasure. Karasu loves you so much and proved that while he fucked you all night.

a/n: His accent, his smile, him <3333 Karasu is just ahbsdjsdhsdje. I'm acting up for this man

[questionableratatouille00]

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The reason? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Reader wears a dress, cursing, mentions and eating of food, let me know if more needs to be added.

[Series Masterlist] <- Haven’t seen pt. 1?

𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒈𝒖𝒏

Day Two

"You look..fine." You mumble, refusing to say what you really meant: hot.

He nods awkwardly, before tilting his head towards the elevator. You walk with him to the elevator, and you try and study his expressions as you wait to get to the first floor.

He looked lost in thought. Shit. That was never good. If he wasn't talking, whether that meant exchanging insults with you and Sam or marveling at modern technology with Steve, he was lost in his head.

You’d noticed that since he’d moved to the Compound was that he was getting better. Better, in the sense that he wasn't staying holed up in his assigned bedroom pretending that the world didn't exist. Better in the sense that he was talking to people now. Better in the sense that he wasn't waking up violent or screaming in the middle of the night.

Yeah, sure, he's a petty asshole who's extremely good at pissing you off, but even semi-joking insults are better than eerie silence and pure fear of the outside world.

When he'd arrived at the Compound, he'd avoided everyone, even Steve. He didn't speak, barely acknowledged people unless he had to. He didn't eat. He could barely sleep. It was like he was a ghost. The first time Peter came over while Bucky was around, Bucky seemed to have shut down a little.

Peter was a good kid. He stayed over in his room during weekends, or even occasionally during weekdays in the summer. He didn't ask intrusive questions, and he really did try his best to make Bucky feel welcome. But it really just terrified Bucky.

After a few months of court-mandated therapy, which slowly evolved from twice a week to once every two months throughout the span of a year, he seemed to recover. He slowly learned to get out of those post-HYDRA habits he'd picked up. He'd eat with the rest of the team. He'd join in on weekly movie nights. He'd even help Wanda when she cooked for the monthly 'nice-family-dinner' days. She always loved making the food for those.

He started watching baking shows with Vision. He'd hang out with Natasha. He pestered Steve in a way only a best friend ever could. He made jokes. The first time you ever heard the former brainwashed assassin make a joke will be forever ingrained into your mind. It had been some stupid joke about Steve's old costume, and it had shocked everyone in the room. Except for Steve.

He only went silent like this on particularly bad days. Nobody ever said anything, because they knew that would only make it worse, but it was obvious whenever something rough went down. 'Bad days' meant days that followed nightmare-filled nights, or days that involved flashbacks or recovering from flashbacks, or days that were ruined by something triggering him.

"You good, there?" You decide to speak up, just as the elevator door opens.

He nodded quickly, beginning to walk to the truck. He hops into the driver's seat, and you don't fight him on it.

"We're a bit late." You note, glancing at the time. 6:13pm. Technically, it started at 6:00pm and ended at 10:45pm.

"Holy shit." You say aloud, looking through Bucky's window at the beautiful decorations. There were string lights strung from light posts, and hay bales for some reason, and other cute things. There was a little stage set up, with a small band playing vintage songs. There were little stands set up where you could buy food or random 1940's themed shit.

"You ready?" You looked to Bucky, before checking in the mirror to make sure the red lipstick you'd applied hadn't smudged.

He nodded, parking the truck against the sidewalk. He waited for you to walk around the front of the vehicle to join him.

"I'll grab us some dinner. You up for this? We can always go back--"

"I'm fine." He said, and at first you thought that he was getting annoyed at you, before a quick glance to his face assured you that he was just trying to convince himself of this. "I'm fine." He repeated.

The air was warm, and the yellow light of the string lights combined with the street lights made Bucky look..really nice.

"Ooh! That place looks good. C'mon!" You grabbed his hand, pulling him forward.

You pulled him to the food stand, excitedly looking around the little square. People from well into their nineties to kids who couldn't be older than five were all dressed up. You and Bucky blended in incredibly well.

"What do you think you're gonna get?" You asked Bucky, intending to pay.

"Not sure. Might just get a burger and fries."

"That sounds good. I'm not sure what I want yet. Everything looks amazing."

When the family in front of you got their food and left, you quickly made your decision, and Bucky made his. Just as you were about to put your card into the card swipe machine, Bucky beat you to it. When you opened your mouth to argue, Bucky gave you a sharp glare, silently telling you to shut it.

“I was going to—“ You begin, but he cuts you off quickly. “I got it.” He paid quickly for the meal, before leading you off to a table. There were a bunch of circle tables set up in a large rectangle. In the center, people danced in small circles or in sets of twos.

Setting the plastic baskets on the table, Bucky pulled out a chair for you. “What a gentleman.” You tease, and he just rolls his eyes.

The band played covers of old songs, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky recognizes any of them.

Once the both of you wolfed down the delicious food, you looked around. The band was loud, so you had to talk at a slightly louder volume than normal.

There were lots of couples, ranging from elderly couples slowly swaying together, to newlyweds quickly moving and bouncing to the upbeat music.

You noticed Stacy, the long-haired brunette who worked at the Brandon Center. She was in her own baby blue 40’s dress, which paired well with her hair and bright green eyes.

She was standing at a table in front of her Aunt Brenda, and Barbara from the hotel.

Her grandma and her great aunt live up here, you remember. She’d said so at the store.

Barbara and Brenda were also dressed up, smiling and laughing at something Stacy said. Stacy was standing, but Barbara and Brenda were sitting together.

You looked to Bucky who was zoning out. “You okay?” You asked, and he snapped his gaze up to meet yours.

“Fine.” He assured. "Dance with me."

"What?" You look at him, bewildered.

"Dance with me." He repeats, standing up before pulling you out of your chair by your hands.

"Why are you--" You don’t get to finish as he pulls you to the makeshift dance floor, before pulling you close to him.

"Shut up and dance with me."

"Y'know, that's a song." You felt it was important to note this.

"Weird." He states, before he glances past you, his eyes narrowing.

"If looks could kill." You commented, and he focused back on you. "Who're you looking at?"

"The douchebag who's been staring at you for the past eight minutes." When you turned your head to look back, Bucky stepped to the side, forcing you to swing your body to avoid being crashed into.

"You've been watching him?" You thought it was weird that the guy who hated your guts seemingly wanted to keep you safe.

"Shut up." He glared at you, before he continued to sway with you to the rhythm of the song.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance."

"I said that I didn't. Not that I couldn't." He muttered, before spinning you.

You instantly recognized the opening notes of 'It's Been a Long, Long Time', and you look to Bucky, who also seemed to recognize it.

You laugh as the two of you continue to sway to the music together, before the song ends. Bucky keeps his hands on your hips, your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. You’re not that bad.” You grin goofily.

“You’re not so bad either.” Bucky looked at you, a small grin on his face.

“Friends?”

“Something like that. You’re a punk.”

“And you’re a dick.” You shot back.

It was impossible to miss how all of the couples close to you glance at Bucky's hand, clearly metal against your red dress.

"They're all staring at me like I'm some kind of monster." He mutters darkly, beginning to pull away.

You pull him closer. "Who gives a shit.”

“I do. Tony does. The Avenger’s PR team does.” He retorted.

“Okay, smart ass.” You rolled your eyes, before glancing around. One old guy was staring at Bucky, as were the surrounding groups of people. “We can go, if you want. My feet kinda hurt.” You lied, hoping that if you gave a reason to go, he’d feel better about agreeing. When he gave you a simple nod, you smiled. You lead him to the truck, taking him by the hand. Once you reached it, you stepped down off the curb, opening the passenger door.

“That was..fun. For you, right? Like, you’re doing okay?” You asked after a few minutes. Everybody in the tower knew about Bucky’s nightmares and night terrors. Whether it was from hearing him scream late in the night or in the earliest hours of the morning, or if it was from being the one to wake him up from them a few times. It was just something that nobody talked about.

“It was alright.” He murmured. This was a win.

As he drove the two of you back to the hotel, you smiled to yourself.

Shorter chapter this time. Not feeling so great post-elections. Also, my taglist won’t link unless I format it like this. For the good of all, subscribe to/follow the HtH Masterlist post and I’ll reblog with a link to the newest chapter each time. (Hopefully you’ll get a notification?)

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @kandis-mom @laughterafter @cjand10 @emmsybucky

@mrsnotfeelingsogood

@matchat3a @identity2212 @ilovemcuff @unaxv

@mysticalfuncollectorus @highwaytomichelle @lilbloggs @ordelixx @skiemi-blog

@allieb913 @winterslove1917 @chimchoom

@moonlight-readings

graphics by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

[taeyegu]

confession is not flashy — 002. just for a month

previous // next

word count — 909

warning(s) — none... except a painfully whipped chan <3

lunch time at the hospital was always busy. today's lunch crew consists of the interns along with dr. moon from neuro and dr. hong from gs.

dr. moon took a small glance over at y/n who was currently pacing back and forth talking to someone on the phone. he then turned his attention to chan, "dr. jeon told me you actually met up with him for shadowing today--how was that?"

"it was fine…" chan sighed, "but y/n was with dr. kim today. i should have just followed them."

"you know dr. kim thinks you're really fond of pediatrics with how often you 'try' to shadow him." dr hong chuckled.

"he's only doing it so he can keep an eye on his girl." vernon said through a mouthful of rice. "we clowned him earlier today about it and i guess it was enough for him to finally follow his schedule with dr. jeon."

"oh? my girl?" dr. moon smirked, "when did this couple become a thing?"

"w-we're not a couple yet… unless y/n has said something about me…?" chan said in a hopeful tone. the whole table softly laughed at the youngest's antics surrounding his very obvious feelings. "a-anyways! sure, so what if i like y/n? it's not like it's that obvious!"

"it is very obvious." vernon deadpanned. seungkwan nodded along,

"you're always buying y/n lunch and never us…" seungkwan listed.

"that one time when you tried to arm wrestle dr. choi after y/n mentioned how strong he was and then dr. choi almost dislocated your shoulder…" dr. hong added.

"i also remember during the previous hospital dinner party, dr. kim and y/n were talking about their interest in eating chicken breast for protein and then you proceeded to eat an obscene amount of chicken that night and threw up…"

"okay!" the youngest exclaimed, "i admit, i am a little obvious…"

"i think all of the departments know about your little crush." dr. moon comforted chan, "we're all supporting you so don't worry!"

after finishing the phone call, y/n walks back to the lunch table and sits down with a sigh, "sorry that took so long everyone, did i miss anything?"

"is something the matter y/n?" seungkwan asked, "you look really tired after that phone call."

"it was just my mom again--she won't stop bothering me about the wedding!" y/n rubbed her fingers against her temples, feeling an oncoming headache at the thought of thinking back to the conversation.

"what happened?" dr. hong asked, "if you don't mind telling us."

"yeah it's not a big deal. seungkwan, vernon, and chan already know a little." y/n sighed once again, "my cousin is getting married and her wedding is like a month away. my mom has been pestering me nonstop to bring a date." y/n crossed her arms across her chest to display her annoyance, "i know she's worried about me with how busy school and rotations at the hospital have been, but i feel like a relationship right now wouldn't be the best for me."

"why does your mom want you to have a date so bad?" dr. moon questioned.

"i know she's just worried about me," y/n said, "but i also think it's because most, if not all of my cousins are in committed relationships right now. my mom thinks that i'm too focused on my career. she wants me to find a significant other before it's too late."

"that sucks y/n," dr. hong gave her a small pat on the back, "i'm sorry you have to deal with that right now."

"what does y/n have to deal with right now?" dr. kwon interjected as he placed his lunch tray down at the table.

"y/n has a family wedding to attend and her mom keeps pressuring her to bring a date." seungkwan summarizes to dr. kwon.

"why can't y/n just bring a fake date?" dr. kwon states like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"a fake date? what do you mean a fake date?" y/n perks up.

"it's exactly like it sounds." dr. kwon says, "find someone to be your fake date for the night so that you can get your mom to stop pressuring you--there's a bunch of websites where you can just pay someone to do this for you."

"on this salary… i don't think i can afford that option." y/n says dejectedly.

"or you can just ask one of your friends to be your fake date for free!" dr. moon exclaims.

"i've never really thought of that… that's actually a really good idea dr. kwon." y/n turns to look at her three best guy friends, "seungkwan? vernon? would you guys be able to?"

"sorry y/n, seungkwan and i bought concert tickets for aespa that night… we've been planning it for awhile." vernon says.

"o-oh y/n i can be your fake date--if there's no one else!" chan stutters.

"that's perfect y/n!" seungkwan exclaims, "you and chan would be great together!"

"would you really chan? i'd owe you my life!" y/n beams at him.

"haha, no worries y/n!" chan smiles, "i'm down to be your fake boyfriend for the wedding…"

"then it's settled!" dr. moon laughs, "congrats to the new couple at the hospital! love is definitely in the air!"

"very funny dr. moon!" y/n chuckles, "it's just for a month!"

[monayen]

I love the madness going on here but it feels like we’re on a slippery slope with this milk stuff 💀

BUT hear me out… this lends itself so well to a cow person reader. the anime kind with cow print bikini, a headband with small horns and a bell around the neck. iykwim 👀

(pologies’ if you don’t like lactation kink in this saga… mama has to feed those hungry ratmen somehow !! to make it clear, no babies are involved in my writing unless it’s a parent/babysitting/au situation. when i’m talking about the ratmen breastfeeding, it’s just magically something the reader can do and the ratmen love it. alrighty !?)

I think the dynamics of a cow person reader and other characters is something I’d like to think about more… But we’ve been talking about the ratmen so I will focus on them here ^0^

The ratman are terrified when they first lay their eyes on you. You basically dwarf them, since a cow person would definitely be bigger in height and not just in *cough* certain areas… so they jump to the conclusion that you’ll try kill them like everyone else

After they learn you won’t kill them, they stare. If you got that classic anime cow person look (bikini and all), they practically wouldn’t be able to wrap their heads around why someone would walk around showing so much skin… let alone a bell around their neck that jingles with every movement

Not that they complain about the outfit… it *flatters* you very well. It can just be awkward at how many times you have to remind them that your eyes are up here! Robert, Ratman 4, and Ratman 5 are basically shameless… but at least Micheal and Ratman 3 will have the decency to do a nervous dart around the room before they lock eyes onto your barely covered chest

They ask a lot of questions. Will your horns grow longer? How often do you shine your pretty bell? Are you cold in that outfit? ‘Cus your nipples are hard!

You definitely make the mistake of revealing too much of your… capabilities. What do you mean you can make your own drink? Is it like beer? Or more a soda? Whatever it is, they definitely are eager to try some

They’ll pester you about it every single day, following you around and asking when can they try some of your drink. It’s enough that you don’t get a lone chance to actually let go of the milk inside you, discomfort quickly settling in

You finally cave in when the pain of the buildup becomes too much, standing over the ratman as you untie the knot of your bikini top, dropping it to the floor as you present your aching chest

They absolutely waste no time scampering to get a taste, their heads pushing together to lick and suck up whatever leaks out of you

Robert picks up that squeezing helps get more milk out, gesturing for Ratman 4 to help knead the soft skin on your chest. Ratman 3 catches the strays, licking up the small trails of milk that manage to drip down onto your navel, while Micheal and 5 take turns fighting over a nipple… teeth are involved and you aren’t the only one that gets bit!

Trust that they’ll never let you get backed up again now that you’re their favorite meal<3

[ohmtoff]

Shots, shots, shots (Part 1)

Nick Sturniolo x Masc!OC

Summary: Nick is most definitely not having fun at a frat party Madi dragged him to, but this boy who’s staring at him hungrily may help him to have a good time (or: a very cliche and very self-indulgent fic of Nick getting it on with a frat bro)

WC: 4.8k

Contains: college!AU, frat bro!oc, drinking games, making out

Disclaimer: no smut yet, smut is in the next part. not an american, idk anything ab frat culture and the american college system in general, so there’s gna be some inaccuracies. this is just based on the frat fics ive read and my own college experiences.

a/n: was supposed to be a one-shot but i suddenly wrote 10k words💀 although i know nothing ab frat culture, how my american friends describe it is basically like any faculty organization in an indonesian uni lmao so hope my knowledge of how those orgs work help this a slight bit. anyways hope you enjoyyy <333

——————————————————————————-

Nick is most definitely not having fun.

He frowns as he feels the bitter burn of his fifth (or was it sixth?) shot going down, tipping his head back to get it to go down easily, well and truly smashed at this point. Madi would be proud. Speaking of… he hasn’t seen his best friend since they arrived at the party, the girl pestering him for hours earlier in the day to come party with her. Madi is tired of listening about The Breakup, and to be honest, Nick is too, but he didn’t agree to come with Madi only to have his supposedly best friend ditch him at the door, leaving him alone at a frat party where he knows absolutely no one. Especially not just so she can run off and suck face with some junior.

Nick spies his best friend making out with a boy he doesn’t know, back to him through the haze of the crowd, barely visible in the shitty purple LED lighting, especially with everyone packed into the house like sardines, the place filled to over capacity so that no one can move without being pressed up against someone or another. Well, unless they are sticking to the wall like Nick currently is. And he’s about to go give his friend a piece of his goddamn mind when he hears the voice beside him, his irritation still visible on his face as he turns to look.

“Hey.” The boy is staring at him with an intensity that is disarming, dark eyes set in an intense unwavering gaze as he looks, just enough light to make out the half-smile on the other boy’s face, only one corner of his mouth upturned slightly. The boy’s hair is half in his face, looking damp and mussed like he’s just stepped out of the shower. And Nick trails his gaze downwards, appreciating the other boy’s outfit, a black t-shirt with some obscure band logo, sleeves cut-off hastily, clearly homemade, the edges ragged, showing off the nice curves of the boy’s shoulders, the definition of his upper arms from hitting the gym obvious. All thrown over a pair of oversized black jeans.

The other boy is looking at him like he wants him, and Nick is too far gone to stop the delicious pit of arousal churning in his stomach, the euphoria going straight to his head, making him dizzy with desire. He’s not the type Nick usually goes for, in fact, the boy is the exact opposite of his ex, but that doesn’t stop his body from screaming fuck me now. “I haven’t seen you around before. Transfer or something?”

The question makes Nick give out a little snort of laughter. “No, not at all. Just not my scene.”

“Oh?” The boy raises an eyebrow questioningly, his tone clearly teasing as he slides in closer to avoid another boy trying to make his way past the two of them squeezed into the corner. Nick inhales sharply as the boy moves in closer, trapping him, his back pressed up against the wall with no room to go back further, the other boy bringing his arms up to brace against the wall, forming a makeshift barrier around Nick, casually caging him in. As he does, the smell of beer hits his nose, a smell he normally despises, but it’s mixing with something the boy is wearing underneath, something sweet and woody, and the combination is fucking intoxicating. “And what would be your scene then?”

He ignores the question, not wanting to say that maybe his scene is in his room, pitifully stuffing himself with fast food and crying into Madi’s shoulder about his ex months after the breakup, choosing instead to shift the topic, mumbling.  “You smell like shitty ass beer.”

“Shit, sorry.” The boy relaxes his arms, his face softening into a sheepish apologetic look that Nick finds almost endearing, backing up a step so that he’s not so deep into Nick’s personal space, and Nick takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartrate. “Got doused with beer earlier when they were spraying it into the crowd.”

“Seems like a waste of alcohol if you ask me.” The unexpected response makes the other boy’s eyes go wide, a moment of silence before he bursts out into raucous laughter.

“Yeah, shit, it probably is.” Nick hates that his breath hitches automatically as the other boy runs his hand through his black hair, shaking his head in apparent exasperation, looking unfortunately all too attractive in the process. “Imagine how many people could be more drunk than they already are if they hadn’t wasted all that beer.” The boy shoots him a grin, which he finds himself returning, or at least he hopes he is.

“So how did you get here?”

“My best friend, Madi. She dragged me here.” Nick admits, a slight eye-roll accompanying the statement. “Otherwise there’s no way I would come to a party in a dump like this. Complete shithole. Floor is disgusting, and the whole place looks like it’s going to collapse in on itself if they throw another couple of parties.” He finds himself having to yell to be heard, the music playing far too loud, the bass turned up so that he can quite literally feel the floorboards vibrating underneath his feet.

To Nick’s surprise and appreciation, the other boy appears to take an interest in listening to him, craning in closer and cocking his head to the side to hear better. His ex was an asshole that wouldn’t bother to make sure he was comfortable at parties, even after knowing Nick didn’t love large crowds, preferring to hang out with small groups of people instead. Plus points.  “Oh, I know Madi, met her at a general ed class last semester. She’s also friends with one of the frat bros here, I think. Nate. Anyways, enough about your friend. I haven’t even gotten your name yet.”

“It’s Nick.”

“Nick.” The other boy repeats it, long and drawn out as he rolls the sound around in his mouth, and the thought of the other boy saying his name as encouragement flashes in his head, mentally kicking himself for even thinking about blowing this complete stranger already within ten minutes of meeting. It’s the alcohol talking, definitely the alcohol. He desperately tries to repeat it to himself and believe it as he watches the other boy bite his lower lip in thought. Fuck. Yeah, so maybe it isn’t the alcohol making him want this boy. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t been fucked since The Breakup. Which was 3 months ago. Nick scowls. Fuck Madi for telling him he needs to get laid, and double fuck Madi for being right.

“And yours?”

“Evan. My name’s Evan.” The name sounds familiar, but Nick can’t quite place it, putting aside the feeling for now, instead choosing to concentrate on his plan of perhaps getting laid tonight. Which shouldn’t be hard considering the way Evan is looking at him right now. Like he wants to ravish Nick. With maybe a touch of possessiveness. Nick doesn’t mind the possessiveness, as long as they don’t go overboard. Possessive makes for a good fuck.

He gives in.

I’m here already, might as well have a good time.

He turns on the flirtiest smile he has, his lips curling into a natural irresistible pout as he keeps talking, his hand coming up to brush Evan’s arm, his fingertips lightly grazing the other boy’s bicep. Very obvious, very forward. No one would ever accuse Nick of being subtle, especially when it comes to getting what or who he wants. “Well, Evan, since this does seem to be your scene and not mine, what would you say to being responsible for me having a fun time tonight?” The words have the desired effect, Nick tracing the tightening of the other boy’s jaw with his eyes, pleased at the barely veiled show of restraint.

Nick feels a shiver of anticipation run up his spine as Evan leans forwards, tilting his head downwards as he speaks, the other boy’s hot breath against his earlobe, pressed in so close that Nick can feel the ghost of a touch from Evan’s lips. He isn’t able to prevent the gasp from escaping when he feels the other boy’s tongue, teeth giving him a quick nip. “Well, tonight’s your lucky night, baby. I am at your service. For anything you want.”

The words make Nick bristle, bringing both palms up to push at the other boy’s chest, startling Evan into stepping back off-balanced. “I don’t like being called baby.” He mutters. “Don’t do that.” His ex had called him baby, as an insult, somehow managing to insinuate every time that Nick was too demanding, too high maintenance, turning the word into a mocking reprimand each time. “My ex used to use that.” He pauses a beat. “Not in a good way.”

“Oh, shit.” Evan frowns, his eyebrows drawn together giving almost a menacing look, and Nick feels a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of Evan losing interest. Maybe I came off too strong. “Your ex sounds like an asshole.” He lets out the breath he doesn’t even realize he was holding, a ripple of relief running through him. “And all I meant…” Nick’s breath catches as the other boy slides his hand underneath his chin, tilting it upwards as he speaks. “…is that you look pretty. Delicate. Like someone who deserves to get everything they want.”

Everything they want.

The words make Nick flush, the heat crawling up the base of his neck, stinging his cheeks. I want you. And his first instinct is to throw all caution to the wind and regret his decisions tomorrow morning after the alcohol has worn off, when there isn’t a buzz in his veins making him want to throw himself at this boy. And he desperately wants it to be just a physical thing, after all, he doesn’t really know this guy. He could turn out to be some weirdo psychopath for all he knows, but damn it if it doesn’t make him feel good that this boy thinks he deserves everything. But before he can open his mouth and resign himself to his fate, a hand appears on Evan’s shoulder, accompanied by the loud voice of another boy.

“Hey, bro.” The hand on Evan’s shoulder becomes an arm pulling the taller boy into a half-headlock of sorts. “Not like you to hide away in the corner for so long. Don’t you miss being the life of our party?” The boy turns slightly, catching a glimpse of him, and Nick becomes acutely aware that he’s probably gaping. “Oh, I see now.” The boy gives him a salacious and knowing wink, casting a sidelong glance at Evan. “You must be the reason our leader here is hiding instead of greeting the guests.”

Leader?

The new boy smiles at him, bringing his free hand up in a little wave of acknowledgment. “I’m Nate, by the way.” Nate squints, giving him a careful once-over, and Nick feels like squirming, getting the distinct feeling that he is being sized up though he doesn’t know for what. “You’re Nick, aren’t you?” Nate grins excitedly at the realization. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Madi.”

Nick furrows his brows thinking how does he know Madi and why Madi’s talking about him, getting more lost within the conversation by the second. “Madi said he’d be your type, and it looks like he was right. Fuck.” Nate lets out a string of profanity, “Fuck me, Evan. That means I owe her fifty bucks. So really, fuck you.” Nate narrows his eyes at Evan, who isn’t even trying to hide his mirth, chortling at his friend’s distressed expression. “Unless, you two dickwads set me up.”

Evan shakes his head. “No, man, I didn’t even know who he was until he gave me his name.”

“Fuck.” Nate lets out one last swear in a drawn out sigh, smiling fondly at Evan. “Well, I hate to interrupt the overwhelming sexual tension between you two, but I do think our new president should give a speech at our first party of the year.”

“President?” Nick echoes the word without meaning to, the sound of loud buzzing in his ears drowning out the sound of everything else around them, noting the shit-eating grin on Evan’s face that is getting wider by the minute.

“Yeah, president of Chi Alpha Omega. You know, the ones hosting this party right now.”

Nick can feel the color draining from his face, accompanied by some wooziness in his head. Madi had told him about the president of ΧΑΩ before, about how he “got around” quite frequently, always with someone new every other weekend. And apparently in no short supply of people who want to casually hook-up with him. In short, a player through and through. And Nick can’t tell whether he’s disappointed that Evan is probably not interested in any type of relationship or just excited that the boy is likely a really good fuck. Or both.

But none of that really even matters because he had literally called Evan’s house a shithole.

Fuck.

Evan winks at him before turning to Nate. “Yeah, I can definitely say a few words. And by the way, Nick here thinks we should probably stop spraying beer into the crowd to hype up the party.” He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the overly serious and solemn expression on Evan’s face as he says that. “Apparently we’ve been wasting alcohol when we could be using it to get everyone even more drunk.” Nick wants to sink into the floor at the other boy’s next words, hoping desperately that the ground can swallow him up.

“And he’s also made me aware of the fact that apparently, we live in a shithole.”

Nate’s eyes go wide. Nick wants to kill himself.

“Well, not exactly a lie.” Nate laughs, clearly bemused by his worried expression. “We’ve been trying to get administration to move us out of this shithole for ages. They just won’t do it. So we figure if we throw a few extra ragers this year, and this dumpster fire of a house finally breaks, maybe they’ll consider letting us have a different building for the frat house.”

“Wait, so…” Nick says the words slowly, his head slow to catch up, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “…you all actually want to break this house. Like that’s your actual plan, and I’m not stuck in some weird-ass twilight zone time warp imagining this.”

“Correct.” Evan nods.

“You all are fucking crazy.”

“Correct.”

“Sooo, about that speech Evan?” Nate asks, stealing another glance at Nick. “Any time soon? Or am I assuming that you’re gonna be busy for the next hour or so?”

The implication makes him half-cringe on the inside. Is it that obvious?

“Yeah, of course, now is fine.” And then Nick feels the other boy’s hand around his, Evan’s fingers settling to interlock with his naturally as if they belong there, warm and inviting. A little overly warm, probably the alcohol. But it feels nice, gives him the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest for the first time in a long time. “You’re coming with me, baby.” Nick wants to protest the nickname, but he isn’t given the opportunity to, finding himself being dragged along by the taller boy, weaving through the crowd of people deftly, trying to keep close to the other boy’s back, his free hand reaching out to grab the untucked edge of Evan’s t-shirt. The other boy heads to the kitchen, passing by the crowd that is busy dancing, flirting, and Nick reminds himself to yell at Madi tomorrow, spotting his best friend out of the corner of his eye still attached to the face of a guy.

The kitchen is slightly less crowded, the only people slipping in and out to grab more beer or shots, the entire kitchen counter covered with half empty alcohol—rum, vodka, gin, whiskey. God, how much booze do they have?  Evan doesn’t let go of his hand as he opens the fridge, rummaging around before finally coming up with another handle of vodka. The taller boy just shakes his head as Nate gives him a questioning look. And then Nick follows as he is dragged along again, making their way back to the living room, heading straight towards the epicenter of all the noise in the house. Evan finally lets go of his hand, and Nick feels a twinge of concern as he watches the other boy climb up onto the ping pong table, ignoring the cry of protests from the people playing beer pong. No way he’s sober enough for this.  Somehow Evan’s voice is louder than the music, his voice floating above the noise.

“Hey, we having fun tonight?” The cheers and hoots rise up from the crowd, Evan clearly reveling in the attention, waving his arms to tell everyone to pump up the noise, and they do. After a minute or so of cheering, the other boy puts his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, quieting the crowd.

“Here’s to the first party of many this year for Chi Alpha Omega. As the president for this year, hope to see all of you underclassmen at rush in the spring.” Evan grins, and Nick hates that the other boy is so charismatic, everyone in the room turning to hang on to his every word. “And to kick off a good night, how about yours truly start off a round of body shots?” The crowd hoots and hollers. “First up, my newest friend, Nick.” He feels himself outright blushing this time, Evan looking downwards to wink at him, some of the people in the front of the crowd turning to stare.

He startles as Evan jumps down from the ping pong table, landing unevenly, grabbing on to his shoulder for balance before scooting back on to the table to take a seat, his legs hanging off the edge. “How about it, baby?”

And he’s about to object, but his mind goes completely blank as Evan crosses his arms over his chest, gripping the hem of his t-shirt in order to pull it up over his head, the other boy’s arm muscles tightening. The skin above Evan’s jeans comes into view first, the white band of the other boy’s Calvin Klein boxers just peeking out from the top, a sharp contrast from the smooth tan of Evan’s skin on top and the black of his jeans on the bottom. Nick can see a glimpse of the other boy’s hip bones, sharp and defined, and his gaze trails further upward to his belly button, abs slightly visible as Evan moves, and all the way up to the other boy’s chest.

But it’s the tattoo that makes Nick stop breathing.

It’s intricate, clearly well done and by a tattoo artist that cares about how the finished product looks, a revolver with its barrel pointing downwards, the tip disappearing under the white of the other boy’s boxers. And Nick doesn’t think he’s ever had a specific thing for guns. But fuck. Because he wants to think that he’s better than this, better than having the only thought running through his head being it’s pointing to his cock. And the overwhelming urge to find out just exactly how true it is.

“You’re up, baby.” The words make Nick snap his glance upwards, tearing his gaze away from the ink on the other boy’s skin, the embarrassment flitting through him as he realizes how long he had been staring, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Evan, who is grinning at him, definitely amused. He’s already poured the shot, messily spilling at least two shot’s worth of vodka on the ping pong table, and Nick experiences a stroke of utter insanity, the words coming out before he can stop them.

“You should probably clean that up.”

“Hmm, maybe later.”

“It’s going to get sticky.”

“Maybe I like sticky.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that the whole scene is probably bizarre as fuck, talking about cleaning while the whole room is waiting for him to take a shot off a boy he doesn’t even know. But Nick feels as if he’s in a haze, entirely blocking out the rest of the room as Evan crooks a finger at him, motioning for him to get closer, the other boy’s legs parting on the table, stretching apart to give him room to fit in between, and Nick is uncomfortably aware of Evan’s jeans, the material stretching over the other’s boy’s thighs, even tighter now that Evan is sitting.

“Come.”

He comes.

The shiver of arousal runs through him as he gets closer, coming up to the edge of the table, Evan winking at him as he squeezes Nick’s sides slightly with his thighs, making the feeling curl deliciously in his groin. And the other boy lies down slowly, not breaking eye contact with Nick as he does, and god help him, because it only makes the outline of the other boy’s abs deepen. Fuck. The shot glass is placed right over Evan’s belly button, wobbling as the other boy breathes in and out, and Nick winces as Evan starts off a chant of encouragement.

“Drink, drink, drink.”

Fuck it, it’s just one shot.

He doesn’t try to overthink it, leaning down with his head to clumsily grasp the shot glass with his mouth, intending on throwing his head back and downing the vodka all at once. He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything as he braces his palms against the other boy’s thighs, enjoying the feeling of muscle underneath his hands. But he’s not used to the motion, not able to use his hands, and he ends up spilling half of it, feeling Evan’s thighs tense around his waist as the cold liquid hits the other boy’s bare skin, some of the vodka settling into the crevices of Evan’s abs, already starting to slide off his body.

Nick doesn’t know why he does it.

But the next instant, his tongue is on Evan’s skin, feeling the other boy tense as he does it, licking the rest of the vodka off of the other boy, the feeling of burning still in the back of his throat from the half he does drink, dipping his tongue in to run along the grooves of Evan’s abs, the slight saltiness of the other boy’s sweat mixing with the taste of alcohol. And he’s pressing half-kisses, half sloppy licks against the other boy’s skin, the tips of his fingers reaching upwards from where they’re resting against Evan’s thighs to brush against the boy’s sharp hipbones, an inch or so above his jeans.

As he dips his tongue into his belly button, Evan bucks his hips upwards, the wanting movement making the arousal go straight to his cock. And he tells himself it’s because he’s trying to clean every last bit of vodka off of Evan’s body, but it isn’t the alcohol giving him a high as he runs the tip of his tongue slowly down the barrel of the gun tattoo that Evan has, the thought of going further and further down until he reaches the other boy’s cock making him hot and dizzy. The thought of Evan holding his head down and tugging on his hair as he gives the other boy a blowjob. Further, further. Evan squirms as he licks his way downwards over the exposed skin, and Nick wonders if it tickles, his nose already nudging the edge of the other boy’s boxers.

A bad fucking idea.

And he’s just about to pull away, the feeling of regret mixed with horror hitting him as he surfaces from his reckless decision, half-aware that they’re still in a very public room for the first time since Evan had told him Come, when he feels it. Evan half-hard against his palm, his hand accidentally brushing too close to the other boy’s inner thighs as he tries to move back, and before he can process that fact, everything around him moves.

Nick yelps as he feels Evan’s hands on the back of his thighs, dangerously close to his ass, and he’s suddenly being lifted up into the air, his legs coming up to wrap themselves around the other boy’s waist, his hands grabbing at Evan’s shoulders to balance himself. He vaguely hears the sound of catcalls coming from the crowd, his head falling forward, his face buried into the crook of the other boy’s neck, the smell of beer in Evan’s hair and that smell of wood and vanilla. A few quick strides, and Nick finds his back up against the wall for the second time tonight, Evan’s hips pressed into him, grinding him up against the wall as he plants kisses against Nick’s neck.

The other boy is definitely completely hard now, the feeling against his thigh each time Evan moves his hips making the arousal tighten in Nick’s groin. And it’s a fleeting thought, that he is grateful for wearing a white tank top, giving Evan free access, the other boy’s tongue darting out to run itself along the top of Nick’s collarbones, sucking likely-to-be-hickeys into his skin hungrily.

His fingers curl themselves into the other boy’s hair for purchase, needing something to grab onto as he writhes in Evan’s embrace, his eyes closed, his breath coming out ragged. An unbidden moan comes forth as he feels Evan sneak his hands underneath his tank top, the other boy’s fingers splayed against the skin at his waist, his thumbs digging into the spot just above his hipbones. Evan’s hands feel hot against his skin, burning into him more than he thought possible, and Nick’s eyes flutter open only to remember that everyone is still there, that they’re not alone.

“W-wait,” The words come out weakly in between little pants and far too soft for Evan to hear anyway, and Nick wonders if the idea of the other boy fucking him against the wall in front of a crowd of people should turn him on as much as it does. Fuck.

“Get a fucking room!”

The loud jeer seems to snap Evan out of it, the other boy stopping his attack against Nick’s neck long enough for him to catch his breath. Most of the room has gone back to whatever they were doing before, and it’s nearly impossible to pick out whoever had yelled it. “Don’t mind if I do.” Evan grins at him, not waiting for a proper response. “Hold on.” Nick just manages to get his arms around Evan’s shoulders before the other boy starts moving, hoisting him up slightly to get a better grip on the underside of his thighs, Evan’s chin nestled into his shoulder, the other boy’s breathing hot on his neck.

The sounds of the party slowly start to fade away as they ascend the stairs to the second floor, the stairway narrow and not lit, and Nick winces as he is jostled against the wall a few times on their way up, Evan’s steps not as steady he would have hoped. All he can hear now is the other boy’s breathing, slow and deep, the sound comforting, and Nick breathes in and out to match the other boy’s. I wonder if Madi was right, and I’m his type.  And he’s sure that he’s Evan’s type physically, the whole display downstairs has convinced him of that, but for the first (okay, maybe second or third) time tonight, he has the niggling suspicion that he might like it if he is Evan’s type for more, the way the other boy puts him at ease so naturally and effortlessly perhaps giving him more butterflies than he’d care to admit.

His mind unwillingly flashes him scenes on what it would be like dating Evan. Would he like his eggs scrambled or poached? What shows would they binge together? Would Evan show him off to his frat brothers?

Evan licks a stripe behind his ear where he’s most sensitive. Ah, fuck it. Who cares about dating? Nick knows he’s going to get fucked till he forgets his own name tonight.  

tags: @thenickgirl @mybelovednick @sukiipjs

[reconstructwriter]

tell me everything you can about the jaster/feemor fic 👀

Oh, I was hoping someone would ask me about this one *rubs hands gleefully*

So my vague thoughts about the Mandalorian mission landed on: what if instead of Qui Gon and Obi Wan someone went undercover among the New Mandalorians? But why would the Jedi Council do that instead? Oh…what if Jaster survived Korda 6 – then it’s not a simpler choice between terrorist group or other. And wOuLd’Nt It Be FuNnY if Jaster had a terrible crush on a ‘New Mandalorian’ bodyguard 😉

I have long had the headcanon that Mace is a night owl, not an morning lark. Jedi Council meetings Do Not support this.

Mace nursed his third cup of caff as dawn’s rays crept into the Council chambers specifically to lay siege upon his eyeballs. Whichever old Jedi said dawn was wiser than dusk ought’ve kept that thought to themselves. Truly, he loved being a Jedi – except this part. Dawn was too sleep-addled to be wise. He had, upon being ‘promoted’ to the Council, advocated for crack of noon meetings instead.

Which had failed seven to five. Yoda and Dooku were traitors.

“Petitioned for Republic aid, Mandalore has,” Yoda said. Just as Mace took a sip, the old troll. Used to dramatic announcements while drinking, Mace didn’t inhale his caff. Shaak Ti, their newest member, had yet to manage their grandmaster’s particular proclivity and choked on her tea. As well she should. The words ‘Mandalore’ and ‘Petition for Republic aid’ had never, in all the galaxy’s history, been in the same sentence unless another planet or people and the word ‘against’ were involved. Tera Sinube and Jocasta Nu cleared out their ears, certain they hadn’t heard correctly. To counter the disbelief that reverberated like an opera singer‘s, Yoda projected the petition for all Council members to see.

Which, yes, that was Mandalore. The planet name. On a petition for Jedi assistance. Mace had fallen asleep in a Council Meeting again. “Somewhere the Sith Hells are building an ice-skating rink,” Oppo remarked.

One of those weird shared dreams.

Tera Sinube snickered, then frowned. “Duke Kryze?” the old Crechemaster tapped his cane in thought. “I was unaware Mandalore has united under a single leader.”

“It certainly hasn’t,” Jocasta Nu straightened, a lecture at the ready. Mace would dream of many things but not one of Jocasta’s lectures. “A terrorist leader claims to be the ruler as well.” The worst ones always did. “By way of the Darksaber,” she added with an edge. Few were the successful robberies of the archives. Mace pitied the terrorist Mandalore-claimer. “And,” her voice dripped with disgust. “Jaster Mereel.”

Mace had no idea what Jaster Mereel had done to earn greater ire than a thief of an archive artifact but Dooku, closer to her, was up on the latest gossip. “Pestering you with more requests?” he smirked.

“Three leaders at least then, yet only one asks,” Yoda commented.

And there lay the complication. “Do we have the right to interfere then?” Shaak Ti asked the needed question. “Mandalore has not joined the Republic nor agreed to its laws and if we become the sort of people who burst into everyone’s home to lay down our chosen law – where will we stop.”

“As a student of history, we wouldn’t,” Jocasta said.

“Contentious, Mandalorians and Jedi have been,” Yoda spoke with hard-earned experience. “Harm not the unarmed, our code says. Accept the surrender of all, our oaths demand. Yet never unarmed the Mandalorians are. Surrender, dishonorable is seen.”

Add in intermittent conquests and bouts of Jedi-hunting and you had the seed of every Jedi-Mandalorian conflict in their shared history, Mace thought. “A shatterpoint looms over this mission, I sense that well enough. Should we break it? Mandalore’s fate will be decided on this mission, whether we take it or not. And if we do take it, who would we begin to send?” The experts of Mandalor were few and far between and many would be obviously unwise to send there.

“That sounds like a political travesty,” Dooku said, “Requiring a skilled negotiator. I would recommend my own Padawan. Qui Gon Jinn has made Master.”

“I disagree,” Yaddle spoke up at last.

A flicker of gobsmacked rippled through the Force before Dooku’s face and presence settled to forbidding impassivity. This did nothing to deter someone who had leapt straight from Padawan to Master centuries ago. “Shaak Ti is right, and Grandmaster Yoda speaks wisdom,” Yaddle paused, an unspoken ‘for once’ lingered teasingly. “Three rulers at least and no simple choice, previous Jedi-Mandalorian conflicts aside even the best diplomat would struggle not to add further conflict to such a mess. We can act but should not act openly.”

“You suggest the Shadows,” Councilor Piell stated the obvious. “One of your undercover agents.”

Yaddle gave Yarael the same look Mace often gave Depa for her teatime conversation topics but made no answer.

“Well, the poor soul will at least avoid Jaster’s obsession – if they keep their cover,” Jocasta said.

“There is one minor problem. About going undercover,” Tera Sinube brought up a picture. “Death Watch would be difficult but nothing your Shadows couldn’t handle. Jaster Mereel’s supercommandoes will be easy enough to infiltrate, however may I present a general indication of Sundari’s population.”

The picture was nothing that wouldn’t be snagged off a public site. A random section of the city, clearly during rush hour traffic with all the people milling about everywhere – people who were all human, all blond-haired, all pale-eyed.

“All of them?”

“Do we have any Jedi who fit?” Jocasta asked. Mace nodded in agreement. He dimly remembered one Padawan who would fit but that would be an even worse idea than Dooku’s.

Yaddle pursed her lips, “I may know of one.”