#Furiously typing on my keyboard to get the thoughts out

[nerdnag]

about words, in words

(I should be studying, but I had a huge epiphany on my way home from work and I literally can't let this go unless I write it down first. You'll understand why soon enough.)

About a month ago I saw a poll which posed the question, "what pov is your internal monologue in?"

The choices were as follows: 1st person singular POV, 1st person plural POV, 2nd person POV, 3rd person POV, Other, or I don't have an internal monologue.

I stared at the post, trying - as I'm sure many other people did - to capture my own thought process in the moment, in order to figure out which of the alternatives fit best for me. But I wasn't really able to come to any conclusion, because the words of the poll were just circulating around in my brain, muddling everything up (hah, foreshadowing). So I saved the post to my draft, deciding that I'd have to think about it and return to it later.

Over the course of the month, I've been revisiting the post a few times, but still without reaching much of a conclusion. Slowly, I started wondering whether I even had much of an internal monologue at all; but I couldn't really put into words (hah, foreshadowing again) why that was, or what my thought process actually did look like.

Until today.

On my way home from work, it suddenly struck me, seemingly from nowhere.

I only think in words when I'm thinking about words. Otherwise, I think in images, feelings, vague fuzzy concepts, or sounds.

What do I mean by that bold sentence? Well, I think in words when my thought circulate around something I've read, something I've heard someone say, something I intend to write, something I intend to say, etc. In those cases, I think the words themselves. When I was biking home from working, I wasn't thinking, "When I get home, I'm going to write a Tumblr post about how my thought process works". I thought, "On my way home from work, it suddenly struck me, seemingly from nowhere." And not because I was narrating myself in 1st person past tense; no, because I was thinking about how I was going to phrase this epiphany that I had just had a moment ago.

Other times, I may be repeating the words of a message I received; or a message I intend to write; or a line I just heard someone say; or the sentence I just read; or a sentence I am intending to say.

But when I'm not thinking about words? Well, then I don't think in words. When I think about my week, I see flashes of images; I imagine sounds around me; I smell my future surroundings; I feel a hint of the emotions I expect to feel. But never do I phrase these things into words unless I intend to communicate them in some way.

So of course I couldn't figure out what POV my internal monologue was in - all I could think about at the time was the words of the poll, because that's literally how I think about everything. My thoughts were obscured by my own thoughts.

Now, this is a pretty cool epiphany in and of itself. But after I'd had this epiphany, and thought it through for a few minutes (through this tumblr post I knew I was going to write), I realised that this might have implications and meanings that I hadn't even considered before.

I remembered how, when I started school, I was obsessed with words. I remembered how my mother bought me a notebook to save words in; I would write down words I liked on its lined pages, one word per line, with no punctuation or explanation. I would fill pages and pages of this book with words. And I would write poems about words - about how fascinating they were to me, how beautiful and fragile and full of meaning they were - in a way that was absurdly abstract for my age; almost like I was picking the words up and examining them through a microscope with a critical eye.

Then I remembered how I've always struggled to communicated my thoughts well to others; how the images and concepts that seem so clear in my brain seem so impossible to phrase into words. And I remembered how, throughout the years, I've slowly become better at this, especially in my recent professional years; how the only way to survive countless meetings and presentations and social gatherings where I'm expected to communicate with people - to communicate well - has been to train myself to think in words. To reflect in words, in phrases, in retorts and responses, so that when someone threw me a word ball, I could quickly throw it back rather than fumble helplessly on the spot.

And then it struck me that, when I do think in words, I usually do so in English; because English words make up such a large piece of my daily life. Pretty much my entire social life is in English; my interests are almost exclusively in English; I write fiction in English, I read in English, I sing in English, I talk to friends in English, I study in English, I watch shows in English, I listen to music in English, I play table top RPG’s in English, I blog in English, I do volunteer work in English. And so, naturally, I usually think in English. Only time I really think in Swedish is when I think about work (most of it, at least) or the social interactions I have with Swedish friends or family.

And then, it also struck me that, if I'm so often thinking in words that I read/heard/said or will read/hear/say... When will I ever be here and now, in the present?

... I guess the answer to that is that I'll be in the present when I don't think in words. When there are no words to think about, no words present in my mind. When I allow myself to simply... exist, and feel, and hear, and push the words out of my mind. Because the words, as fascinating as they've always been to me, do not come naturally to me.

And that also makes me wonder... If I had no words to think about... Or at the very least, much fewer words to think about... What would my thoughts be like? What would my life be like...?

[samkerrworshipper]

Would you please be able to write something about you getting the call up for the WC and calling Sam afterwards crying. Just lots of fluff xx

Thank you

the phone call | sam kerr x lionesses reader

sorry my lovelies… i’m still yet to leave bed because of this pain flare up

sorry if i’m not interacting with your messages and kind words.. trying to limit my screen time but i promise im seeing them all and it means the world to me

for now you all get some little drabbles that are sitting in my drafts xo

It’s 6pm.

The calls were supposed to start going out at 4 and it’s 6.

You’re paralysed, stuck to your spot on the couch, your feet anxiously tied up in the blanket draped over you as you stare down at your phone, patiently awaiting a call.

It hasn’t been an easy ride to get to this point, almost a year ago you were lying in a hospital bed, unmoving and unsure whether you’d ever walk again, let alone be in contention to play football for your country.

You’ve worked your ass off, tens of hundreds of hours in the gym, rehabbing, working on your strength, all for this call.

You know realistically that the longer you’re left waiting, the longer that your chances are depleting.

Coaches make the easiest calls first, the starting eleven, then their moving bench, players who will still get plenty of time on the pitch, then they move onto the maybe players, players whose skill sets might be needed depending on the team, then it’s onto the emergency players, then it’s the fillers, players that are just kind of on the squad because of courtesy, even though the chances that they will play is next to nothing.

In your mind, you fall into some place between the last two, Sarina doesn’t owe you anything though, the last time you played for her was the Euro’s semi final, when everything went to shit for you and sure, you’ve worked hard since then, but sometimes hard work isn’t always enough, especially in the world of soccer politics.

You sent Sam out of the house to run some errands half an hour ago, insisting you would be fine, but right now you wished you hadn’t, because there is nothing you need more than to be cuddled up in your fiancé’s arms.

She’s been there for you every single step of the way, quite literally being the person who helped you walk your first steps after surgery.

The road has been tough for the both of you, and you know there is nothing Sam wants more than for you to be with her in Australia over the Summer.

If it isn’t meant to be, then it isn’t, you’ll be there anyways on the sidelines supporting her but there is something so much more satisfying about knowing that you might get to be on the pitch beside her.

You don’t know what you’ll do if you are back in the squad, sure you’ve been to the last two camps, but being named in the actual squad is something else, especially for the world cup, it would mean the whole world to you.

Your thoughts are enough to drain out the ping from messages, but the desperate vibration in your hands isn’t.

Your eyes dart down to the screen, bursting open like you’d just consumed a energy drink when Sarina’s name pops up on your screen.

‘If you have a spare minute would love to chat whenever your free.’

You’ve been free since 12pm last night, sleep didn’t come for you, instead you’d sat by the phone, waiting for any kind of notification.

Sam had tried her hardest to pry you away, forcing you to come on a morning run with her, which was extremely abnormal, neither you or Sam where runners, but you assumed it was just your girlfriend trying to make you feel a little bit better.

You typed at your phone like a mad man, unwilling to miss this precious window that seemed to have opened for you, you didn’t even had the chance to actually think about Sarina actually calling you, too busy furiously tapping at the keyboard on your phone.

‘Free to chat whenever suits you’

You didn’t have much time to look at your text, mere seconds after the bubble went blue Sarina’s contact was popping up on your screen.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do much more than aggressively tap the green button and watch as the call connected and Sarina’s face popped up on your screen.

“Y/n, good to see you, how’s your day been? I’ve been told there is quite a storm in London today?”

You don’t want to talk about weather, or this as trivial as how your day is going, but you put a smile on for Sarina anyways, a cute little smile that you normally save for press conferences after a particularly bad match or rough game.

“Sarina, it’s an honour as always, I’m doing well thanks, the weather is definitely shocking but we’re used to it, how’s it doing in the Netherlands?”

Sarina smiles at you, and it makes you feel a little bit uneasy, why can’t she just rip the bandaid off.

“It’s nice today, blue skies. How’s Sam? I don’t know if I had the chance to congratulate you on your engagement yet.”

You put on another little smile, trying to act like the nerves growing in your stomach aren’t bubbling up so badly that you feel as if you’re about to vomit.

“Sam’s good, we’re very happy, I’ve sent her out to get groceries which I’m regretting because she hasn’t got a clue what we need.”

Sarina laughs heartily, and it’s almost enough to make you feel a little bit better about the whole situation.

“Well I hope she’ll be happy to know that you’ll be in Australia over the Summer playing for England, if you’d like?”

All thoughts in your brain are cut off when you catch onto what Sarina is saying and then all of a sudden you can feel the tears building up in the back of your eyes.

“You’re serious? You want me in Australia?”

Sarina just laughs once again.

“You were part of our winning Euro’s team y/n, there is nothing I would love more than to welcome you back. You are a crucial part of our defence, especially with Leah missing and there is nothing we need more than your leadership. You’ve been fantastic on the pitch recently, both club and at camp, if you keep performing as you are, I think you’ll be very deserving of taking your place back in the starting eleven, how does that sound?”

You have to put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from sobbing.

“Thank you so much Sarina, you genuinely don’t know how much this means to me, I’ll prove to you everyday that I deserve to be there and I’ll do whatever I can on and off the pitch to help the team.”

Sarina just smiles to herself.

“I don’t doubt that at all, all I ask is that you try your hardest, I’ll let you go now y/n, have a good couple of weeks, I’ll see you at the airport.”

Before you can embarrass yourself any further, you're wishing Sarina farewell and pressing the red button at the bottom of your screen.

It takes a few seconds for it all to set in for you, the happenings of your phone call slowly sinming into your brain.

It’s when it all sinks in that you realise tears are still dripping down your face, and before you can think about it too hard your searching for Sam’s contact and clicking the call button.

To Sam’s credit, it takes about three seconds before your girlfriends face pops up on your screen.

“I think I might need a shopping list- baby why are you crying?”

Just looking at Sam makes you perk up a little bit, she’s all flustered which you don’t see very often.

“Sarina called, I’m in the squad, she wants me in the squad.”

Just saying it creates a whole other wave of emotions of flowing, and this time you don’t even try to stop the sobs leaving your mouth.

Sam lights up immediately.

“Baby, that is awesome, I’m not surprised at all, I’m leaving the shops now, I’ll be home in five minutes we can talk about it then, hmm?”

You nod eagerly, a big smile breaking out across its face.

“I’m so proud of you babe, you’ve worked so hard for this, I’ll be home in a couple of minutes, okay?”

You just nod at Sam, far to giddy to do much besides jerk your head up and down like a energised puppy.

You weren’t quite sure what the future held for your Summer in Australia, but you that no matter what, no matter the injuries, setbacks, bad games, Sam would be there for you through it all, she’d be there for you, no matter what side of the dug out you were sitting on.

[izvmimi]

cw: language. one (1) reference to a rico nasty song.

The sudden clatter of a knife being dropped on a cutting board should have surprised you, but you’re too focused on the screen of the laptop before you to notice that Izuku has stopped chopping vegetables. He looks up over at you carefully, but you continue to type furiously on the other end of the kitchen island, not registering the set of eyes focused on your person.

“Babe?”

Clickity clack, clickity clack, goes the keyboard.

He sighs.

“___.”

His voice is stern and just loud enough that you do somehow hear it, and pulled out of your flurry of vitriolic thoughts, you look at him quizzically.

“Huh?”

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You grimace, then smile and scoff in just the way that concerns Izuku even further. He could tell from the pressure on the keyboard and the small noises of frustration that slipped out of you indiscriminately that you were clearly upset about something, and he could name a couple things that had popped up recently in the news to make you feel that way, but whenever you got to typing for this long with this level of focus, it could only mean one thing.

“I’m just drafting a response to a few criticisms I’ve seen online recently.”

His lips press into a thin line.

“Love, you promised-“

You frown at him and raise an index finger. “First of all, I did not make any promises-" He raises an eyebrow and you look at him sheepishly, then look away. “Fine.”

“Let me see it,” he insists. Before you can even consider closing your laptop, he’s behind you, one hand resting softly on your shoulder. His eyes scan the top half of the reply in the comments and you watch his response attentively, taking in how his frown deepens the longer he reads.

“Baby.” He rubs your shoulder gently, but you can tell he’s between irritated and disappointed with you immediately. Defensively, you shrug him off softly then cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m just communicating my discontentment.”

“Really?” He highlights a sentence at the end, and clears his throat before reading it aloud. “If I see you in the street, bitch your ass is done? That’s discontentment?”

You can feel your cheeks burn.

“It’s a quote!!! From a song!”

Izuku places a hand atop your head and squeezes gently. “It’s also a threat?”

“But-“

“___, you’re a professional Hero. This person could be Quirkless.”

You pause, consider, and then let out a sound of frustration, raising your hands in the air before placing your forehead to the desk.

“Look, I’m just tired of unkind things being said in the media. I don’t mind if they say mean things to me but we’re gonna have a conversation if you’re gonna attack my friends so viciously.” Your voice is muffled and whiny, which means you’re in your inconsolable mood, but by now Izuku is practiced and can get through to you. Izuku’s hands shift from your shoulder to your back and he pulls the stool beside you to sit down.

“I get it, but people say stupid things all the time. Think about what people say about me daily.”

Your head turns to face him.

“The media literally adores you, what are you talking about?” Izuku gives your a cheeky half-smile.

“True, but they didn’t always.”

You give him a soft punch on the shoulder. “Show-off.”

He laughs, and pulls you to him. “You know what it was like when I was a kid though.”

You frown again, thinking about the punches she still thinks she owes Bakugou despite the fact that he’s redeemed himself, and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Can I delete it?” he asks.

“Sure,” you agree. 

“Good girl.”

You feel your cheeks warm but don’t say anything as the angry text disappears. He kisses your cheek and gets up again to finish preparing the meal he’d started. You get up as well and wash your hands before joining him.

You work side by side for a few moments before Izuku bumps you gently on the hip. 

“Are you gonna save a bit of the feistiness for bed?” he asks, eyes twinkling.

You bump him back on the hip.

“Pervert.”

He beams. “For you? Absolutely.”

[eightyonekilograms]

(OP, this is not directed at you, you're great and this is a rant that has been brewing for a while.)

But of all the different types of People Wrong On The Internet, left-NIMBYs— even though they're not the worst by a long shot— are the ones who most reliably make me start pounding on my keyboard.

I don't know for sure why, but I think it's because left-NIMBYism combines the defects of

Vibes-based politics where repeating slogans replaces critical thought

Ideologies that accomplish exactly the opposite of what they ostensibly fight for, and end up enriching their enemies and impoverishing themselves

Plenty of political coalitions do one or the other; left-NIMBYs manage to do both. Because it's all based on "we hate corporations" (even when the corporations are openly telling you that they prefer when less housing is built) and "market-rate housing can't fix our problems" (where there are now so many peer-reviewed studies showing unambiguously that building more market-rate housing lowers rents and eviction rates in the area, while the stricter the zoning is, the higher the rents are and the worse homelessness is).

And they do all of this while being unfailingly smug and self-assured that they're the good guys, while the people like me tearing my hair out trying to get more housing to be built so the rent can go down get called Randian Villains and "right-coded bloggers". And meanwhile landlords, REITs, etc. are laughing all the way to the bank at how easy it is to get dupes who should be their enemies to fight furiously on their side.

One of these days the rage will just build until the dam breaks and my psychic powers are unleashed. You'll know it happens when Nathan J. Robinson's head suddenly explodes like the guy in Scanners.

[pepperonidk]

Home for the Holidays || h.js

pairing: joshua hong x reader warnings: FLUFF, also this is a very christmas centered fic word count: 3.5k summary: oh no! it’s the holidays and you need a fake boyfriend! good thing resident hottie joshua hong is on the job!

a/n: happy november, mariah carey has officially defrosted so it is holiday szn! this is also my apology gift... life has been kicking my ass so i have not been able to upload anything lately for all my love :( (this is posted on my marvel account!)

main masterlist

‘Twas the night before holiday break, when all through the apartment complex, not a creature was sleeping, not even a mouse; luggage was packed, without so much a care, in hopes that they would all soon be out of there. All except one, who wished they could stay.

“I can’t believe you told your mom you had a boyfriend,” your roommate, Jeonghan, laughed. “Actually, I can’t believe your mom believes you have a boyfriend.”

You shot a look at him before tossing a pillow in his direction. “I’m just tired of her getting onto me about becoming a spinster,” you rolled your eyes as you recalled your mom’s pleading voice over the phone.

“So have you met anyone yet?”

You couldn’t see her but you just knew how her eyebrows were raised in interest. It had become almost a weekly question, and for a second, you considered just hanging up right then, but then an idea came.

“Actually, I have,” you lied. It was only September, and you weren’t going to see your parents until the holidays, and by then, you could come up with a fake break-up story with your imaginary boyfriend.

“Really?” you heard your mother squeal in excitement and you almost felt bad. Almost. “Tell me all about him, and make sure you bring him home for Christmas, I want to meet him!”

You couldn’t help but crack a sad smile as you fed your mom fake details about your fake relationship. “We met in class and started studying together and one thing led to another, and now we’re dating.” There. The bare minimum, but enough to keep her satisfied.

The impact of the pillow against your face snapped you out of your thoughts. “Weren’t you supposed to break up with your fake boyfriend before break?” Jeonghan questioned. “What happened to that?”

Plopping down beside him on the couch, you sighed and hugged the pillow to your face. Jeonghan pulled the pillow away and you gave him a dirty look. “You know my mom,” you began. “I just didn’t want to disappoint her. I thought I would be able to find another excuse as to why he couldn’t make it to Christmas, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer after he missed Thanksgiving.” You turned to give Jeonghan a pleading look. “What do I do?” you asked.

“Well, I still think you should tell her,” Jeonghan admitted, trailing off as he rest his chin against his fist. “Or, you could bring home a fake boyfriend.”

Immediately, you shot up and gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean a fake boyfriend?”

“A blow up doll,” he rolled his eyes. “No, obviously you just get someone to pretend to be your boyfriend and then they pretend to break up with you, and you pretend to be sad, and then that’s it. Easy peasy.” Jeonghan shrugged his shoulders and stood up to pick up his phone from the kitchen counter as if what he suggested was the simplest, most obvious idea. You could hear him furiously typing into his keyboard as he walked away from you.

“Jeonghan, you’ve officially gone bonkers.” However, the longer you thought about it, the more desperate you became. “How would I even find anyone? Everyone’s packing to go home. And on top of that, who would even be willing to pretend to be my boyfriend? They’d have to be really stupid, or really bored to agree.”

“Sure, I’m in.”

“Excuse me?” you asked incredulously.

“I said I’m in,” he repeated with a shrug of his shoulders and an easy smile that made your stomach drop to your feet. How was he so chill with this?

A few minutes after Jeonghan suggested his idea, you heard a knock at your door. Jeonghan gave you a mischievous smirk as he opened the door and welcomed in the boy you’d been crushing on all semester. Joshua was best friends with your roommate, Jeonghan and his other best friend Seungcheol and although you had hung out with them a few times, you always found yourself getting nervous around him. He was never anything but kind to you, always making sure you were included in the conversation and taking time to fill you in on the inside jokes.

Of course, Jeonghan and Seungcheol knew about your crush and every so often would try to drop not-so-subtle hints to Joshua. One time, Jeonghan and Seungcheol told you and Joshua that the plan was to have dinner at 6:30 p.m. but didn’t show up until nearly 8. It was obvious that they were trying to set you up, but Joshua never made a move and you didn’t want to be presumptuous, but at least he never made it awkward either. You knew Jeonghan was currently reeling inside at how perfectly things were falling into place.

“But why?” You asked, still unable to process what Joshua was agreeing to.

“Oh does it matter?” Jeonghan asked with an eye roll. “You said you needed a boyfriend, and Joshua volunteered. It’s perfect!” He took Joshua’s hand and led him to the couch where you were sitting on and pushed him to sit beside you. He offered a sheepish smile and left enough distance between you two to be polite.

“Well,” Jeonghan began, turning to face you. “Seungcheol’s going over to Jeonghan’s over the holiday, and my parents are out of town, so I was just planning to stay on campus for the break.”

Jeonghan coughed and gave Joshua a look that you didn’t quite understand. Joshua stuttered before adding, “But Jeonghan mentioned that you needed a boyfriend -- a fake boyfriend -- and I couldn’t leave you in need.” Joshua looked down at his hands and then back up at you. There was an unmistakable twinkle in his deep brown eyes and for a second, you let yourself get lost in the idea of what it would be like to hold his hand in the December cold. Jeonghan rolled his eyes and filled the space on the couch between the two of you.

“You two are hopeless.” He sighed, but a small smile still played on his lips. “Anyway, I’ve got it all planned out.”

He turned to you first. “Since you never told your parents what your imaginary boyfriend’s name is, and every detail you’ve fed your mom is vague as hell, you can just fill in the blanks with Joshua.”

Standing up, she pointed at Joshua. “And you, your job is just to make the parents believe that you are absolutely head over heels for their kid.”

“Easy.” Joshua said instantly and you caught him glance in your direction with a proud smile before turning back to Jeonghan. You felt your cheeks heat up as you sank further back into the couch.

“The important thing is to keep your stories straight, and remember, the most believable lies are based on truth,” Jeonghan ended. He looked down at his watch. “Alright, Seungcheol’s waiting down in the lobby, and we need to go so we don’t miss our flight.” He pulled you and Joshua in for a hug before heading to the door where his luggage was waiting. “You two have a very happy holiday. See you in the new year!”

As Joshua shut the door behind Jeonghan, you found yourself feeling the butterflies that were hidden by the adrenaline from earlier. Joshua turned to face you and gave you a comforting smile. “Look,” he began. “I just wanna be the best fake date you’ve ever had,” he joked, trying to relieve some of the tension that was very deeply etched onto your face.

“Well, you are the only fake date I’ve ever had,” you nervously laughed. Joshua chuckled and you felt yourself grin. “Thanks, Joshua, for doing this. You really don’t have to.” You looked down at your fidgeting fingers as you felt his gaze fall on you.

“I know,” he said softly. “I wanted to.” The smile he gave you was enough to make your heart do flips.

The rest of the evening was spent planning. You put on the Charlie Brown Christmas special and ordered a pizza and began discussing every detail of your fairytale love story.

You tried to think like your parents, wanting to have an answer for every single question they could ask. When was Joshua’s birthday? What was your first date like? What’s your favorite pizza topping? Where did Joshua grow up? It was like you were studying for an exam, except the longer you talked, the more you found yourself getting lost in the stories he told of growing up in Los Angeles, of his and Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s teenage shenanigans, and it was all suddenly very easy.

Three movies and a box of pepperoni pizza later, the two of you had settled onto the couch, still trying to think of any other possible stories to tell before you quickly drifted off into a tired slumber. The last thing you remember was Joshua’s voice and his arm wrapping gently around you.

When you woke up it was to the sound of your phone ringing. You sat up to find yourself wrapped in a blanket with your head propped up on a pillow. You scanned around the living room as you recalled the events of last night and found no trace of the empty pizza box and paper plates or the mugs of hot chocolate you and Joshua went through last night. Warmth rose to your cheeks when you finally remembered that you fell asleep on him, and fell into a small panic when you realized it was him calling.

“Hello?” You answered with a yawn.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Joshua answered. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

You smiled into the phone. “Yes, I did. Thank you for cleaning up, you didn’t have to --”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, I didn’t mind.” Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart as if it was the most natural thing to do. “Sorry, we never discussed nicknames, but it just came out,” he quickly added. “I just picked up some coffee, and I’ll be there in 15 to help you pack or anything before we go.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a bit,” you hung up. You got yourself ready and answered the door for Joshua. He handed you your coffee, just the way you like it and you smiled as the scent hit your nose.

Once you had everything packed, Joshua grabbed your bag and the two of you made your way to his car and drove to your hometown. The drive was a few hours long, but Joshua had a solid playlist full of karaoke songs that you loved, and the drive felt like it was not long enough.

Once you arrived at your childhood street, Joshua parked the car and opened the door for you to let you out. You noticed your hands getting more and more jittery as you walked up the front steps. The wreath on your parents’ door filled you with a sense of nostalgia. Or maybe it was nervousness? Butterflies? Whatever it was, the feeling settled heavily in your stomach as you rang the bell. You looked up at Joshua, whose scarf was bundled tight around his neck, and his nose red from the cold, and he gave you an encouraging smile. “You ready?” he asked.

Before you could answer, the door swung open and you and Joshua were enveloped in a tight embrace as your mother squealed in joy. The holidays had begun, and there was no backing out now.

The first few days of the trip had gone by without a hitch, much to you and Joshua’s surprise. Your parents did their best to embarrass you with silly stories about your childhood, and while at first you were filled with dread, the lopsided smile he gave you after finding out you once dressed as a McDonald’s Happy Meal box for Halloween made it worth it. Your dad asked the hard questions, asking what Joshua’s plans for the future with you looked like and you found your hands fidgeting under the table before Joshua’s hand found yours with a squeeze and told your dad that he couldn’t see a future without you in it and you began to picture just what that future would look like.

Everything was easy with Joshua, in a way that it never was with anyone else. You’d wake up in the morning and head downstairs to find him already awake and laughing with your mom and dad with a coffee waiting for you. After dinner you knew you’d find him sitting by the fire with a book in his hands. As you walked around town you’d spot things in the windows, little tchotchkes that made you think of him. Josh was growing roots in your family home and it was as if he was always meant to be there, another picture in the family scrapbook, another stocking hung on the fireplace.

Sweetheart became more common. And soon, so did darling and honey. They began to bleed into the quiet moments when you were alone, where you weren’t supposed to be pretending anymore. The soft smiles, the way his hand reached for yours without a single glance, the warmth of his arms wrapped around you. All of a sudden it didn’t feel like you were playing pretend anymore and you wondered if he noticed it too.

It was when you realized how easy it was to be with him that you realized how hard it would be to let him go. The thought of an inevitable end to your not-so-fake-anymore relationship weighed upon you like a blanket of snow, cold enough to snap you out of your fantasy. You were sitting by the tree with Joshua the night of Christmas Eve, wrapping some last minute gifts for your family when you felt it.

The end was coming.

Joshua must have felt it too, or at least felt something was off, because he reached for your hand almost instinctively, as if he could feel how far away you were despite the way your legs bumped against his. You hesitated before slipping your hand in his and when you looked up, you met his eyes. Just over a week ago, his eyes were just brown. But now, you realized, there was a golden sunset hiding in the hues of his eyes, like the sun was setting behind his irises, and an ever-present warmth to go with it. In this moment, there was concern mixed into the golds and browns, and your stomach lurched in a desire to forget your realization, to relax back into the rhythm and rightness of pretend, but Joshua deserved more than a fake relationship and you owed it to him to let him go so he could find it.

“Sweetheart,” he began. “What’s wrong?” The plea in his voice made it obvious that he suspected what was wrong. He was only asking to give you a chance to tell him that his suspicions were wrong. A last chance to abort and keep the charade going.

Pulling your hand out of his was the hardest thing you’ve had to do, and the instant chill on your skin where his calloused hand was touching was impossible to ignore. “This,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes. “Joshua, we can’t keep pretending like this… not when I have real feelings for you.” You finally looked up at him and kept going. You wouldn’t be able to finish if he interrupted, and you needed to be heard. “I can’t tie you down to a fake relationship, when you deserve to be with someone you actually are in love with. You’re an amazing friend for even agreeing to do this, but I don’t want to force you to be part of a mess that I put myself into.” You stood up, and finally added, “You can go home tonight. I’ll tell my parents the truth in the morning. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Hold on, I--” you interrupted him with a final, lingering kiss, hoping that the memory of it would be enough for you. You felt the hesitation in his fingers as he reached up to cup your face, an attempt to keep you where you were, to keep you with him, before you pulled away.

Without looking back, you turned around and walked up the stairs, trying to convince the tremble in your fingers and the pounding in your heart that you made the right choice.

The next morning you woke up and for a few seconds, you laid in peace until the regrets of last night flooded over you. You dragged yourself up off your bed, trying to cheer yourself up by remembering that it was Christmas. Part of you hoped that you would see him downstairs, talking to your mom about her favorite cookie recipe, but when you walked into the kitchen and found your mom by herself, you knew he was really gone.

“Hey honey,” your mom exclaimed, wrapping you in a tight hug that suggested she knew something was wrong. “Merry Christmas” she said into your hair. After a moment, she finally let go and the tears that were threatening to spill over finally gave way and your mom reached out to brush them away. She pulled you back into her arms, and once you managed to steady your breathing, the two of you sat down.

“I heard you and Joshua talking last night,” she admitted. You let out a strangled sob and your mom reached out to rub your back. “Honey, you could have just told me the truth. I love you, and you don’t need a relationship to validate that.” She gave you a small smile. “But when I saw the way you looked at each other, well I have to admit, it was nice to know someone would be there to keep loving you even when I’m not there.”

You set your head down against the table. “Well too bad Joshua was only pretending to love me,” you sighed. “He deserves to love someone for real. I couldn’t hold him back from that. It was unfair.”

“Pretending?” She asked incredulously. “Sweetie, listen to me. That sweet boy was head over heels for you, and anyone could see it. The way he looked at you everytime you laughed, and every time he walked in a room and he always looked for you first, no one could fake being in love the way he clearly is with you.”

Finally lifting your head up, you wiped your tears with your sleeve. Maybe those moments you thought you were imagining were really there. Maybe he wasn’t pretending. Maybe you were an idiot for walking away from him last night. You stood up, ready to find him and apologize.

Feeling a rush of frenzy and determination, you ran upstairs to grab your keys and your coat, ready to ask your mom to drive you back to school so you can find him. Your heart was pounding in your ears and as you turned the knob to open your front door, you found yourself staring into a pair of warm brown eyes.

“Joshua?” your voice came out in a whisper. His hand was frozen mid-air, about to press the doorbell.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry, were you heading out?” he asked.

You snapped yourself out of the trance you were lost in. “Uh Y-yeah, I was on my way to see you, actually,” you admitted. You stepped out of the doorway to let him in and you both stood in the kitchen. He set the bag he was holding on the counter and he opened the box.

“Donut? The only donut shop open was like 30 minutes away,” he offered, smiling as if you didn’t just try to break his heart last night. He handed you one, a chocolate with sprinkles, your favorite, before pulling out one for himself and taking a bite. He motioned for you to sit with him and you followed. “Listen, I--”

“Joshua, I’m --” you both started at the same time. “You go first,” you allowed, letting a soft chuckle escape your lips.

He nodded before continuing. “I know last night, you asked me to leave, but I couldn’t. At least not without telling you how I feel. You told me that you had real feelings for me, and I do too. In fact, I’ve had real feelings for you. Long before these last two weeks. When Jeonghan texted me that night, I knew I finally had the perfect opportunity to tell you how I felt, but when we got here, everything just felt so… so real, and I let myself forget that it wasn’t. No matter how much I wanted it to be.”

You set down your donut, suddenly feeling that hunger was the least important thing you were feeling at this moment. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply nodded as he continued.

“I should’ve told you a long time ago, that I really, really, really, like you. None of this has been pretend for me.” He looked into your eyes, pleading, as he tentatively reached for your hand. “I want to do this the right way, no games, no schemes, just you and me. The real thing.”

The warmth in his eyes filled you with hope and peace, and the depth that disappeared behind his eyelids were the last thing you noticed before you felt your lips fall onto his. His hand reached up and you felt the pad of his thumb brush against your cheek. Gently, as though any more pressure and you would crumble like snow in his hands. When you could no longer fight the need to breathe, you pulled away with a sigh, Joshua’s lips chasing after yours.

“Merry Christmas,” you breathed out against him.

“Merry Christmas.”

taglist: @yksthings

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

drabble idea for bounded by a ring. or more like a part two i suppose of how jungkook courts oc

Hello anon, the courting matter is going to be developed deeper in further chapters, in the meantime here is a small drabble, I hope you will like it!

Warnings: one curse word, this is pure fluff guys, a bit of comedy and again, fluff.

It all started when Jungkook began getting home from work earlier that you noticed the difference in his behaviour. His smiles were becoming more frequent, lingering yet innocent touches graced your skin more than before.

And you didn't know why. Not that you were complaining, you adored his smile and the soft contact between your skin and his made butterflies to wildly fly in your stomach, resulting in you trying to suppress a blush more times than you could count.

Today was no different, with Jungkook leaving for work as usual but this time, he did something that left you so stunned that you stayed rooted on the ground for ten minutes after he had exited the flat.

For he had kissed your cheek before stepping out of the door. If you had been paying more attention you would have noticed the blush paint on his cheeks while he closed the door behind him.

His lips had touched your skin, something that had only happened on your wedding day. The action was to never to repeat itself, or that was what you thought considering the type of relationship you held with your husband.

But the surprises of that day didn't finish with his delicate kiss on your cheek. You sat on the couch, fingers typing furiously on the keyboard of your laptop as you were determined to finish the chapter of your new book today.

Then you heard it; someone was calling you. The sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table snapped you out of your train of inspiration. You couldn't help the sigh that escaped your lips, thinking that perhaps it was your editor or someone from the marketing team. You put the laptop aside and stretched forwards, grasping your phone in your hand.

A smile graced your lips when you read the I.D. displayed on the screen. It was Jungkook. Without wasting another second, you answered his call.

"Hello?"

A couple of seconds passed in silence before you heard his deep voice from the other end.

"Hi, (y/n). What are you doing?"

You blinked a couple of times at the suddenness of his question, of his call.

"I'm... I'm writing, well was writing. Do you need something? Are you alright?"

You heard the shuffling of some papers in the background but you paid it no mind as he answered.

"That's great, I can't wait for the release of your new book."

Jungkook said, your frowned at his strange attitude but your heart fluttered at his words.

"Listen, (y/n), I wanted to... how do I say this? Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight? I know a good restaurant that you will love."

You froze at his question. You could count with your fingers the times you had had dinner with Jungkook, again one of those times had been on your wedding day.

"W-why?"

You wanted to smack your head with the wall after that word escaped your lips before you could stop it. Little did you know, your silence was killing Jungkook from inside yet your small response caused him to suppress a chuckle.

"Because you are my wife and I want to have dinner with you. Is that so wrong for me to ask?"

You shook your head before remembering he couldn't see you.

"No, I never said it was wrong. It just caught me off-guard."

A moment or two passed in silence. You swallowed, not knowing what else to say. Your cheeks were as red as a tomato, you were going to need to take a cold shower after this.

"So... is that a yes, then?"

Your teeth nibbled at your bottom lip, glancing at the clock hanging over the large TV.

"Yes, let's have dinner."

Jungkook couldn't help the smile that grew on his face, full teeth on display. He wore that smile you found adorable on him, the one his friends like to tease him saying he had a "bunny smile".

"Okay then, I'll pick you up at 7:00. Pamper yourself but don't dress too formal. It is a casual dinner."

You nodded while agreeing with him with words.

"Alright."

"See you later, (y/n)."

"See you later, Jungkook."

He let out a soft chuckle at you mirroring his words before he hung up, unaware of how you smiled to yourself in the living room of your shared apartment.

"I'm gonna guess she agreed to dine with you according to your smile."

Jungkook was snapped from his thoughts as his mind remembered the call he just had with you. His eyes fixed on Namjoon's voice as he stood in front of his desk, Jimin was by his side as he held some sheets of paper with the planned conversation for Jungkook to read while he talked to you.

"Yes, hyung. She said yes."

The younger man stood up, picking up some papers before walking towards the exit of his office.

"I have to deliver this to Jin-hyung, I have to pick (y/n) up at 7:00."

And with that, he was out of the door.

"He really likes her."

Stated Namjoon. His gaze was fond of his younger friend who was already progressing in his married life.

"Yes, he does, hyung. Our Jungkookie is already grown up."

Jimin expressed with a tinge of nostalgia in his sweet voice, piling some papers on Jungkook's desk for he knew the younger one was going to be too distracted thinking about your date to pay any mind to the mess in his desk.

But both Jimin and Namjoon couldn't feel prouder for Jungkook. It was a step only he could take but his friends were going to be by his side forever, always supporting him.

"Of course he is grown up, Jimin-ah. It's up to us to prevent him from fucking this up."

Drabbles for The Handsome Husband Series are open!

I do not own the gif.

Sept/03/2023

[hellsfirekeepsyouwarm]

hi! I just saw your requests are open and I love your writing and was wondering if you can do something with either ghost or gaz where reader is going to school for their masters in communications while working with the 141 and asks them to read their thesis but instead ghost/gaz makes them take a break/go to bed or something? I've been reworking my thesis from this last semester and I'm losing my mind lol....keep up the amazing writing and thank you so much love!

Here To Serve

Hello love! Thanks for coming my way with this ask because i just needed an excuse to write for Gaz. :D Be prepared to be fall in love with this man, i did. I tried to keep it simple, i hope you'll like it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Summary: Gaz finds you glued to you computer, tired an worn out and he takes the matter in his hands.

Uh-oh. It slips out of Kyle's mouth when he stops in front of his flat. He hears the last notes of Rihanna's Umbrella song before some classical takes over, even louder. He can't hear his own keys jingle opening the door, he can hear every instrument from the blasting music, ears already ringing. He can't prepare himself for the sight hat he's about to see.

You are just a small figure on the sofa, completely buried in papers, books and sharpies. And he can't help but chuckle at how lost you look, a manic expression on your troubled face, furiously typing on the keyboard. He's sure if you see him standing there, a smile on his face while you are on the edge of going crazy, you'll bite his head of for being so insensitive. He would watch you longer if the damn music wouldn't rip his brain out.

The room is a mess, and he finds the speaker under another pile of scratched out paper. He just lowers the volume, your head snaps up immediately at the loss of the stimulating background noise.

You look honestly horrifying.

"Oh no. You are home early." You smile, sheepish, almost embarrassed. Your eyes are glossy, makeup smudged over your cheek, messy hair peeking out of his grey hoodie that you are wearing.

You sudden surprise to see him sooner than you thought is quick to dissolve, you start rambling when Gaz sends you that scolding gaze. "Okay, so i had an idea. But that turned out worse than the previous one. So i had to rewrite half of it. But then i realized i may or ma no the original one better, so i..."

"Love.." Gaz puts down the Mexican food he got on his way home, finding his way to you over books and random stuff he wouldn't think about using while preparing for a thesis. Crouching next to you, a soft look easing the tension in your shoulders. "We talked about this."

"But i done it. Seriously." You turn your laptop towards him, to show a folder that was there weeks ago, perfect and ready. "I just need you to read it and tell me what's wrong with it."

Gaz shakes his head with a faint smile. "Oh no, no more of that nonsense. Give it to me."

With that, the computer is out of your reach, his skillful hands stealing it from your iron grip you had on it for hours now. You just now feel your sweaty palms, and an aching back and neck. "No, Kyle, please. I gotta double check if it's okay now."

"You will not do such thing tonight, and if it's up to me, ever." He take the laptop to the other end of the room, saving the folder beforeshutting it down. You want to protest more, but honestly your body is like stone, rooted on the same spot where you sat down in the early afternoon.

He's wearing casual clothes, one of your favorite jacket, that dark brown leather one, his skin is glowing from the wetness of the rain, cologne leaving a scent trail behind. You missed him so much.

You sigh, defeated, you know he won't let you touch anything that is related to your studies.

He walks back to you, your tired eyes searching for comfort in his gaze that he's more than happy to offer with a quick peck on your lips when gets back to you. He brushes the hair out of your face, soft fingertips caressing your skin. He doesn't linger too long, turning to the bag he placed on table, probably finding the only free space on it.

"Hey, where are you going?" You pout, unhappy about his absence in your personal space. He has that calming effect on you, and the loss of it makes your brain tick, circling back to your thesis.

"Uh-uh, do not think about it! I brought food, just gon' grab soda from the fridge and we can dug in, copy?" You nod, starting to arrange the books on the table, pushing everything in a big unstable pile in the middle.

He returns quickly, flashing a wide smile, eyes sparkling with love. You watch him fish out the food from the takeaway bag, the smell of Mexican food hitting your nose. He places mystery food bags in front of, making you wonder what deliciousness is inside them. "There you go, love."

You dive in together, eating in silence, a soft piano and violin duo making some background noise, occasionally letting out some huffs and satisfied hums.

You both watch the other in secret, laughing like teenagers when catching a glimpse of the other staring. Times like this you remember how young you both are, despite the lifes you live. On the field, his youthfulness presents itself as strength in body and mind, in quick reflexes and sharp ideas. At home, he is just a guy, feeding his significant other, making sure they are well rested and cared for. He's an idiot in love.

You inhaled you food while he eats comfortably, no rush in it. So you just memorize this moment, him eating in complete piece, enjoying the flavors, shutting his eyes for a seconds longer, maybe the taste is better that way. You are in awe of how full of life he is, and you would be the happiest person on this earth to keep watching him.

He opens his eyes, the last bite gone too. "Wha?" He's bushing, his accent popping off with the question.

"Nothing." You hold up both your hands, or rather the arms of the hoodie that swallowed your limbs.

Breath caught in his throat every time he sees you in his clothes. Yeah, you wore it ten minutes ago too, when he arrived home, but as your face beams like the rays of sunshine, a stupid smile plastered on your perfect lips, your body hiding under his own clothing, he feels like he's in heaven. His scent hugging your skin, the thought that you are so cozy in his clothes is just intoxicating. Makes his heart skip a beat.

"Come 'ere." That voice, raspy like in the mornings, when hes turned on, or when his emotions strike him at once. He pulls you close to his side, arm hugging you close, securing your body next to his. You snake your limbs over his body, leg hooked in his, arm grabbing his shirt for support.

When you settle, he sighs into your hair, planting small kisses on the crown of your head.

"Thanks for the dinner." You smile, turning our face upwards to meet with his gaze. "And for the distraction."

"Anytime, love. Here to serve." His cheeky smile makes you giggle, oh how madly in love you are with him.

"Hmmm... Well in that case, where the hell is the dessert soldier?" You ask, not able to hide your smile.

"Your dessert is right here, darling." He point at himself, utterly proud of his answer.

You laugh into his mouth, closing that already small distance between your lips, sharing a longing kiss. A kiss you yearn all day.

You break the kiss, trying to be as serious as you can. "But you brought dessert, right?"

He laughs, head thrown back, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Yeah, i brought dessert."

He kisses you with fiery eyes, tenderly, lovingly, the softest way a man is capable of. That dessert might have to wait a little more.

[ahlovelightaflame]

Getting Matched ~ *Wen Junhui*

Summary: Joshua hates Junhui. He hates how Jun threw him together with his girlfriend and is constantly teasing him for it. So, in order to get his revenge, he enlists the help of Minghao to make it work. Soon, he has the perfect plan, but a certain someone doesn’t want his sister to have anything to do with this plan.

Pairing: Wen Junhui X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Oneshot

Word Count: 2964

Warning: Some swearing and a couple mentions of violence at the end. Also Joshua’s a bit of an ass in the beginning.

Mafia Masterlist

“God, I hate Wen Junhui.” Joshua sneered, throwing a dart at the dart board hanging on his door. Of course, the dart board had a picture of Wen Junhui’s face on it, and there were a dozen darts hitting perfect bullseyes on his eyes, nose, and mouth. Joshua was an excellent shot when it came to darts, even when drunk. Though he wasn’t drunk at the moment, he wished he was.

“And why do you hate Wen Junhui so much?” A disinterested Minghao asked as he typed furiously on his keyboard, trying to decipher a cryptic message his paramore had sent him half an hour prior. At this point in time, he was about halfway done and had already done what most would consider two weeks worth of research trying to crack the code.

“Answer me this,” Joshua stood up to retrieve the darts on the board. “Why are you in my room doing all this techno crap. You have your own room, you know.”

Minghao spared the briefest of glances to glare at him before returning to his screen. “I can’t think in there. My room is for work. This message has nothing to do with work and if I sully the atmosphere of my workroom with stupid, childish, ridiculous little love letters that make me sick, I won’t be able to work anywhere.”

Joshua scoffed, muttering under his breath. “Wow and I thought I had problems.”

“And what exactly are those problems?” Minghao asked again.

“Why do you care? I thought you were preoccupied answering your lover’s letter.”

Again, he made a face, but didn’t comment on that. “I care because for the past two to three weeks you’ve been muttering and seething about Jun for some God forsaken reason. It’s starting to get annoying, so just spit it out already.”

With a slight growl, he answered Minghao. “Fine, you want to know? It’s because of Jun that my girlfriend is in serious trouble with the law now. It’s because of her affiliation with me that she has become a dirty cop and I know she hates it more than anything else in the world. I know because she’s asked me a couple of times now to quit the mafia, but I’m not giving up all of this. So we’re trying to get her transferred, where my affiliation with her won’t affect her job.”

“Wow and I thought I had problems.” Minghao snickered before getting smacked upside the head. With a grimace, he snapped, “It’s not my fault you fell in love with a cop! I mean Seungcheol chewed you out for a week because of that, afraid you were going to betray all of us.”

“I would never betray the family.” Joshua replied, deathly serious. “But I digress. I wouldn’t have fallen for a cop if it wasn’t for that stupid Wen Junhui.”

Minghao heaved a frustrated sigh, practically slamming his hands on the keyboard. “Damn you Infinite, you sneaky little bastard.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Joshua asked, resting his arms on his chair behind his friend’s head.

He snarled, “Shut your damn mouth if you know what’s good for you. Besides, if you’re so mad at Jun, just give him a taste of his own medicine. Set him up with a girl and watch him go soft.”

Joshua was about to interject and say how stupid that idea was, when he paused to really consider it. Honestly, Minghao had a point there. Jun was constantly making jokes about how he went soft for his girlfriend and eventually made her a dirty cop. Perhaps if he could find a girl that made him just as crazy as Jun claimed he was, then maybe he’d get the teasing to stop and some blackmail for future purposes.

“That’s not a bad idea, Hao. Thanks for that.” He clapped his friend on the back.

Minghao smirked. “I know, right? Honestly I should be the leader of Seventeen, or at least the Right Hand Man. Not Seungcheol, especially since he got the boss knocked up.”

“No way. Did he really?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. It’s just rumors at the moment, but after I decipher this message, I’m going to hack into every hospital database in this town and see if there are any pregnancy confirmations that would match our boss.”

“Keep me updated then.” Joshua replied. “But right now, I really need you to do a huge favor for me.”

With another long and dramatic sigh, Minghao turned in the office chair before glaring at Joshua. “And what is it that you want from me?”

“I need you to hook up a monitor in my room that gives me live feed of Jun’s store. Think you can do that?” He asked.

Minghao started to sputter. “Wha-pa-ca, what do you take me for? An amateur? Hell no. I can get that thing set up faster than you can say Junhui and Infinite are assholes.”

“Thank you, thank you.” He nodded as Minghao instantly got to work.

Switching to Joshua’s personal computer instead of the laptop that he was working on earlier, Minghao started to work his technical genius. Joshua watched him work, though he had no idea what he was actually doing. He wasn’t as tech savvy as Minghao was, which is probably why the Boss still kept him around.

It took him barely twenty minutes for there to be a working “security camera” within Junhui’s store. Joshua grinned evilly as he rubbed his hands together maniacally. Already his plan was being put into place and he couldn’t help but feel giddy with the thought of it.

“So what do you plan on doing with this?” Minghao asked, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“My plan is very simple,” Joshua explained, taking the desk chair that Minghao had pushed away earlier. “The first girl who enters that antique store is going to be who I get Junhui to date. No matter how crazy or annoying the girl is, she will be his girlfriend if it’s the last thing I do. That’ll make him regret setting me up with my girlfriend.”

“But don’t you-” He sighed. “Nevermind, forget it.”

Cracking his knuckles, Joshua’s grin only grinned. “Now we play the wait-”

The door opened and a girl entered the store.

Minghao snorted. “Well that was easy.”

Joshua frowned, leaning in closer to the monitor. “Wait a second. No, that can’t be. Hao, can you zoom in?”

Nodding, he zoomed the computer in to get a better look at the girl’s side profile as she handed Junhui a coffee cup. Not only did the label on the cup look familiar, but the girl did too. Both boy’s eyes widened with shock when they put two and two together.

“Is that…” Minghao trailed off.

In an instant, Joshua busted up laughing. “OH MY GOD! YES! YES, THIS IS PERFECT! OH MY GOD THIS COULDN’T BE ANYMORE PERFECT!”

There was a loud knock on Joshua’s door. Vernon frowned at them before folding his arms over the front of his chest. “Would you two keep it down in here? Some of us are trying to get some sleep.”

“Aw, is the poor baby trying to take a nap?” Minghao cooed in a baby voice, making Vernon scoff and cross the hall to slam the door. He tsked, shaking his head. “Jeez. Teenagers these days.”

“Watch it.” Joshua lightly reprimanded. “He’s about to get a whole lot madder after this. But I have to go see her. She has a date with destiny to get ready for.”

“Wait, before you do, look at Jun.” Minghao pointed to the screen.

If there was one thing Junhui couldn’t do, it was being subtle in front of his crush. Even on the crappy security cam, it was clear as day that he was trying to act cool and professional in front of her, but it wasn’t playing out right. However, it appeared as if she was just as oblivious as him, as she made no intention of comprehending the poor attempt at showing off Junhui just pulled. However, if she had any indication of interest towards him, she didn’t show it. She was as cool as a cucumber through the whole exchange that impressed both boys. Well, the plan wasn’t going to be that perfect after all, since it seemed Junhui was clearly interested in her, but Joshua was still determined to throw these two together even if it killed him, although the Boss wouldn’t be too happy about that.

“Have fun you two.” Minghao waggled his eyebrows as Joshua flipped him off. “And make sure your GIRLFRIEND doesn’t catch you with another woman. She still is a cop and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind locking you up in holding if she found you flirting with a soon-to-be another man’s woman.”

Joshua rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

And with that, he raced down the hall and out the mansion’s front door before getting into his sports car. His injuries from that botched job had scared the Boss enough to take his rights away from owning a motorcycle like Minghao, but was given all the money he needed to buy the best sports car and customize it how he wanted. Sure he missed his bike, but his new car was pretty sweet and she sure purred like a kitten.

It didn’t take him long to reach the Chewy Cafe. Vernon’s family owned and operated it and has been a great help whenever the gang wanted to meet up casually. The Chwe’s knew of their son’s illegal exploits, but they pretended like they didn’t, similarly to how Joshua’s girlfriend acted when it came to the police force. A twinge of guilt pinched at his stomach, but he ignored it. He was here on a mission that he was determined to see through.

The door opened and a little bell signaled his arrival. He was thankful the place was mostly empty and it was Vernon’s mother who saw him first as she was wiping down the counter.

She frowned. “I thought he was with you?”

He nodded quickly, knowing how much she worried for her son. “He is. He’s taking a nap. Actually, I’m here to speak with Y/n, if you don’t mind?”

Pursing her lips, she asked. “May I know why?”

Joshua chose his next words carefully. “I heard she has a crush on someone and I wanted to help her out. Vernon says that if she won’t listen to him, she’ll listen to me.”

It wasn’t a lie. Joshua was the closest in the whole gang to the Chwe family, probably because the two families weren’t originally from this town. Both the Hong and Chwe family came from cities before settling in this small town. Because of their connections to bright lights and copious amounts of traffic, the two families get along swimmingly. To this day, Joshua’s parents still like to invite the Chwe’s to Sunday dinner if they can make it and Joshua’s mother’s jewelry store was right next door to the cafe.

Vernon’s mother nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. “Yes, of course. She’s in the back on her break, which will be done in about half an hour anyways. I’ll go get her for you. Thank you, Joshie.”

Ah the affectionate nickname that came with family friends. He nodded before settling in one of the corner booths that was usually saved for the gang when they needed it. He didn’t have to wait long before Y/n came storming up to him with bright red cheeks.

“What did you tell my mother?” She demanded.

Joshua gave her a shit eating grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She smacked him hard on the shoulder, making him slightly wince. It was the Boss’s idea to teach her basic and advanced self-defense and her parents weren’t opposed. This meant she had a stronger arm than a lot of the newbies they trained for combat.

“Don’t lie to me, Hong.” She snapped. “My mother said you were going to help me out with a crush. Now tell me why she would say a thing like that?”

“How should I know? I’m not your mother.” She raised her arm to punch him, making him put up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, yield! Look, I may or may not have found out about your little crush and I wanted to help you out.”

She slumped in her seat. “First, how did you find out?”

“A little 8 told me.” His Cheshire grin returned to his face.

“Minghao.” She spat. “That little rat knows everything.”

“Easy there.” Joshua sighed. “It wasn’t entirely his fault. I found out because I needed to plan revenge on Junhui for setting me up with my girlfriend.”

She looked at him like he had just grown a head. “But I thought you loved her?”

Joshua’s cheeks flamed red for a brief second before he waved her question away. “That’s besides the point. The point is, you like Junhui and he needs a girlfriend. So march that booty of yours to his antique store and ask him out already.”

It was her turn for her cheeks to burn bright red. “And why would I want to do that? It’s not like he even notices me. I mean, I’m sure he flirts with all the girls. He seems like that kind of person.”

Joshua scowled. “Look, yes, he is a flirt, but he’s not a good one when it comes to someone he actually likes. So if he’s dropped any really, and I mean really, cheesy pick up lines, that means he likes you.”

There was a brief pause as she began to think back before her blush doubled in size and color. “I mean, he has delivered some really bad ones and then tried to take them back, but I found them cute. Is that what you mean by really, and I mean really, cheesy pick up lines?”

He nodded. “That is exactly what I mean.”

She nodded slowly, as if trying to still wrap her mind around what was going on. “So he really does like me back, huh? You’re not playing some sick game on me, are you, Hong?”

Taking her hand gently, he became deadly serious, which is what most people never want to see in their lives. “Y/n, I’ve known you since we were kids. I would never, ever, ever, ever play a joke on you like this. It was originally my intention to have you date once just for the heck of it and for Jun to stop teasing me, but seeing how much you genuinely seem to like him, I’ll make sure you two are together forever.”

“You’d really do that for me?”

“You’re like my sister. Of course I would.” He nodded with a tender smile.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded before standing up and heading for the front door. “MA! I’M GOING TO GO ASK A BOY OUT!”

“TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT WHEN YOU GET BACK, DEAR!” Her mother answered from the kitchen.

Joshua followed her out before directing her to his sports car. After she made the obligatory remark about how cool it was, she got in and they were off. He spent the whole ride there calming her nerves and telling her exactly what she should say to get him to agree, although he was pretty sure all of that information went in one ear and out the other.

“…And then she marched right into that store, grabbed Junhui by the face, and basically kissed the living daylights out of him.” Joshua explained, leaning back in his chair in the dining room of the mansion. Before him was the Kids team, otherwise known as the support team for the gang. Minghao was typing feverishly at his laptop, Wonwoo was also reclined in his dining room chair, and Woozi was pouring over work documents.

“So that’s why Junhui looked so happy this evening.” Wonwoo mused, picking at his nails with one of his throwing knives. It was his favorite time of the day when he could have his knives back in his hands, so everyone knew not to ask him to stop doing that, lest he rip his finger apart. Besides, he was good with knives, otherwise he wouldn’t have them.

“Yes, indeed.” Joshua sighed, content with how today went. “And that is also how I got him to stop teasing me about my girlfriend. Did you know he actually thanked me when Y/n told him that it was my idea she confessed? It must have been like pulling teeth for him, but he did it. Yes sir, it was a good day indeed.”

“And did you tell Vernon?” Woozi commented, not even looking up from his work.

Joshua paused. “Tell him what?”

This made his leader look up at him, unamused. “Did you tell Vernon that Junhui is now dating his older sister?”

“He already knows.” A voice declared from the dining room entrance. Again, there was Vernon, seething, with his arms folded over his chest.

“Oh, hey Vernon.” Joshua gave out a sheepish chuckle.

Vernon didn’t say anything but instead walked swiftly over to him, grabbed a fist full of his hair, and slammed his head against the table. It wasn’t too hard, but he knew it was going to leave a bruise for the next couple of days. Great, just what the Boss needed to see.

“Next time you want to mess with my sister like that, you’re getting a lot more than a bruise.” And with that, he left the dining room, muttering profanities under his breath.

Everyone was staring at Joshua as he gave a weak laugh and shrugged. “It was worth it.”

[actuallysaiyan]

Ommmmg why you kill me the smut goodies. 😈 69

warnings: mild smuttiness, mentions of erection, hinted that Gohan is going into heat a/n: I hope you enjoy! The prompt used will always be in bold ;)

He’s been feeling so pent up for days. You’ve been busy with your classes and your projects. It’s almost exam week too, and your boyfriend has had it up to here with all this bullshit. Though Gohan is usually very calm, patient and composed, he has been so angry and fed up with everyone and everything lately. Maybe it’s the building stress of the final year of college coming to an end, or maybe it has to do with the growing full moon coming within the next few days. Either way, you’ve noticed a change in your sweet boyfriend’s demeanor. When he sits down with you at lunch, you’re a little surprised to find him practically grinding his teeth and slamming his tray onto the table.

“What’s wrong?” You try to coax an answer out of him, but he dismisses most of it.

You spend most of your lunchtime with your sulking boyfriend, but you know better than to push his buttons. Things don’t get any better as the next couple of days go by. It almost seems like Gohan gets even more antsier as the days tick by. The moon grows fuller, and he’s snapping at anyone and anything.

You know you need to get to the bottom of this. Something was clearly wrong with Gohan, but he wasn’t telling you what was wrong. It made you wonder if maybe somehow you had caused this sudden change in behavior. You were hoping that you hadn’t, but you had to know for sure.

One night, the night of the full moon, you go over to Gohan’s dorm room. He shares it with one other person, so you made sure to ask his roommate to give you two some privacy to talk things out together. His roommate offers up the room for the night, and you accept. The walk to his room is nerve wracking. You aren’t really sure how to ask Gohan about this situation, but you know it can’t continue like this anymore.

Gohan is quick to invite you into his room, but he’s still acting frustrated and irritated. You notice he’s trying to slyly palm at his crotch, but he’s not doing a very good job at being discreet. Your eyes are drawn to his large hand trying to conceal his boner.

“What is it? Can’t you see I’m busy trying to study?” He sits at his desk and turns on his laptop.

You sigh softly, “Gohan, I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.” You move a little closer to him, pressing your palms flat against the desk.

“Nothing,” he snaps. He begins typing furiously on the keyboard, clearly trying to make himself look busy. “Now, if that’s all, I suggest you get out of here to give me a little peace.”

You feel betrayed in a way. You know he’s horny, and you know that this is most likely why he isn’t feeling good. It’s probably why he’s being so snappy with you right now and why he has been flying off the handle with everyone and everything lately. This prompts you to keep picking at the issue.

“Just talk to me, Gohan.”

He growls, “No, I don’t want to–”

“Come on! You’re my boyfriend! Tell me what’s wrong.”

This is pushing his buttons so badly. He growls again, “Don’t you dare be a brat.”

You stomp your foot, “I’m not leaving here until you tell me what is wrong. I’m worried about you.”

This prompts Gohan to get up on his feet and he comes over to you. The look in his eyes is a hungry one and he knows that you’ll be sorry for being so disobedient soon enough. He’s going to give you one last warning because he loves you.

“I thought I told you to–”

“Gohan! I’m serious, I’m not leaving here until you tell me what is wrong!”

He’s had enough of this. He pushes you up against the wall, and with venom in his tone, he manages to spit this out at you. “If you interrupt me one more time— so help me god,” Your eyes widen at his words. Your panties are flooded with arousal. “I will show you what is exactly wrong with me. And I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

[drmflm]

—summary: a visit with the matchmaker proved you had various compatible matches, both in your four pillars and bloodlines. but funnily enough, the greatest of them all was none other than the matchmaker himself.

—pairing: jeonghan x gn!reader

—word count: 2.3k

—genre: fluff, slight angst

—au: matchmaker

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: there is one profane word used at the end, some caressing and kissing, jungkook makes a cameo lol

—prompt: a big thank you to @woozisnoots for the amazing prompts!!! check out their booth here and the rest of the fair here! (it's only open a little while longer so make sure to look around!!)

—note: i did get some inspiration from traditional and modern korean matchmaking, but kind of portrayed it in my own way? so i’m sorry for any inaccuracies u may find 😅💞

—masterlist

When you woke up in the morning, you were immersed with thoughts of loneliness. Being alone for a long time took its toll on the human body, bringing forth a craving for companionship so vast it was unquenchable.

It would have been alright, you supposed, if you were granted the peace to find companionship in your own endeavours, but alas that wasn’t how life worked. Instead, companionship found its way to you—often presenting itself in a form that simply perpetuated your loneliness further. Alas, what was companionship lest it was a filler for loneliness? A superficial replacement, an ersatz of the necessary feeling aloneness awoke… being loved and having someone were two very different concepts. Sure, people found love and companionship—tethered together and happy as can be. But for others, love wasn’t always synonymous with companionship.

This was why you hired a matchmaker.

You’d heard good things about him, Yoon Jeonghan, from your friends and acquaintances. He had a high success rate, often finding perfect matches on the first date. He was prim and proper, and exuded regality. With his wavy brown hair and ironed blazer, he made it very clear that he prioritized his job and only his job.

Hell, the first time you walked in, he said nothing to you unless it was to take in your preferences, bloodline information, and compatibility requirements. He was professional and authentic to the standards your family had set—prioritizing the compatibility of your four pillars, it was critical you found someone who aligned with you in every way.

It was perhaps the most interesting thing you had ever done. Sure, you enjoyed the single life immensely, but after a while, whether it was from societal or parental pressure as well as your own debilitating loneliness, the hunt for someone to love was underway.

You wanted to hold someone close at night, someone to talk to about anything and to have fun times with. You needed someone who wasn’t afraid of trying new things or deviating from what was considered acceptable and instead prioritizing what was right.

So maybe you had high standards, but if nobody fit the bill, you were fine with that. Because settling for someone just for the sake of calling them yours wasn’t something you would ever do. You weren’t in it for the games, and you weren’t ever going to play them with anybody else.

“This is about you,” he said clinically as he worked with your papers, pushing his lenses up his nose. “Based on what I see here, I see that you prefer masculine-presenting people, as well as those with a rebellious streak.”

You felt warm at this candid expression of your preferences, but nodded nevertheless to let him know he was correct.

At this, he hummed, assessing everything once more before typing furiously into his computer, clicking wildly before nodding his head quickly. “Alright, I’ve scheduled a date for you with a lovely fellow named ‘Jeon Jungkook’, and he seems to be compatible with you in 3 of 4 of your pillars.”

You once again nodded at this, accepting kindly and smiling as he typed something into his keyboard before giving you a smile. This time, it felt genuine.

“Well then, I wish you luck on your first date, Y/n. Since there’s still some time left, would you like to ask me any questions or update your preferences?” He asked kindly, placing your papers neatly into a folder.

You thought about it for a moment, tapping a finger against your chin, before looking at him. His eyes screamed kindness at you, even if the tone of his voice seemed antiseptic—not scaling, but rather unemotional.

So you opted to ask a question. “How’s your day been?” You asked, letting a small smile grave your face at his startled expression.

He quickly composed himself, “I am doing just fine, thank you so much for asking. But this is not about me, and I am committed to using our time to give you the best possible options and aid on finding your future life partner.”

There it was again, that professionalism which you respected and also seemed terribly condescending. You knew this wouldn’t be the last time you met with him, and you wanted to ensure that you remained cordial, friendly even.

But he had this wall up, and perhaps it was just protocol, in order to ensure people didn’t get any ideas. So you let it go. But you couldn’t deny that he was devilishly handsome, and if it was in your fate, you wished you could have matched with him.

Jeon Jungkook was very sweet. He was charismatic, and had so many beautiful facets to his personality. He also had such an attractive mischievousness to him that you adored. But he wasn’t someone you could see yourself loving for forever. He was so friendly and sweet, but there was nothing there, nothing more than just friendship.

He agreed, and it seemed you left on good terms, even if you didn’t find the love that you were craving. You had similar interests, and you enjoyed the same things, but it felt more like camaraderie than romance—which, thankfully, you both seemed to recognize.

Now that you had experienced your first match from Mr.Yoon, you realized that he was very serious about his job, and you were stunned to find out how perfect his matches suited you.

Yet, it was almost too perfect, how everything aligned. You craved something that defied the expectations of something comfortable, something perfect. Perhaps it was your reputation for wanting things outside the confines of normalcy, but you wanted something natural, something that didn’t align with everything you wanted.

And you articulated that to him. He seemed to take in these considerations thoughtfully, and before you knew it, he was already preparing your next match. Whilst he worked, he continued to ask you questions, and you in turn, carefully thought out your responses.

Still, no matter how many dates he set up for you, no matter who he found that suited your preferences, they always seemed to let you down. Your potential matches seemed glorious on paper, like they would suit you so well, but when you went to meet them, the atmosphere always felt so uncomfortable, and you hated that.

So it was to be expected that you spent a lot more time in Mr.Yoon’s office. As one of his more difficult clients, the more matches you rejected, the more determined he became to find you the love of your life.

You started having some serious conversations about what you were looking for, and after a while he became someone you could lean on and talk to. He started opening up a little too, confessing that he had yet to find someone who suited him as well, which is where his determination to help stemmed from.

The clinical, assessing nature of your relationship slowly dwindled the more and more personal you got, as well as the longer your search continued on. Yes, your parents were still impatient, but as they heard about how you went out on dates every night, eventually they began to ease the pressure off of you, actually beginning to divert your attention away from it.

It made you realize that you weren’t doing this for them. It wasn’t about fulfilling their expectations, or finding the perfect match. It wasn’t about being determined or tenacious to love. Your motives weren’t noble like that.

Instead, you just found yourself infatuated with the idea that maybe you had already found love.

When you walked in for yet another appointment with Mr.Yoon, he didn’t even bother sighing at another one of your failed dates.

“What was it this time?” He asked, and you noticed he was sporting a pleasant smile. “Not enough mischief?”

“On the contrary, he seemed too mischievous,” you sighed, slumping into the chair across from him. “I didn’t think I could trust him.”

He hummed, typing something into his computer, “okay, I totally understand. It seems you have exhausted all my resources. You’re the first one who hasn’t made it past the first date that I’ve worked with.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you just shrugged, “I don’t know why either. I guess I just have high—“

“No,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “It’s not a matter of high standards. It’s the fact that you are looking for someone specific.”

You blinked, “no, I don’t think so. I think I will know what I want when I find someone who has the qualities I like and fits what I need.” Like him.

He looked at you warmly over the rims of his glasses, before sighing tiredly, “that makes this entire process a lot more difficult.”

You laughed, “I’m sorry, but if it would help I can give you a deeper rundown on what I’m looking for.”

He perked up, “yes yes, that would be perfect.”

“I’m looking for someone who I can have deep, meaningful conversations with, someone who is comfortable to be around,” you said honestly, pleased at how attentive he was, gesturing for you to continue. “I also think it’d be nice if they wore glasses.”

You feared you were being too obvious, but he seemed to gloss over this detail, typing furiously. “Anything else?”

You shook your head, before looking at him, “Hey, what are you four pillars?”

He stared at you for a long moment, frozen in place. He assessed your face, and he must have found something there he liked, because he sighed before standing up and retrieving something from his filing cabinet.

“I don’t usually share my personal information with clients because it lacks professionalism,” he confessed, sitting back down in front of you. “But I consider you a friend now, so it seems only fair to show you this.”

He took in a deep breath, “I don’t want to make things weird, but both our bloodline and four pillars are a perfect match. Both our earth and water pillars seem to complement one another very nicely. Therefore, technically speaking, out of all the matches I’ve found for you—“ he swallowed. “I’m technically the most compatible with you as you are with me.”

You tried to understand his expression, what it was that he was feeling, but he kept his heart so hidden, that you could only nod, leaning in closer, “I guess that’s only one part of it though. Because…” you hesitated, so he gestured for you to continue, “I think it’s how they make you feel that really decides whether they are someone you want to keep by your side.”

He smiled before looking away, “Right, the thing that was missing from all the people I set you up with—“

“I’ve seemed to find it in you.” You blurted, looking away when you saw his shocked expression.

The silence was thick and uncomfortable and you felt your heart sink as he sighed that familiar sigh of finding an incompatible match.

He took his specs off his face, simply looking at you with a sad expression, as if he understood the gravity of what he was about to say.

“Y/n,” he said softly, kindly, much too kindly to bear. “I understand that we both feel strongly about one another but—“

He leaned in closer and closer, till you were face to face. He gently lifted a finger to tilt your head to the side to whisper something in your ear, “I’m sorry, but because of our professional relationship, I find it difficult to accept your confession.”

Both of you were breathing deeply, but more so you at the prospect of your heart being shattered into a million pieces.

You shivered as you felt his breath gently send tingles along your skin, you felt him grin against your skin, “but when was I ever one to ignore a perfect match?”

You froze as he gently tilted you chin towards him with his thumb and index fingers, “Y/n, I don’t know about you, but I think I found what you were missing.”

“You fucker,” you whispered before you gently brought your face forward to connect your lips to his.

At his gentle ministrations, you knew that this is what you wanted. You wanted to have soft, intimate conversations with him, you wanted to hear everything he had to say, and you wanted him to hold you like this for forever.

He was perfect.

You smiled into the kiss, perhaps bloodlines and pillars had a semblance of truth to them, after all.

Having Jeonghan meet your parents was nothing short of terrifying. But after dating for a few months, and having known one another for even longer than that, you felt it was time.

You often laughed about how the two of you started your relationship, noting how sometimes the most fulfilling love was one that wasn’t pursued, but one that gently fell into one’s arms. It was the love that you found serendipitously.

And as the two of you walked up the stone pathway to your parents’ countryside home in the provinces, your intertwined hands swung with the promise of something to last for a very, very long time.

© 2022 svt1117 . all rights reserved.

[invisibleraven]

Unable to sleep due to Thoughts™ and Rulie?

The music died out and everyone beamed in the garage. "Alright, I think we killed that one!" Luke exclaimed as he swung his guitar around. "I think it's ready for our next gig!"

"Does that mean we can call practice? I'm beat," Julie said, stepping away from her keyboard.

"I suppose so, can't have you strain your voice," Luke conceded, ducking as Julie tossed a wadded up ball of paper at him.

"Alright get out all of you, safe travels home," Julie said.

"I'll walk you up to the house," Reggie offered, waving as Alex and Luke took off.

"You don't need to," Julie said.

"I don't mind, plus I left my bag there after school since we were working on that math assignment," Reggie replied.

"Ugh don't remind me," Julie groaned. "Algebra is going to be the death of me I swear."

"You know I'll help if you want," Reggie offered. "You helped me pass Spanish last semester, it's the least I can do."

"As long as you know what you're getting into," Julie replied, opening the door and letting him grab his bag from the dining room. "You want anything before you head off?"

"Nah, I know you're tired, I'll get out of your hair and see you for homeroom," Reggie said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "Night Julie!"

Julie touched the place his lips had graced, waving as Reggie took off on his bike. Waltzing up the stairs in a daze and robotically getting herself ready for bed.

Carlos was already asleep, but she poked her head in to wish her dad a good night, though it was half hearted and automatic. Her head was still swimming with thoughts of the kiss Reggie had given her.

Reggie was no stranger to being affectionate, none of the guys were. And this wasn't even the first kiss Julie had received from any of them. But for some reason, this seemed different. Maybe because of the way it lingered, or the walk to the house beforehand.

Julie slid herself into bed, and flicked off her light, settling in for the night. However even when she closed her eyes she couldn't seem to find any rest. She felt bone tired, but her mind kept racing back to that kiss. What would have happened if she had turned her head and made their lips meet? Did she want that? Would Reggie?

If they did kiss, would they startle back and laugh about it afterwards? Or deepen it and lose themselves in a passionate embrace? Would things become awkward afterwards and ruin their friendship or would it be a love for the ages?

Julie was used to thoughts about kisses, sometimes even from her friends, her face still flamed when she remembered her ill advised crush on Luke before he came out as aromantic. Plus there was the whole situation with Nick that was best left forgotten. But she wasn't used to thinking of Reggie that way.

Yet... Reggie was extremely good looking, a sweetheart to his core, talented, smart in his own right, and an all around peach of a guy. Any girl would be lucky to land him.

Julie huffed and turned over, wondering where all these thoughts were coming from. But no matter how she twisted and turned, they kept coming, fantasies of how she and Reggie would be together.

"Oh no," she groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. "Stupid heart."

She groped to the side, pulling out her phone, and saw the hour, groaning. Wondering if Flynn would still be awake, and figured she might be, given her night owl like nature.

Julie: I think I have a crush on Reggie

Flynn: FINALLY!

Julie squawked, typing furiously, asking Flynn what she meant by that.

Flynn: Girl, it's so obvious. And his crush on you is visible from space. So woman up and do something about it!

Julie tossed her phone aside at that. Was Flynn right? Was it obvious to everyone but her that she liked Reggie? And apparently he liked her back? She turned over once more, looking at her nightstand. Where there was a picture of the band, with Reggie's arm around her, and a smile on his face as he looked at her. A smile that was mirrored on her own face as she gazed at him.

Oh.

Julie blew out a breath, wondering if maybe, just maybe she had been blind this whole time. And resolved that maybe tomorrow she should do something about it.

With that she finally found her eyes growing heavy, and drifted off, her dreams filled with green eyes, and a crooked grin, and smiled in her sleep despite herself.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-In-Progress Wednesday

Hello friends and fellow Hellsite users. I'm back typing away furiously at my keyboard in order to bring you...something. ;) What exactly is it? A hot mess. When will you get it? Friday. For now, enjoy some Galmar with vague mentions of our two idiots.

I was tagged by the always beautiful and talented @tallmatcha and @oblivions-dawn. I would like to shake the following for treats: @paraparadigm @mareenavee @rainpebble3 @blossom-adventures @dirty-bosmer @rose-like-the-phoenix @sneaksandsweets As always, no pressure, but I would love to see what you're working on. <3

All the while Elisif circles about the room, Galmar watches her carefully, not missing for one second that she makes her way to talk to several of the Stormcloak-backed Jarls. What could she possibly have to say to them? A frown pulls at his lips as he scratches at his beard. He ponders the question as he stands at Ulfric and Dahlia’s back.

They have both been involved in a conversation with Skald which seems to be going nowhere; however, neither of them have been able to gracefully extricate themselves from the situation else they risk offending one of their most staunch supporters. Even if there is no added benefit for them.

If it were up to Galmar, he would have sent Skald packing a good 20 minutes ago and told him to get lost. Maybe that is why he is not Jarl and Ulfric is. His lips twitch at the thought—delivering swift and hard judgement with the blunt decisiveness of the end of his battleaxe. Patience is not one of his virtues, and he does not dance to the tune of the delicate intricacies of politics.

On one hand, he has to respect Dahlia for having kept her composure during this whole ordeal thus far. It tells him a lot about her character. Over the years, he has seen more than enough people try to dip their toes into the snake pit of Skyrim’s politics only to have them come out significantly changed on the other side. Maintaining some pretense of cool-headedness while still standing your ground is a hard line to follow.

Were it his decision, he would have ended this time sink long ago—with one well-placed strike to the skull—and left it at that. Perhaps, it would have been a touch messier, but the job would have been done all the same and in less time.

Especially now that he can see that Elisif is clearly up to something.

Galmar sighs tiredly, shifting the weight on his feet as his gaze follows Elisif across the room yet again. What business could she possibly have with so many Jarls, and especially those backed by Ulfric? His foot taps on the floor as his skin itches with the temptation to follow her and see exactly what it is that she is planning; however he knows he cannot. Instead, he is trapped here with Dahlia and Ulfric as they listen to Skald rehash the old “glory days.”

Glory days his ass. More like he wants to lick the bottoms of Ulfric’s boots for a better position than Dawnstar.

“Jarls and esteemed guests.” A voice booms from the front of the room as Vignar draws their attention.

Finally, and not soon enough for Galmar’s taste.

“Your cooperative discussion and thoughtful words in today’s events will ensure a brighter future for Skyrim.”

Galmar scoffs, a bitter taste coating his tongue. Cooperative and thoughtful? That’s certainly one way to put it.

[royalydamned-archive]

Make Believe - act 1

(Merritt McKinney x Reader)

Summary: The Horsemen's plans are coming together, all according to schedule. One more step remains: taking you out as the possibility of leading the investigation. In order to get to you, one of them has to become your partner for the time being. That being said, Merritt didn't even expect to be part of the equation, let alone your ultimate choice.

-

OR: Merritt pretends to date you. Before knowing how, he starts to believe it's real too.

|AN|: I can't believe people are still reading the first Merritt fic (and so many!!!). I love this guy so much, I just love that lil' something Woody Harrelson adds to his characters, I don't care what anyone else says, it's attractive. Here's to me being THE Merritt writer.

Anyway, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but since I am dumb like this, it will be spread out into a few chapters, but it will allow me to write more parts (and again, make this longer than it needs to be but such is life).

_____________________

These were some of the strangest few weeks in Merritt's life. Undoubtedly not the weirdest but some of the weirdest. Maybe he will end up in prison, maybe he will finally prove something in his life, chances were 50-50. God, who was he kidding? They were likely 97-3, and he was massively fucked.

Well, at least it's going to be fun, right? Gotta go out with a bang.

"The most important part should be in motion." Pretending to be busy, Merritt quickly sat up as he heard Atlas burst through the door, laptop balanced only on his arm, furiously typing with the other. With every step and dab into its keyboard, the laptop swayed on its laughable support, it must have been that real magic they had promised him keeping that thing from crashing down. "Tressler's assistant contacted me about a meeting."

"Is he paying?" the man ignored his remark, unappreciative of the effort to lighten the mood, and rushed past him, already dialing the others. Not that they knew each other well enough, but that guy was a massive dick, that much was clear.

"What are you even doing here? It's a dump."

"It's filled with the warmth of comradeship and our effort, much homier than my apartment," Merritt smirked, watching Atlas run around in a mix of slight panic and thrill of success. "Jesus, Danny, you look so cute wagging your tail like that."

The only answer was to him was a disgusted look. Good enough, he thought to himself.

Daniel's phone rang for a few times, before the distinct sound of a voicemail came through, followed by a groan of frustration. God, if Merritt had known not being here would stress him out like that, he’d go for a nice long walk with a phone turned off – at least a little payback for the bossing around he had to endure from the guy. He wasn’t even aware they had a leader among them, let alone a self-appointed one. Maybe it was time for a mutiny. 

"Henley, come over to the apartment right now, we all need to talk." Canceling the call, Danny carelessly threw the phone on the small table, a bit too far to toss it like that, and ran his hand through his hair. "And where's Jack?"

"You should take a breath Danny-boy," Merritt said, teasingly.

"How about you help out? That would also be great."

"Whoa, I'm sensing hostility. Someone needs to let out some steam. You know I know a great girl you could– "

"I am not listening to that!" Daniel cut him off, already walking the opposite direction, hands thrown in the air.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," he put his hands up in defense, fighting back a giggle. "It's not like Henley– "

"Henley what?" she asked, coming into the room, two paper cups in hand. She gave Merritt a pointed look, rising an eyebrow as she silently demanded an answer to whatever she had walked on in. If he knew the answer, he would have told her, but he hadn’t been given much to work with.

"Hey–"

"You're late," Daniel snapped, returning to the room, arms resting on his hips, the image reminding Merritt he truly is in their hideout more often than he would have like because somehow, it seemed normal.

“I’m not late, we don’t have a schedule. Here,” Henley handed Merritt one of the cups, on it with a black sharpie and a terrible handwriting was scribbled Baldy.

“Rude,” he complained with a frown to no one but himself as the two had already started arguing, and sat back onto the run-down couch him and Jack brought in last week since they were tired of sitting on the floor. It wasn’t bad, oh who was he lying to, they found it on the street, but at least it wasn’t the floor, despite both Henley and Atlas insisting they’d rather stand the whole time.

“Great, you’re late too!” Danny called out, breaking up the argument briefly when he noticed the youngest member in the doorway, who now stood frozen when all the attention turned to him.

“Sorry, I didn’t know I was supposed to come a specific hour,” Jack said, slowly moving to sit next to Merritt, who was delightfully watching the whole ordeal.

“Nobody did, kid,” he reassured him, receiving a nasty glare from the other.

“Alright, it doesn’t matter. Can we please start.” All four of them looked at each other in silence, and when nobody protested, Danny continued in much calmer manner. “So far, the most difficult part should be over. We have caught Tressler’s eye and if there are no unexpected surprises the Eye have not thought of – which I doubt – the rest of the Horsemen project will go smoothly.”

“That means that’s it, right?” Jack asked. “All we have to do is play along until we can go big enough with our shows.”

“No, absolutely not,” Atlas laughed dryly and grabbed his laptop, typing something furiously while explaining. “We still have to deal with the feds. Fortunately, the plan involves a clear way out with this. Most agents in there are described to be easily tricked with the right strategy and, of course, we have plenty. There’s a file on every single one of the people that might be involved and all of them have a pretty balanced record, some wins, significantly more loses, lucky for us, except one.”

“Perfect score. Might be fun to beat them,” Merritt said, looking around the room for support from the others. None came.

“Not really, we have to take them out of the game.”

“Whoa, hey, when we agreed to do this there was no mention of killing anyone,” Jack blurted out nervously.

“What? No, we’re killing anyone. Jesus. We’re going to make them not want to do the case, voluntarily take themselves out.”

“How would we do that? I suppose blackmail is off the table as well.” Danny shot Merritt an unamused glare and continued as if he hadn’t said anything.

“We need make them personally involved, so, I hope all of you are single, because one of us will date them as long as we need to.”

“How would we even get in contact with them?” Henley asked.

“Stalking, social media, dating sites– “ Merritt started counting on his fingers.

“And we have a general location of the area they live and spend time in. All we need is a few days of closer observation before we can narrow down some kind of a habit. Everybody has one. There, we will meet.”

“So, stalking it is, great choice.”

“What makes you think they even would be interested in any of us, even if we do find them?”

Danny turned the laptop over, showing your file, completed with a picture and general information. “Everybody will have to try, we have four shots at this, which are pretty favorable odds.”

“You guys can rest assured, very few can resist the good old McKinney charm.”

“Yeah, right. I was thinking more like Jack. Realistically speaking.”

As overdramatically as possible, Merritt placed a hand over his heart, faking shock. “You wound me, Daniel. I thought we had something.” The other man simply rolled his eyes, refusing the entertain him in such a situation – any situation, for that matter.  

“We are on the right track, let’s not screw it up with this.”

____________________________

“At least they’re hot,” Merritt stated, sitting tucked away in a booth, close enough to see you, yet far enough to remain hidden. The bar was pretty empty, and they seemed almost over-dressed – some more than others, he thought, watching Danny’s cry for help outfit – but the opportunity had presented itself for them. What was a better time to pick up a stranger sitting alone at the bar than Thursday evening, looking like they had just finished a magic show? Literally.

“Focus,” Atlas snapped, taking out a small stash of notes from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Not creepy at all. “This has to work, everybody read the cards?”

“The completely legally obtained extremely private information about a person we have been following for the last six days?” Merritt replied, sarcastically, receiving a glare. “Yes, memorized it in a very non-creepy way, in tune with this mission.”

“It’s not a mission.”

“Definitely feels like a mission, no pressure,” he mumbled to himself, stealing a secret glance at you. You were looking at your phone, trying to hide a smile with your hand, half drank glass by your side. Something came across his mind. “Hey guys, what do we do if they’re taken?”

“What?” Danny froze and started flipping through the papers. “No, that would be incorrect, every source says they are single and have not found any close personal connections, of course excluding family.”

“Again, not creepy,” he commented off-handedly. “Have seriously nobody thought of this possibility?”

“Nobody had to think of it because it’s not a factor,” Danny shot back through clenched teeth, his foot under the table tapping in an anxious rhythm. Not so sure, huh? Merritt lifted his arm in defense.

“I guess we will have to trust the Eye. And the wizard behind the curtain. They know what they’re doing,” said Henley in a calm voice, gaze fixated to the spot you were sitting in. “So, who goes first?”

“Jack will,” Daniel replied, leaving to room for others to protest. “It’s our best bet.”

“Put that pretty face to a good use for us Jacky, if this doesn’t go well Danny here might have an aneurism.”

“I won’t– “ he glared at Merritt before taking a deep breath to calm the obvious nerves buzzing under his skin. “Alright, fine. Make fun of me if caring about doing well is so funny.”

“A bit,” Henley interjected, still watching you in case you moved and disappeared from their sight. For a moment, Merritt wondered whether you could feel her intense glare stabbing your back.

“Alright, I’m going.” Slowly, Jack rose from his seat, cringing at the loud sound his chair made when scraping against the floor, and before disappearing, flashed them a reassuring smile.

“God, I remember when I looked like that,” Merritt muttered, watching the kid make his way to you with a confident smile, leaning over the bar by your side and flashed you a charming smile. He said something, a greeting, a pick-up line – not that it mattered when one looked like him – and you smiled back, answering immediately and forgetting whatever it was so engaging on your phone.

“In 1938?”

“Hilarious Danny, has your mother never taught you respect towards your elders?”

“Guys, shut up.” They exchanged a silent look, a challenge neither of them really meant, before dropping it per Henley’s request – well, command really – and turned their focus back towards the bar.

They couldn’t hear you two, it was nothing but a mute movie, leaving them guessing what you’re talking about, whether it’s doing well or…well, how else would it go? Jack had his way with people. Merritt could be the one reading them, controlling them even, but he didn’t have the social talent that just couldn’t be learned. It was natural, came as breathing. Merritt could try and make them laugh, make them uncomfortable and intimidated by his skills to gain the upper hand in the conversation, but sometimes he thought about how it must have been, to enter a room and be instantly liked.

Jack leaned over, getting closer to you, to which you smiled again, telling him something and he acted like he was listening intently, nodding his head with serious expression on his face. Merritt watched you lick your lips, studying his face. How easy was that? A mere few minutes and he had you wrapped around his finger, saving their whole plan – until he wasn’t. Until he understandingly nodded, polite smile still gracing his features, and pushed himself off of the bar, returning back to the remaining three Horsemen waiting for him.

“Wh– Jack what happened?” Daniel asked, confused as Jack finally came close enough to hear them. The younger man only shrugged and took his beer, taking a short sip.

“Wasn’t interested,” he answered simply and slipped back into his seat.

“What do you mean ‘wasn’t interested’ that wasn’t the plan.”

“Hey I did all I could, I can’t force myself on them.”

Danny groaned into the palms of his hands, trying to calm down. It was fine, surely it was fine. Strange, but fine, there were three more people at the table that could try – three more shots at success, but this is not what they had expected. It should have been done instantly, sending their best man for this type of work. If he hadn’t succeeded, there wasn’t too much hope for the others.

“Alright, it’s OK. A slight hitch, nothing we have not encountered or will not encounter along the way yet.” Danny started talking quietly, more to himself than the others, trying to calm all the thoughts and possibilities racing through his head so fast Merritt saw steam coming out of his ears. “Henley, you should try it.”

“What about a please?” she shot back calmly, seemingly enjoying his little breakdown.

“Please, don’t do this right now,” he sighed, his leg under the table speeding up. Merritt took a sip of his drink, trying to hide the grin behind his glass, and watched Henley make her way towards you, un-effortlessly striking up a conversation.

“What was it that got you rejected anyway? Did you say something creepy? Did you slip and tell them their personal detail we so legally obtained?”

“No, they just said I wasn’t their type.”

“Oh, great, so Henley should be ok,” Danny said, suddenly looking relieved, and leaned over the table where you and Henley were already chatting, as if trying to hear your conversation. “Wait, what is she doing?”

“What?” Merritt mumbled, his head snapping towards the pair at the bar. “Oh, she’s leaving too.”

“Fuck,” he said, flipping through his notes once more, eyes scanning the words, trying to find what he had missed. “God, I can’t believe we’re going to fail before we can even execute the plan.”

“Hey, look at it from the bright side, maybe this is the fastest someone had failed trying to get into the Eye,” Merritt grinned and raised his glass, offering Danny a toast, but shrugged and finished the drink on his own when he just sent him an annoyed look. “I mean, we still have two more shots.”

“We are fucked,” Danny murmured under his breath, eyes unfocused, looking at particularly nothing, just the few weeks of their work flashing before them like war flash-backs. “I’ll go now.”

Before Henley could have arrived back to the table, Daniel was already leaving, making his way towards you. With a charming smile, he leaned over the bar, but before he could open his mouth, with a friendly expression, you shook your head, presumably sending him away.

“Oh, ouch,” Merritt winced watching the interaction. “That one had to sting.”

“Eh, he got over worse,” Henley said, sitting down next to him, the glass in her hand refilled. “I take it you’re our last chance?”

“It all comes down to the McKinney charm. Like I said.”

“I don’t doubt its efficiency.” He winked at her as they shared a brief look of amusement before Daniel managed to get to the table.

“I’m going for a smoke first.”

“Are you kidding, everything now depends on you.” Merritt grimaced as he heard Danny’s voice, shouting in a shushed tone, way before he could feel his presence behind him, he was like a walking ball of stress that one could hear vibrating even from a distance. And moved surprisingly very quickly, like a little hamster. 

“I bet that one must have hurt to admit,” he grinned teasingly, and took out a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, waving way too close to the other’s face before his hand got slapped away. “Give me five minutes, I’m sure they need a break too.”

Without waiting for an answer, he pushed past him, away from the overwhelming chatter and into a silent back alley. Nothing but a distant traffic and cold night surrounding him and suddenly, he felt like he could breathe again, every exhale visible in the cool air even before he managed to light one of his cigarettes.

Not even a year ago, he was just one bad evening away from quitting magic all together, losing the passion to the struggle of his everyday life, and to the fact he indeed, didn’t have any money. At all. Who besides middle-aged bored women believed in hypnotism anyway these days? No one. His stream had dried out, days of his glory way in the past and he just seemed like he had no hope, no future.

Barely he managed to blink, he was a part of a straight up insane scheme, one that could only had been set up by a complete madman – or a slightly insane genius – either way, whether the Eye exists or it’s one of the best manipulation tactics he had ever seen, he was well on his way on becoming a criminal for a possibility. Maybe even just an idea.

Maybe, at the end of this all, it would be revealed the Eye is just a concept, the work they have done and the justice – or well, so it appeared – they have brought. With Merritt’s luck, he will end up in jail, the warm feeling of using his “power” for the “greater good” the only thing warming him while he would be sleeping on a metal bench with a shared toilet right next to his head.

The door of the bar opened, and his head turned towards the sudden sound, a lone cigarette he had taken out of the box loosely hanging between his fingers. Before he could register what had happened, before he could he could have caught up on the reality he found himself standing in, one where you walked out the bar door, mumbling something about the weather under your breath as the unfavorable temperature hit you, your eyes landed on him, stopping for a few curious seconds before you slowly approached him.

“Hey, you were with the three others that took turns on me tonight.”

Slightly thrown off, he straightened his posture and fixed his hat. “So you noticed, huh?” he said with a smirk, surprised when you came even closer.

“Was very hard to miss. You had a bet or something?”

“God no, but there was an almost fight about who gets to try their luck first. You know how hard it is to come across good-looking people lately. We are a rare breed.”

You laughed, leaning against the wall next to him, arms crossed over your chest and one leg propped up. “Oh? A humble one, aren’t you?”

He just shrugged, putting the almost forgotten cigarette to his lips and lighting it. After a big drag, he rested his head on the cold brick wall. Watching you from the corner of his eye. In anyone else’s mind, the stars had aligned, the last struck of luck – a destiny maybe, but despite being a magician, Merritt didn’t believe in magic.

“I have to ask though,” you said into the silence, turning your head towards him, studying his profile for a few seconds. He hummed in response, his own head slightly rolling to the side, straining his neck so he could watch you directly. Notice every detail he needed, every slight twitch of a muscle, every time you avoided direct eye contact. He couldn’t forget this wasn’t his everyday life, this wasn’t a fun banter with a hope for a night with a happy ending. This mattered, and even though he would rather lick the inside of Atlas’ mouth than to admit it, it scared him. “Why were you the only one that didn’t come to try?”

“I am trying right now, aren’t I?”

“Are you really?”

“That depends.” Now, he turned his whole body towards you, the shoulder he was leaning his whole weight on suddenly painfully crushed by the wall, but that way, he could see your fully – your form, your face, the subtle gestures of your fingers and the way you stood (leaned) in front of him. “Is it working?”

“And if it is?” you asked, voice low, and Merritt had to look away for a second to fight a smirk.

“Then I’ll have to run back to my colleagues there and gloat a little, I’m afraid.” You laughed again, Merritt found himself enjoying the sound, not many even had such a positive reaction, if any, truly. “But maybe I could invite you somewhere, ideally less cold. With food as a bonus?”

“I’d like that.”

Tags: @wicked1will0sparkles

[smalls-words]

Motorcycles Are Dumb

Summary: Oliver Queen is a shit driver who shouldn’t be in charge of your girlfriend’s life.

Pairings: Sara Lance x GN!Healer!Reader, Sister!Felicity Smoak x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort (holy trinity 🙏)

Warnings: Shrapnel wounds, healing wounds by converting them onto your body, sexual suggestion at the end.

Requested: yes/NO

Words: 2,044

A/N - You know the drill; 'you got hurt and didn't tell me' trope, but with two trained League assassins in a relationship. Sara is also canonically bisexual, so that’s the main reason I swapped from Fem to GN.

*not my gif*

You sat behind your sister as the both of you typed away on two sets of computers, analysing the route for your partners to escape without injury.

"Ollie, take your second left." You murmured into the comms.

"Got it." He reported back.

Felicity turned to you in her wheelchair, your posture straight since the League and you could feel her gaze burning a hole into the back of your head whilst your eyes flickered around the desktops.

"What, Feli?" You grumbled.

"You need to get back out in the field. You're no good stuck behind a desk." She spoke her mind.

"The same can be said for you." You retorted, ignoring the fact that she was in a wheelchair.

"Puh-lease. You were trained by the League, by Sara's side. All I'm saying is that you're Angel - you shouldn't be wasting your training." Felicity turned back to the desktops and you quickly shot out of your chair.

"Ollie, there's a bird coming at you on your right!"

You heard multiple grunts and metallic squeals that you didn't have the heart to silence, listening as it made your spine shiver before you grabbed your keys on your desk.

"We're... we're okay. It missed us, but I trashed the bike."

"I'm coming to pick you up." You murmured before you slammed a fist onto the keyboard of your desk and marched into the elevator, furiously pressing the button to the garage before the doors closed.

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You kept glancing back as Sara sat asleep in the back, your mind slightly worried for the cut on her eyebrow but nothing else concerned you.

"I'm sorry." You murmured as you calmly turned the corner.

"For what?" Oliver looked at you with perplexity. "You saved our asses. If you hadn't called it out, that missile would have-"

"Don't, Ollie. I don't want to think about it." You interjected, the simple thought of Sara being dealt with the missile making your stomach drop.

"Alright." Oliver muttered before he winced at the cut by his eye.

"Give." You held out your hand as you turned another corner with your other hand, the archer taking your hand before he pressed a finger of yours to the cut.

You could feel the same area under your eye threaten to split as you healed him, but you redirected the pain towards your back. As you reached the red traffic light, you closed your eyes and lined it up against the others in case it scarred.

"You shouldn't be healing such a simple cut, Y/N." Oliver scolded you and you flipped him off.

"Be glad I picked you up." You barked quietly.

"You would have done it anyway." He grumbled.

"You may be my brother-in-law, but I would have gladly left you behind and put Sara in the front." You quickly turned to him and he saw the look in your eyes to be genuine until you looked back to the road.

"I know." He muttered before you finally turned into the garage and Oliver helped Sara out since she had woken up.

"Let me-"

"I'm fine, Y/N." Sara pushed you away and leaned on Oliver as he helped her walk towards the medical suite of the bunker.

"So, we are slightly closer to finding those drug runners and their trafficking ring, thanks to Oliver putting a tracker on one of them." Felicity welcomed you all back in but saw the scowl you had on your face.

"And I'll just order some Big Belly Burger." She muttered to herself.

"Good idea, sis." You threw your keys onto your desk, littered with many scrunched up papers since you hadn't bothered to empty your overflowing bin and you huffed as you sat down.

"What do you want? Cheeseburger? Basic… beef… burger?" Felicity trailed as she saw the small cut bleeding on your side.

"Y/N."

"What?" You hissed bitterly before you took a deep breath and apologised.

"I'm getting two of mine and you're going to deal with it. Now go help Sara." Felicity grumbled as she tapped away on her keyboard.

You stood and moved towards the medical wing to see Sara lock eyes with you, instantly letting you know she was hiding something. The way she leaned to one side, her head cocked the other way, and the fact that her eyes tried to avoid you gave you all the proof you needed.

You marched up to her, ignoring her protests whilst expertly slapping her hands away until you ripped the side of her shirt with your bare hands.

"You..." You seethed, moving away before you slammed your hand through the metal table next to the bed.

"Y/N, I'm fine."

"You have a piece of shrapnel in your abdomen, Sara!" You yelled and saw how your volume affected her, looking away from her as you shut up.

"Y/N, look at me." She murmured, yet you didn't meet her eyes.

"Y/N Smoak." She growled and that got your attention.

"Don't you dare say you are fine." You pointed at the piece of shrapnel in her abdomen and felt your hands start to shake.

You tucked them underneath your arms as you breathed out shakily, turning away from Sara before you grabbed the medical kit sitting near the bed and threw it lightly onto the bed.

"Y/N-"

"Sara." You interrupted quickly, your tone indicating you were struggling to keep your composure.

She grabbed your chin with one hand and whilst it was gentle, the kiss she planted on your lips was filled with emotion that made you almost forget about her injury.

Almost.

"Thank you." You muttered softly.

Sara knew every trick in the book when it came to you - she had trained with you, after all. Her touch was enough to calm your anger, a kiss enough to decimate it.

"Lie down, please." You asked her and she nodded.

You were never polite with others, not even with Felicity. Granted, you could be, but only if that meant you would get something in return.

"Brace." You muttered and you held out your hand to Sara's, her fingers lacing between yours before you carefully began to dig the shrapnel out and her grip tightened around your hand.

"Don't go breaking my hand, Lance."

"Just get it out, Smoak." Sara seethed through the pain before you finally pulled the shrapnel out and placed your gloves in the bin.

As you sat back down and moved to place your hand over her wound, Sara snatched your hand and quickly grabbed the other when it tried to move as well.

"You are not healing this." She ordered.

"And who are you to stop me?" You curled an eyebrow up before you moved your hands too quickly for her concussed mind to register, pinning her hands above her head with only one of yours.

"Y/N, if you heal this-"

"What, no sex for a week? I can last that long. It's you who can't." You teased as you placed your hand over her wound.

Once again, you felt your lower stomach tingle before you focused on your back and felt your skin split open to match the severity of Sara's motorcycle incident.

"God, you're infuriating." Sara growled as she lifted your shirt and spun you around, grabbing the sticky gauze pad from the medical kit and slapping it harshly on your back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You turned around and spoke softly as you lowered your t-shirt back on.

"Because I knew you were going to do this. I can handle a motorcycle crash, Y/N. I'm not superpowered like you but I can handle Ollie's shitty driving." She cupped your face in her hands before she brushed a loose strand of hair out of your eyes.

"I don't like seeing you in pain, love." You murmured.

"Neither do I. We went through enough of that in the League." She chuckled as she pulled you closer to her.

"You know how I feel about you healing me. And I'm also annoyed that you healed Ollie before me."

"If you were in the front seat, darling, I would have done much more than heal you." You smirked as you kissed her softly.

"I thought you said no sex for a week?" Sara quipped.

“You don’t want sex?” You questioned.

"I don't want sex right now. I just want you." Sara spoke as she pulled away after a few seconds.

"Feli! I'm going home!" You yelled, an incoherent mumble coming from the disabled techie before she waved her hand at you to leave.

⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽⦽

You grinned as Sara waltzed over to you on the couch, moving your butt over so that she could fall into the hole you made between the couch arm and yourself.

"Mmm. This is what I wanted." She hummed as she lay on your front, your arms falling on her back to grab her ass before she flicked your ear and you readjusted.

Even if it was only to the bend of her back.

"Sorry - you know I'm a person of habit." You smirked as she sat up and gave you a half-hearted stare.

"Mhmm. That's why you always throw your keys."

"It gives me a mental reminder of where I put them!" You argued.

"Sure it does." Sara grinned before she kissed you softly and then turned her head to watch the stars twinkle outside.

"Y/N..." She yawned.

You chuckled. "I guess being in a motorcycle incident can tire you out."

"You know I'd prefer it if you tired me out." She smirked before she stifled another yawn.

"You are way too tired for sex. You'd pass out before it'd be my turn." You lightly kissed her temple before you gripped underneath her thighs and picked her up.

"It's past your bedtime, Miss Lance." You stated.

"Shut it, you." She lightly slapped your back but you could feel her body freeze as you climbed the stairs towards your bed.

"It's okay, Sara." You cooed as you placed her on the bed before walking over to the wardrobe and grabbed a set of pyjamas.

"Can I please check?" She murmured as she snaked her arms around your hips, lightly brushing her forearm over the gauze pad and you nodded.

As she peeled it back, you heard her sigh in relief before the rest of it came off in a swift rip.

"Ow." You grumbled in complaint. 

"Oh, shut it." She mumbled before she kissed the irritated area and you slipped your oversized shirt on.

"Come on. Bedtime." You snickered again whilst she rolled her eyes.

As she walked away from you, you tackled her into the bed and grinned when you put her in a soft headlock.

"You win, you win!" She tapped against your arm that wasn't even threatening her airways and you moved it to wrap over her shoulder and your fingers lightly swirled along the skin of her back.

"I always win. Whether it'd be in sex or in life." You smirked before you kissed her softly.

You flicked the covers over the both of you with your feet and grinned at Sara's chuckle, letting her tuck her head into your neck before you covered the both of you.

"I love you." Sara murmured in your ear as she kissed your neck.

"I love you too." You kissed her in the exact same spot on her neck before you heard her chuckle.

"What's so funny, Canary?"

"Nothing, Angel. Just that people would be surprised to learn that you're a bottom." She nipped your ear before licking away the pain.

"You are such a tease, Miss Lance." You smirked before you wrapped both arms over her back, humming at her body against yours before you felt her hands sneak up underneath the back of your shirt.

"Okay. Only a few rounds though - I don't want you passing out whilst I'm midway." You murmured.

"Yes." You heard her whisper as it cheered in victory before she sat up and straddled your waist.

"I told you that you wouldn't be able to last a week." You smirked.

She rolled her eyes at your quip before she placed a hand on your chest and lowered down until your lips tingled from her breath.

"Shut up and kiss me." 

A/N - Sara Lance is just 🥵

[gokartkid]

yukierre university au

“This is so fucked,” Pierre complains, rolling over on his dorm bed to hang off of the end, putting his hands on Yuki’s head.

“What is,” Yuki says absent mindedly. He’s working on an assignment, typing furiously away at his laptop.

“My grades just came out,” Pierre drums a rhythm onto Yuki’s shoulders, watches his hands pause on his keyboard, “for that mid-semester test I told you about.”

“The one that you didn’t study for?” Yuki looks up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey,” Pierre points down at him and tries to look serious, “don’t look at me like that. It’s never gone badly for me before, remember—“

“You’ve never failed a test ever except in 3rd form and it’s because you vomited halfway through the test,” Yuki recites, rolling his eyes, “I know Pierre. Don’t you think this might be karma.”

“Karma!” Pierre pushes himself up to look mock offendedly down at Yuki, “what do you mean karma? I haven’t even done anything wrong.”

“Sometimes,” Yuki looks back down at his laptop and squints at the screen. Pierre collapses back down, leaning his cheek onto his hand to watch him, “you just need to be humbled Pierre.”

“Humbled! Why do you hate me?” Pierre shakes Yuki’s shoulders, just to hear him laugh and try push him off halfheartedly. He keeps typing diligently through the assault, “I am very humble. So humble!”

Yuki makes a noise, disparaging, and Pierre gives it up, letting go and rolling back over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. He turns his head to stare at Yuki again, the profile of his face in concentration, brow furrowed. He keeps poking out his tongue to lick at his lips, pink and wet. His face is lit up with the shifting colours of the screen as he flicks between tabs. 

“You should get blue light glasses,” Pierre says absentmindedly, reaches out to poke at Yuki’s cheek. He leans away and back, swatting at Pierre’s hand, “you’re always looking at your screen.”

“It’s because I’m studying,” Yuki says patiently, “because I want to pass.”

“Ugh,” Pierre blows air out of his mouth, “you’ll pass. Of course you’ll pass Yuki, it’s only a first year paper.”

“You’re the one who made me go to that party yesterday when I wanted to work on this!”

“And you had fun, didn’t you?” 

Pierre pushes out his lower lip when Yuki looks at him, unimpressed, tries to make his eyes as big as possible. 

“You’re hopeless,” Yuki finally says, and shuts his laptop, “you want to get snacks from the dining hall?”

“Fuck yes,” Pierre says, and hops off the bed, “I thought you would never ask.”

[arthurhonda]

Amechuweek day 4

(It got too long for tumblr and I had to split it into two posts :( )

Day 4: Fate and choices @amechuweek

 A human!Soulmate mark!AU (With side pairing of Asakiku)

Alfred threw open his laptop on his bed and typed furiously on the keyboard. He was quite frustrated and just wanted to talk it out with his best friend. A few moments later, he got the notification that Kiku was trying to video call him and he clicked the notification, opening up the video chat.

           “Are you alright Alfred?” Kiku asked concerned.

           “No, I’m not alright.” Alfred vented.

           “What’s wrong? Everything seemed fine yesterday.”

           “Yeah, well guess who finally came of age and got his soul mark.”

           “Clearly, it was the president of the United States.” Kiku joked dryly.

           “Ha ha. No, you know how when we turn 20 we get the name of who our soulmate is supposed to be on our arm?” Alfred replied annoyed.

           Kiku pulled up his sleeve showing a name of his own. It surprisingly wasn’t in Japanese. Alfred gaped, not realizing that Kiku was either the same age as him or older since he never bothered to ask.

           “Of course. I have one too.” Kiku remarked. 

           “Since when?” Alfred asked impulsively.

           “For about 2 years now,” Kiku replied calmly.

           “YOU’RE 22?”

           “Yes? I told you I graduated last spring.”

           “I thought you meant from high school!”  

           “No,” Kiku says flatly, clearly annoyed that his friend wasn’t paying attention.

           Alfred decided to change the subject quickly to avoid too much embarrassment, so he went to grab a glass bottle of soda from the case under his bed and pop off the metal lid, taking a huge swig before responding to Kiku.

           “Anyways, so what’s your name say?”

           “It’s in English,” Kiku replied looking at his arm “It says “Arthur Kirkland…I think.”

           “Wait, you think?”

           “English is not my first language Alfred.”

           “Right, forgot about that.”

           “Alfred, you are calling me at 7 in the morning in Japan. You are very lucky I woke up so early.”

           Alfred had completely forgotten about the time difference between the two of them. He usually had a time conversion chart pinned to the side of his bed, so he didn’t text Kiku at 3 in the morning again. Kiku is not a very friendly person when woken up to talk about something he deemed unimportant, especially when he had an interview later that day, Alfred had come to find.

           “Dude, let me see it,” Alfred asked Kiku, completely forgetting about what he came to complain to Kiku about.

           Kiku obediently held his arm up to the camera so that Alfred could see it. Sure enough, the name ‘Arthur Kirkland’ was printed neatly on his arm. Alfred made a face and groaned.

           “Something wrong?” Kiku asked suddenly concerned, pulling his arm back.

           “I happen to know an Arthur Kirkland actually,” Alfred replied with a sour look on his face “He happens to be my English cousin.”

           “Your ...cousin?” Kiku asked, forgetting what that meant in English.

           “Parent’s sibling’s child.” Alfred reminded him.

           “Ah, yes, thank you. It is a good thing that we both signed up for this language exchange program.” Kiku says with a soft smile.

           “Yeah, but Arthur can kind of be an ass and a stick in the mud. You sure you want to meet him?” Alfred said cautiously.

           “Meet him? I… yes, if you could let us meet I would appreciate that.”

           “It’s your funeral dude. Might not even be the right Arthur Kirkland.”

           “I…would still like to try,” Kiku said with conviction.

           Alfred then sent a text to Arthur informing him that he was giving this other guy his number and then sent Arthur’s number to Kiku. Alfred almost immediately got a text back telling him not to send his number to people without his permission, but Alfred shrugged because what was done was done. Besides, it was Kiku, and they both liked tea, so they’d get along great…probably.

           “There. He lives in London, or around there anyways.” Alfred says, waving off that Arthur had told him several times the name of the actual place where he lived.

           “Thank you so much. I appreciate it.” Kiku says warmly.

           “No problem!” Alfred says doing a goofy two-finger salute with his left hand, and in the meantime realizing that he completely forgot about the soul mark on his left wrist. 

           “Oh shit! I totally forgot why I called you in the first place!”

           Kiku seemed to have forgotten as well, what with the excitement of being able to meet the person whose name was imposed upon his wrist for the last two years. He immediately put his phone to the side to listen to what Alfred had to say.

           “Right, you got your soul mark today.”

           “Yeah, and I can’t fucking read it!” He shouts as he puts his arm up to the camera. “Wait, it kind of looks like your writing! Is it Japanese?”

           “No,” Kiku said flatly.

           “Well, shit. Now how am I supposed to find out what the hell their name is?”

           “It’s Chinese.”

           “Shit… you don’t happen to know anyone who speaks Chinese do you?” 

           “… I do actually,” Kiku admits “But we don’t need that because I recognize the name. It’s my … cousin.”

           “No fucking way dude. It can’t be that coincidental! Wait, why is the name Chinese if it’s your cousin? Aren’t you and your family Japanese?” Alfred asked genuinely confused.

           “No. Not cousin… um, child of cousin’s …wife.” Kiku struggled to say as he tried to recall how the family tree worked in English. “They live in China, that’s why the name is Chinese.”

           “Oh. That makes sense. Not much chance I’m going to meet this person then am I?” Alfred said, sounding a bit disappointed.

           “Actually…” Kiku looked a little nervous. “Would you like to meet them? Their family is staying at my home while they visit Japan.”

           “Uhhh…. Sure!” Alfred said incredibly uneasily.

           Kiku either didn’t pick up on Alfred’s nervousness or ignored it as he closed the laptop lid partially and stood up to go into another room.

           Alfred began to panic. He realized he didn’t even ask what the name was and what gender said person was. This was his soulmate, and he had no idea what their name was despite it being imposed onto his left arm. How embarrassing is that? He decided to down the rest of his soda, run his fingers through his hair, and made sure his shirt didn’t have any funny stains on the front.

           “Kiku…are you sure that this is a good idea?” A new voice asked Kiku in shaky Japanese.

           Alfred felt a chill go down his spine as he heard the voice. It was the most beautiful voice that he had ever heard. All of his nervous energy suddenly melted away and was replaced by anticipation. He had to see the person who owned that voice.

           “I’m sure. Look at your arm.” Kiku convinced this other person.

           “Alright, fine.” The other person relented after a long pause.

           The lid went back up and Alfred was met with large brown eyes that rivaled the color of freshly turned soil. They were absolutely gorgeous. As they backed up, Alfred saw they had on a red t-shirt with a golden trim that contrasted their skin, and sitting on top of the shirt was long dark brown hair that rested in a low ponytail.

           “H-Hello.” The boy greeted in Chinese.

           “H-hi. I’m Alfred. Nice to meetcha.” Alfred stuttered out.

           “Yao.” The other person said pointing to themselves. It was clear that there was a bit of a language barrier between them.

           “You speak Japanese?” Alfred tried.

           “A little” Yao replied shakily.

           Suddenly Yao held up his arm to the camera and asked Alfred if that was his name. Sure enough, in a deep black was the name ‘Alfred Jones’ was marked on his arm just like Yao’s name was written on his. He put his own arm up to the camera and he heard Yao gasp audibly. Yao said something in rapid Japanese that was too fast for Alfred to pick up to Kiku who snorted.

           “Wait, what did he say?”

           “Unfortunately for you, I wish to live to see tomorrow,” Kiku says with a smirk.

           “Rude!”

           Kiku eventually left and the two of them got to talking, mostly using hand signs, drawings, figures, whatever they needed to get the point across. It turned out that they had a bunch of things in common. Eventually it got late, and Alfred had to go to bed, but Yao gave him his number for “English practice” and a promise to talk more the next time they both could. Alfred fell asleep with a smile on his face that night.