#I hate game day traffic I hate game day traffic I hate game day traffic—

[midtiersaiyan]

Football was a mistake.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

wow i hate living with my family as an adult

yknow every damn weekend morning i feel Guilty for walking around in my room because the floor squeaks and it wakes up my brother, but EVERY DAMN NIGHT he hollers at video games, sometimes until TWO OR THREE IN THE MORNING, and i have to go to fucking work about it so. he can just deal with it, i've decided.

[wetpapert0wel]

hey......what if. instead of tumblr making their own gaiaonline avi things......what if we just went to gaia online.......

[shoeistars]

— NO PHOTOS ! pt. 2

༺ feat. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

༺ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

༺ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

༺ pt. 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

— REO ! car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

— BAROU ! wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

— RIN ! under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

— SAE ! checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

— SHIDOU ! pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ HOCKEY PROBLEMS ୧

summary: you have been having some problems in your relationship with Chris, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t loves you.

notes: this is my first time writing a fanfic, I've always wanted to create one since 2020. english isn't my first language, it's probably not very detailed and there might be some mistakes, so don't expect too much lol. but give me feedback tho, l'd love to know what you think!

warnings: sexual assault, cussing, fluff, about three thousand words I think.

୨୧

My relationship with my boyfriend Chris is not the best. Well, at least, not now.

Lately we’ve been arguing all day long over stupid things, like who gets the last slice of pizza, or who gets the last word in a discussion. And it always ends in the same way. Silent treatment, from both sides. But it's not like Chris or I enjoy it. Most nights, I hear him in the bathroom, where he spend hours in tears. It’s horrible and makes me feel like a piece of shit. Hearing him cry only adds to my own feelings of guilt.

And how do we make things up? Sex, over and over. He would fuck the attitude out of me if he had to.

Me and Chris made a pinky promise that I would never miss any of his Hockey games. And I never did, cause i know how much my presence is important to him. And especially cause we are always in good terms the days before any of his games, but not today, we just argued again about nothing, we haven't talked for the past two days.

Nick and Matt, Chris's brothers, usually text me and offer to pick me up for Chris's games, but this time, their texts never came. It’s like they knew how our relationship was going. Chris definitely told them something.

Now you see myself driving to the arena where he plays in, the game is about to start in 20 minutes, and with this traffic, I don’t know if I will be there in time.

Red sign for the past 5 minutes. I have cars in front of me, behind me and next to me. Fuck. I start getting anxious. My nerves are on edge. I bit my nails subconsciously, the habit I got from my dad. My leg starts shaking. I can’t mess up things even more, I gotta be there, I have to be there.

After what feels like an eternity stuck in traffic, the car in front of me finally starts moving. I let out a sigh of relief as I find a parking spot. After that, I enter the venue where Chris plays (Which wasn’t that big, cause he plays in a small team in our city.)

Before taking a seat I scan the crowd anxiously, searching for any familiar faces, no one, I can’t find anyone, not even his two brothers. “Fuck it” I mumble to myself and I just get in a seat with some random people next to me.

The game is about to start, the crowd is already cheering. The players are drinking water and getting ready to get in the rink. My eyes examine each one of them, looking for Chris, number three. He was with a serious face. ‘Are he’s eyes red?’ I think to myself as I narrow my eyes, my vision is bad as shit, but I can tell he’s eyes are all puffy. He has some big dark circles underneath his pretty blue eyes, he looks fucking exhausted, It was evident that he was crying just now.

The players finally begin to take to the ice, their skates gliding across the surface as they prepare for the game to begin.

On Chris's team, there are six talented players, used to winning every single game. However, this time, they were against a really good team. Chris hated that team. I hated that team. Well, not really the team, but one of the players: Cam, Cameron.

Cam is a completely fucking jerk, in college he would always try to hit on me, but I’ve never really went with his face, what would get on his nerves, especially when I started dating Chris. It went to the point where he would force me to have intimate things with him. He was the worst human alive, and I would do anything to see him dead.

FLASHBACK

I just had PE, finding myself alone in the girls locker room as I change clothes. The sound of the front door opening echoed, followed by quiet footsteps creeping up behind me, sending shivers down my spine. I try to ignore it.

As I slipped my shirt back on, I felt two hands grip the sides of my hips, and a warm breath brushed against my neck. I freeze for two seconds. I know this is not Chris. Without thinking, I instinctively push the hands away and I turn around quickly, only to come face to face with Cameron.

I glare at him, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. His smirk widens as he takes a step closer, invading my personal space. "What's the rush, sweetheart?" He whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance.

I take a step back feeling the wall behind me getting closer "What are you even doing here? Get the fuck away from me, Cameron" I say firmly, trying to sound like i’m not scared, but the reality is that I’m pissing my pants.

He chuckles like he’s making fun of me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Or what? You'll tell your precious boyfriend Chris?" He teases, moving closer until I can feel his breath on my face. grabbing my waist and pinning them against the wall. "Come on, babe, you know you want it as much as I do.." he affirms, leaning in to kiss me, touching his lips on mines.

“Get the fuck away!” I whisper yell as i try to punch him away but he grabs my wrists. I struggle against his hold, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin, definitely leaving red marks.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t move. I start panicking. This is my end.

Tears blur my vision as I plead "Cameron, stop!" My voice trembles with fear as he kisses me, his lips rough and demanding against mine. Each kiss is a painful reminder of my vulnerability. Each kiss feels like a violation. I feel dirty, tainted by his touch everywhere in my body. A wave of nausea churns in the pit of my stomach as I try to move him away from me.

"Stop fucking fighting, you are not getting away from me" He murmurs against my lips "You deserve this, you want this.” I try to move as he keeps pinning me "You think I don’t see the eyes you give me when I walk by? Huh slut?" He scoffs, his hot breath against my face. "You were begging for this."

“I wasn’t begging for any of this. I never gave him any ‘eyes,’ he’s fucking delusional!” I think to myself, but my words remain trapped in my throat, suffocated.

As his lips travel down to my neck, leaving a trail of unwanted kisses, I can’t do anything more than start crying and screaming, kicking my legs and arms.

I never went back to those lockers again.

END OF THE FLASHBACK

I hated him so fucking much, and Chris did even more. And now, they are about to compete against each other.

The moment Chris stepped onto the rink, I could see his eyes looking for someone known on the crowd. Desperately, I raised my hand and waved, hoping he would spot me. And he did. His face automatically softened into a gentle smile, erasing some of the tension that had been weighing on me, but he was still with his tired eyes.

The game started with an intensity that matched the tension in the air. Both teams were determined to win. Cameron eyes were burning with rage. At this point, they weren’t competing as a team, it wasn’t about the game, it was about their personal life.

As the game progressed, the rivalry between them two escalated. They began to argue on the ice, each vying for control of the puck with increasing aggression.

Chris managing to gain possession of the puck and score two goals in less than five minutes. But Cam, folded by his own anger, refused to back down. Without thinking he charged towards him at full speed. Cameron swung his stick, causing Chris to trip and fall hard onto the ice.

“What the fuck is he doing?” I say out loud as I get up from my seat to get a better view. Chris remained on the ground for what felt like an eternity, clearly in pain. Every player on the ice stopped and looked around confused without knowing what to do, but not Cameron. He keeps going with the puck in direction to make a goal, with a visible smile on his lips. But then he notices how everyone really stopped and he slows down too, annoyed, not showing any regret.

The thing is, my boyfriend is in a fetal position on the ice, unable to move and no one is doing anything about it? That’s not happening, not with Chris. Without a second thought, I get up from my seat, whispering apologies to those I brushed past as I made my way to the rink. Ignoring the stares and comments from the crowd, I stepped onto the ice, my focus solely on reaching Chris. I get in the rink. I don’t give a shit about who’s watching me.

Kneeling beside Chris. His nose was bleeding, he looked pale and disoriented. Gently, I placed a hand on his shoulder, my voice trembling with concern. "Chris" I whisper, my voice shaking "Are you okay? Please look at me..” I beg in a desperate tone

Chris struggled to respond, his voice barely above a whisper as he fought through the pain "Y-Yeah.. I’m fine.." His eyes half-closed in discomfort.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention, and I glanced up to see some of the players from both teams getting around us, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, a few of them hurried off to get help, while others stood by, unsure of what to do.

“Is he okay?” One of Chris's teammates asked as he knelt beside me, his voice filled with worry.

My anxiety spiked at the sight of Chris's condition, and I couldn't help but let my frustration show. "No, he’s not!" I replied, my voice unintentionally louder than intended. "Don’t you guys have nurses or some kind of medical staff here?!"

The teammate glanced back at me, his expression uncertain. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure they're on their way, don’t worry, he will be fine” He said sounding unsure.

I gently place Chris head on my lap, whispering sweet and calming words on his ear while we wait for someone help us. What I was saying was comforting me more than Chris.

Finally the arena's medical staff arrived, urging us to clear the area around Chris. They place him on a stretcher and wheeling him out of the rink. As they took Chris away, I followed closely behind them, my steps quickening to keep pace with their hurried movements. "Hey, excuse me," I called out to one of the workers, my voice tinged with desperation "Is it okay if I stay with him?" But they seemed way too focused on their task, ignoring me completely as they rushed Chris to a small emergency room they had here, leaving me behind on the hallway, my heart pounded with worry and frustration. But before I could even process what was happening, a familiar voice cut through the silence. I turn around,

Cameron.

"Look who it is" He says, his gaze fixated on me with an unsettling intensity. "Never thought I'd see you here, playing the concerned girlfriend” He chuckles.

My blood boiled at his words, the memories of his unwanted advances and aggressive behavior flooding back with nauseating clarity. "You're sick, Cameron." My voice trembling with rage “You can’t even stand losing a fucking game, you are insane.” I stay some seconds in silence before talking again "You better stay the hell away from me and Chris."

Cameron's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he reveled in my discomfort. "Or what?" He teases, taking a step closer "You gonna hit me? Huh?” He talks in a mocking way

I raised my hand and delivered a good slap on his left cheek, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. "I fucking hate you!" I yell, my voice trembling with rage as I glared at him with undisguised contempt.

Before Cameron could react, the sound of approaching footsteps coming in our attention, and I glanced up to see some of Chris's teammates rushing towards us, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

"What's going on here?" The same blonde guy with a four in his shirt asks, his voice tinged with urgency as he eyed Cameron with suspicion.

"Nothing," he muttered, attempting to regain his composure, "I was just.. checking on Chris. But the workers said we have to wait, and unfortunately, I've got somewhere else to be." Cameron lies, fuck he’s good at lying.

He gets closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “I hope he gets better” He said in a fake nice tone, like he means it, I move his hand away from me, making him get slightly angry again, he leaves. I watch him go, feeling a sense of relief wash over me knowing that he was finally out of here.

Turning back to Chris's teammate, I say “Anyways..” I take a deep breath “I will just wait here until they say something”

The blonde one nods understanding. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me” He replies, his voice filled with sympathy “So, the game was canceled, and we got shit to do, so we can’t really wait here”

“Yeah sure, no problem, I understand” I respond, I try to sound so nice as he is sounding “I'll make sure Chris texts you guys after he leaves the room.”

Chris's teammate nodded appreciatively and they all began to leave to the same direction as Cameron. I sit into a chair next to the door where Chris was, my mind racing thinking about Chris.

Some good ten minutes after, one of the workers is leaving the room, I look up at him, catching his attention. “Excuse me,” I begin, my voice laced with anticipation “can I see Chris?”

He nods, offering a small smile. “Of course, go ahead” He replies kindly before disappearing down the hallway.

Before I enter the room, I take a few deep breaths to control my anxiety. Knocking gently on the door, I slowly open it. He was sitting in a long bench with elastic bandage on his ankle and wrist. Chris's eyes light up at the moment he sees me and a warm smile spreads across his face.

“Shit Chris, I just slapped Cameron in the face!” I say as I close the door behind me. Chris immediately starts laughing. his laugh is contagious. I sit down next to him. “You did not” He keeps laughing

“What’s so funny? I’m being serious” I chuckle, feeling the tension ease from my mind as Chris's laughter fills the room.

"I'm sorry, babe" he says between laughs "But when was that?”

“Literally like fifteen minutes ago! Gosh he’s so fucking annoying! And did you see the way he literally made you fall on purpose? I could break his face right now” I say in a dramatic tone, making him laugh even more.

“Anyways he doesn’t matter..” I look around thinking about what to say “So what did the nurses say?”

Chris's laughter subsides as he leans back against the bench, his expression growing more serious “Nothing much.. I just sprained my foot and my wrist, but nothing much”

“Nothing much?!” I say slightly shocked with his words.

Chris chuckles softly, shaking his head at my reaction. "Okay, maybe it's a bit more than 'nothing much,' but I'll survive" He says with a reassuring smile, though I can see the pain behind his eyes.

I gently reach his injured hand, my thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "I'm just glad it's nothing too serious," I say softly, my voice filled with genuine concern. "But still, I can't believe Cameron did that to you! He's such a pussy!" My last sentence makes Chris laugh again.

As I watch him, a sense of relief washes over me, knowing that despite everything, we are still able to find humor in the situation.

Some minutes talking until the silence fills back the room. We are definitely both thinking about the argument we had days ago, cause we didn’t talked since.

“I.. I wasn’t expecting for you to watch the game today” Chris says slightly looking down.

I stay in silence for some seconds “Listen, Chris" I begin, my voice soft but determined "About the arguments we've been having lately.. I know things haven't been the best.. But..” I sigh “But I still care about you, and I always will.”

Chris looks up at me, his eyes softening with emotion as he listens to my words. "I care about you too" He says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I hate that we've been arguing so much, especially over stupid shit.. I just.. I don't want to lose you.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I reach out to gently cup his cheek. "You're not going to lose me, Chris." I assure him. My thumb brushing over his skin affectionately.

He gently buries his face on the crook of my neck, I lay my chin on the top of his head, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

"I'm sorry for everything," Chris murmurs against my skin. "I don't want us to keep fighting like this."

Now I run my fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of peace settle over us. "I'm sorry too.." My voice sounding like a whisper. "Let's try to work through this together, okay?" He nods softly.

I kiss his head “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He answers quietly.

୨୧

hey, this is the end! i hope you have enjoyed it, if u saw any miss spelling or anything tell me in the comments, please.

also, i think it got kinda confusing cause i was using words on the past and in the present, but idk 😭😭

[xxoxobree]

Morales Fam Road Trip HC’s.

Ft. Jeff, Rio , The Twins, And You 🥰

You guys are driving to Florida To Visit Rio’s Parents. Orlando Specifically.

You weren’t supposed to come but the twins begged you and their parents until they heard yes.

It was so last minute too, they asked you two days before the trip.

It was Really Miles’ idea that you came, he hates to be separated from you.

Milo (because you guys like that name 😭 it’s so basic) too hates to be separated from you but he’s Capital P fr so he couldn’t let you know that.

Rio said you guys weren’t going to any theme parks but the ticket prices are reasonable so they bought them to surprise you.

You are forced in the middle seat to keep the peace between the twins. 😂

It works for the first 2 hours of the trip.

Big Daddy Jeff 😍

He’s Driving ofc

Goes 10 under the speed limit.

Calls out every traffic violation he sees.

Had a lot of coffee so he’s a bit jittery and is talking a lot.

Holds Rio’s hand🥰

Does the dad hand thing when he hears snacks being opened.

Shakes it and throws it in his mouth 🤣

He was that nigga back in the day, yk what I mean ? 😏 so the playlist is good but clean versions only 🤣

Does the dad “Hey.” When y’all are misbehaving in the back.

We’ll get there when we get there , when asked how much longer.

Needs to stop to pee every hour 🤣

Mama Rio.

Had to pray for her sanity before she entered the car.

Takes pictures of everyone and everything the whole car ride.

Loves the cows , makes everyone look at the cows and horses.

“Oh my god Jeff, stop.” Whenever he calls out a road violation.

Ask if you guys are excited every time you stop.

Turns around with the mom face when you guys aren’t listening. Fussed at you guys in Spanish.

Y’all are listening to Selena.

Plays some of her childhood music and talks about memories in Puerto Rico.

Plantain chips and water. And don’t ask her for none. 🤣 She gives Milo some cause that’s her baby Miles is salty , but she shares with him too.

Miles

Is sooo excited you said yes, has a whole itinerary for you guys, that he FaceTimed you about the night before.

Sits to the left behind Jeff

Sketches Things he sees, on the way , redesigns street signs. Sketches a picture of you and his brother.

Shows you the sketches to get your approval.

Only one who listens to Jeff’s fun facts

“That looks like you” when he sees something ugly. He did it to Jeff and had the whole car cracking up

Begs to go to universal studios because he wants to take a picture with Megatron. Lowkey a minions fan too.

Shares his blanket with you.

Leans on your shoulder and falls asleep.

Makes you watch cartoons with him. You love it.

He and Jeff eats everyone snacks. Doesn’t want to share his tho.

Share with you ofc.

Tells you stories of his grandparents.

Takes pictures of him you and Milo.

Throws his legs across you and Milo.

Milo

Is excited you came too but he’s Capital P so he just hugs you.

Is the reason you’re in the middle. “I’m not sitting next to him ma.”

He leans on your shoulder too , they’re clingy boys.

Talks to Rio in Spanish the whole ride.

Shares his AirPods with you. His playlist is fyeeee🔥🔥🔥 puts you onto new artists and songs.

Plays IMessage games with you. He wins every time.

Texts you talking shit about Miles 🤣 you tell him to be nice.

Shares his candy with you and Miles

Him and Miles go back and forth about Miles eating his snacks.

Pushes Miles’ legs off of him every time and give him a death glare.

“We close Ma?” Rolls his eyes every time he hears no.

Watches Tik toks with you

[tsukishimakeiswife]

You just spent the dirtiest night of your life with Geto Suguru.

a/n- this song reminded me of him<3 you could play it throughout the post if you'd like.

------

One chance. That's what you told yourself and Geto before agreeing to go on a date with him. Everything about him was so alluring. You knew once you crossed a certain line with him, there would be no going back. Not with him. In the 3 years you worked with Geto Suguru, not once did you resist catching a glance at him. How could you not? When he looked at you as if you were his only source of life. He was perfect and amazing at everything he did. That's also why you loathed him. Anything you did, he would do it better, that too with such ease.

Hating him wasn't easy, either. Your seniors would want you to consult him if there was any issue. Got a problem with your paycheck? Ask Geto. Want a sick leave? Ask Geto. And wouldn't he enjoy it when you came to him, seeking help? His signature smirk plastered across his face every time you stood outside his office. He was so infuriating, yet so attractive.

One day, he finally pushed you over the edge. A sales pitch you worked on for weeks was scraped just because Geto had a better idea. 'Of course, they should just let him run the company, huh?' You made the not-so-graceful decision of walking out of the meeting and going back to your office. You got your stuff, clearly done for the day, and left the building soon after. Trying to haul the cab in horrendous city traffic only frustrated you further. That was until someone put their hand on your shoulder, almost making you jump.

There he stood, looking egregiously hot. He stood in front of you with his shoulder-length hair in a half bun and a shirt that hugged him just right. He fixed his tie before speaking up after what felt like an eternity of eye contact.

"I didn't mean for that to happen- look, (y/n). I know you hate me right now, but let me make it up to you."

And that's how you ended up here. Sitting in front of him so prettily, adorned in your most breathtaking dress and high heels- to look somewhat tall next to his large build. You made sure to look your best, and the way his eyes scanned your body made your efforts worth them. The glass of wine in your hand, long forgotten as you leaned back and heard him speak. The tension between you two was wild. The air was heavy and thick. The ambiance of the restaurant didn't help much, either. You were sure he picked such a place on purpose.

However, that wasn't the craziest part about tonight. It was the fact that you were enjoying this so much. His eyes never left yours, alternating between your lips and orbs while you spoke. He leaned in to 'hear' you better and 'accidentally' brushed his knees against yours. Tonight, there was something different in him. It was as if nothing was stopping him. Hunger was apparent in his eyes. He was determined to get what he wanted.

You saw through his game. You weren't dumb, and he knew it. He wanted you to make the first move. Moreover, with every second passing, it seemed more difficult not to do that.

"Easier said than done, love. You ne-", he stopped talking immediately. He had something better to focus on now. Your freshly manicured nails were currently placed on his thigh. If his winning this silly game meant what you thought it did, then you'd take it any day. You were attracted to Geto, more than anything at the moment. His eyes darkened and in the blink of an eye, his entire aura shifted. You felt smaller, and you didn't think that was possible with Geto. He called the waiter for the cheque almost as if in a hurry.

The two of you got up and he immediately took your hand in his, taking you towards the elevator, maybe. You didn't care. Not when Geto has you in such a state. And he hasn't even touched you yet.

The two of you enter the elevator, finally alone. He didn't react, though. All you wanted to do was kiss him, taste him, feel him. His calm composure, on the contrary, was far from your flustered state. He looked down to meet your gaze as you did the same, bodies facing each other, but not reacting.

The lift doors opened and he immediately walked out. You tried to keep up with him, but he was practically dragging you now. You entered the suite he'd booked for you and the man in front of you didn't even wait for the door to close before pinning you against it. He leaned down to make sure he was just above you, his hair falling out of place onto yours. You tucked the strands of his hair behind his ears before pulling him down to kiss him.

You could physically feel the smile on his face when you did, and he didn't spare you for a second. His hands immediately reached for your throat and the other one pressed your lower back to bring you closer to him. The kiss was electric, hot, passionate, and desperate. Geto Suguru kissed hard. He gently led you towards the bedroom- not breaking the kiss for a second. You felt ecstatic, his hand on your throat applying the slightest amount of pressure- the kiss which was so hot you felt dizzy already. Breaking apart to catch your breath; you looked into his eyes, his pupils were completely blown out; his hair was a mess now; he was so pretty.

He pushed you onto the bed and you were now lying on your back. Geto caged you in before kissing your jaw, your neck- biting and leaving marks with utmost grace. He kissed you on that spot behind your ears, to which you sharply exhaled. He smirked against your skin and whispered in your ears, "I haven't even done anything yet, and look how you're reacting." you rolled your eyes and scoffed before whining at the feeling of his teeth sinking into your soft skin. Your hands were on his neck, playing with his hair and occasionally tugging on them. It drove him crazy.

He gave you a genuine look as his hands landed on the hem of your dress, making sure you were still okay with this- to which you nodded. He slipped your dress off and tossed it aside, taking in what was in front of him. It was as if he was consuming you completely, his gaze was dark- it sucked you in, trapped you inside. You tugged on his hand for him to hurry. He kissed you again and you unbuttoned his shirt. You knew he had an amazing body, but it was nothing like you'd imagined. There really was not a single thing in him that you could complain about.

He kissed down your chest, taking off your bra and stopping right at your stomach. He looked straight into your eyes and said, "What do you want me to do, love?" your breath hitched and you hesitated. You felt more needy than ever, Geto knew that. But he had to show you he had power over you, didn't he?

"Geto, please. I need you," you said- whispered. He raised his eyebrow to indicate that he'll have to hear you again. "You'll have to be louder- and more specific." he retorted.

"I want you to fuck me, there?" you almost spat out. Only getting more and more frustrated. You sneaked in a 'please, Geto' to make sure he didn't get pissed. All he did was simply nod while taking off your lace panties. He didn't hesitate for a second before shoving two of his long, rough fingers into your cunt. A loud whine left your lips and your hands immediately covered your mouth, trying their best to muffle your moans- screams. His fingers were long. You meant that. He stretched you out and immediately began pumping in and out. He tutted and shook his head- almost as if he was disappointed.

"I wanna hear you, baby. Covering your pretty mouth won't help. And, it's Suguru for you." at this point, anything this man said only made you wetter. He found your g-spot effortlessly, abusing it as he added a third finger. "Fuck- Suguru, too much." your back arched and your breath hitched with every thrust. He could tell you were getting close. "Too much? This isn't enough, my love." his thumb was now on your clit, toying with it as if it wasn't making you whimper and moan out his name. His free hand caressed your face, tucking your hair behind your ear and locking fingers with yours.

You were close, lewd sounds echoed through the suite and his harsh, degrading comments only got you riled up more. "gonna cum- shit. hah- Suguru, more." He chuckled before picking up his pace. "Come on, come for me." pushing you over the edge. You screamed out his name and held onto his hand as your orgasm washed over you. It was ecstatic. Your body spasmed and you tried to catch your breath. Your orgasm barely passed by before you hear his trousers drop to the floor.

"Don't think we're done, love. I meant what I said. We're just getting started." he took off his boxers revealing what he'd been hiding the entire time. This man was big. And you meant that. A wave of shock and excitement passed your body as you gasped at the sight before you.

"Get on your knees for me." you nod and shuffle around till your knees and elbows are on the mattress, your ass is up and your hair brought to one side of your face. His hand trails along your spine kneads your ass before giving it a harsh slap.

“I’m gonna go slow at first, tell me when you’re comfortable, hm?” he says as he coats his cock with your slick. He aligns himself and slowly enters your hole. A sharp exhale left your mouth as you groaned and threw your head back. He was way bigger than you expected, you bit your lip to drift your attention away from the sting you felt. He leaned forward so that his chest was on your back now and he sank his teeth into your neck while entering you slowly. You whimpered and tears pooled in your eyes, carrying your mascara with them as they ran across your cheek. He kissed your tears away and whispered how ‘you’re such a good girl’ and you’re ‘so obedient for him’

After what felt like an eternity, he completely bottomed out and the pain slowly faded away- transforming into the most pleasure you’ve ever had. You gave him a quick nod which was his signal. He turned immediately. His pace increased and he went faster- harder. Your face was now smushed against the pillow while you screamed in pleasure. His hand rubbed against your overstimulated clit- only making you cry out more as you begged him to slow down, to go easy on you. His hips snapped against yours picking up his pace despite your cries.

You could feel your next orgasm nearing, feeling embarrassed over how much tighter your cunt got with every thrust, a groan left his lips and he grabbed a fistful of your hair to lift you up to his level, your back pressed against his strong chest.

“You’re gonna be a good slut for me and take it, yeah? I see the way you’d look at me everyday. Fucking me with your eyes in front of everyone. Now take it like a good girl.” you cried out his name and tried to grab his hand that was currently abusing your clit. Your choked cries and unsuccessful attempts at getting him to slow down did nothing but boost his ego more. He let go of your hair letting you fall back onto the pillow and grabbed your face, turning it to the side, “You’re not gonna look away, okay?” he said.

You bit your lip and nodded at him as you grabbed the bedsheets, seeking support from the silk sheet underneath the two of you. He thought you looked beautiful, your pouty lips were swollen and glistened with your own saliva on them, your cheeks stained with mascara and your eyes, half lidded and pooled with tears. You looked ethereal.

With a final thrust you came around him, crying out choked moans and whines as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt like you couldn’t think anymore. Geto thrusted into you throughout your orgasm and gently lifted you up while he fucked into you, you gasped as you still clinged onto him. This man was strong- he lifted you off the ground while fucking into you as if it was no big deal.

By the time you rode out your high, you realized you were pressed against the glass window of your suite. The cold glass made you hiss as you looked down at the busy street. Humiliation took over you as you looked at Geto with a confused face. You were tired, that's for sure. A mess. That was an accurate word to describe your state right now. Geto pulled out of your abused hole and you whined at the empty feeling, still breathing heavily from your last orgasm. He turned you around to face him.

"You alright there?" he tilted his face to the side and leaned down to lock lips with yours. He was soft, kind, and caring. At the same time time; he was rough, mean, and sadistic. He had you wrapped around his finger. You whispered his name out when he slowly entered you again. Your back arched and you dug your nails into his back. He hissed at your actions and groaned your name out. Your name left his lips as if it was his favourite word.

His pace increased and you clung onto him with every bit of strength left in you. Your mind felt foggy and you didn't know what took over you, you spoke up. "Suguru, let me ride you. Please." it was a weak whisper. He wouldn't have been able to hear you if it wasn't for how close the two of you were. He slowed down and carried you to the bed, placing you down before getting on. He made himself comfortable against the bedframe and tapped on his thigh, "There's nothing I would love more, love."

You weren't so sure if that was a mistake or not.

"Tired already? You've barely moved."

"So gorgeous, all f'me."

"Look at you, my cock-drunk princess."

"Want me to lend a hand?" he smirked. He had the 'genius' idea of tying your hands behind your back before you got on top of him. You definitely made a mistake with your suggestion. Your head was on his shoulder now. Your thighs felt like they were on fire. Every single movement made you cry out. He didn't help you out, either. His large cock only adding to your mix of pleasure and pain. He enjoyed this more than anything. Your struggle to take him and maintain balance riled him up even more. You groaned at his words and nodded into his shoulder.

"What was that? You're gonna have to tell me." you can't believe you almost forgot why you hated him so much. He grabbed your face by the neck and brought you to face him, inches apart. You bit your lip to muffle out your moans and rolled your eyes. He looked at you, waiting for you to speak. "Help me, Suguru." "Please," you added, before he spoke up, causing him to smile.

"Whatever you say, love," he whispered in your ear before gripping your hips and bucking his hips upwards. You gasped at the sudden movement and lost balance, falling back onto his shoulder as you cried out his name. He was close, and so were you. Your whines and moans of his name made him feel like his body was on fire. You had no idea how obsessed he was with you. And there you were, in front of him, breaking down because of him.

"Fuck, (y/n). You're driving me crazy." he pulled you up and looked at you, and you didn't dare to look away from him. No, if you did, you were sure he would ruin you. His words threw you over the edge as you tightened around him and came. He hissed at you and shot his seed into you. He held onto you as you clawed at his chest- riding out your high.

The two of you stayed in the same position for who knows how long. "I thought this was supposed to be an apology dinner." you panted out.

"Would you rather have that?"

"...no."

You let out a tired giggle before looking up to meet his eyes, smiling and pulling him into a simple, pure, passionate kiss.

"I still dislike you, though,"

“I wouldn’t pass a judgment so soon. After all, I’m not done with you yet.” he said, while his hands moved down your body.

———

part two??

[sunhoures]

And It Was All Yellow

pairing: wonwoo (svt) + reader (fem.)

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, photographer!wonwoo, artist!reader (+ journalist!mingyu)

word count: ~5.7k

synopsis: wonwoo doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he finds himself falling for you a lot sooner than he thought possible

inspired by: the text post pictured above ^^ & the song “yellow” by coldplay 💛

posted: august 21, 2023

The weather in Seoul was dull—gray clouds and scattered, drizzling rain suspended over the city since dawn had broken. Most people hated such weather, but Jeon Wonwoo was not one of those people. In fact, he found comfort in the gloominess. He enjoyed the idea of having an excuse to stay in. And if he did need to go outside, he liked that there was a lack of the usual crowd of people that would be around if the weather was more ideal. Traffic was less compacted. Lines of any kind were short (or non-existent). The city was quiet, just as he liked it.

On days like today, he preferred to spend his time inside with a book or playing video games. But work had been scarce for him these past few weeks, so when his best friend, Mingyu, had informed him of a job offer he had no choice but to accept it. That’s how he ended up at a local art museum downtown at 9:45 a.m. on a Thursday morning. Despite the doors not opening for another fifteen minutes, a worker had let him in through the front door when he got her attention and pointed to his camera bag. She realized he didn’t have an umbrella with him, and so she quickly let him in. Luckily he had a raincoat over his outfit and a hat to protect his hair, so the most he had to deal with was a little rain on the back of his neck. He thanked the worker, staying close to the door to get any glimpse of Mingyu arriving.

In the meantime, he watched the cars pass by outside, each one splashing water out of the puddle and onto the sidewalk just in front of the entrance to the museum. He noticed it had lightened up a bit outside, the sky turning from a darker gray to a lighter gray with wispy, white clouds. He wondered if anyone would even show up to this exhibit opening in such weather conditions.

About five minutes after he arrived, Mingyu came knocking on the door, covering his head with a magazine. The worker came back and opened the door for him, deciding to leave it unlocked. Wonwoo’s younger friend came in, complaining under his breath about forgetting his umbrella and getting wet. He shook the sopping magazine, droplets of water falling onto the concrete floor. His gray button-up was a darker gray on the shoulders and sleeves from the rain that seeped into it. Wonwoo noticed the worker glaring at his friend for dripping on the floor and tried not to let his amusement show.

“Forgot your umbrella too?” he questioned Mingyu, “Hopefully your notebook didn’t get ruined.”

His friend looked to the bag he had hanging from his shoulder. The bag didn’t have a zipper, but it did have a flap that fell over the opening to keep it “closed” in a sense. He quickly shoved his hand inside, feeling around for his notebook. When he felt the edges of the paper and confirmed they were dry, he smiled, “All good. And why so early? That’s unusual.”

“I’m never late,” Wonwoo defended.

“Yeah, but if I tell you to be somewhere at ten a.m. you usually don’t walk in until nine fifty-eight.”

The older of the two shrugged, “Got an early start today.”

The two men began their work day, Wonwoo fine-tuning the settings on his camera to his liking while Mingyu made some preliminary notes in his notebook. They set up together in the lobby, but once the artist had arrived, Mingyu excused himself to greet her. Wonwoo stayed in the lobby, taking a couple of test pictures to see if anything else needed to be adjusted. Around him several museum workers, journalists, and other photographers were gathering with the artist. Wonwoo wasn’t the biggest fan of interacting with strangers, so he kept to himself. Luckily, he busied himself with his camera which was enough to keep people from disrupting him.

Once Mingyu returned to his friend, the two joined the growing crowd waiting by the entrance to the new exhibit where a ceremonial ribbon cutting was about to take place. Wonwoo found the ribbon to be a bit superfluous. Nonetheless, he stood towards the back of the small crowd, arms crossed and camera slung around his neck by its strap. He was hired to take some pictures of the event and the art pieces for Mingyu’s article, and that was it. It was somewhat easy money for him, but it did take more time and social interaction than he liked. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait for this to be over and go home to edit.

He watched you, the artist, get behind the ribbon and make your speech thanking everyone for showing up. He snapped a couple pictures as you thanked the museum for giving your art a home temporarily. After a few minutes, you ended your speech by giving a small spiel about how art was therapeutic to you and it should be for everyone else. He found himself subconsciously nodding in agreement, because photography was a form of therapy for him as well.

The ribbon was cut after your speech, and the congregation of guests entered the exhibit for the first time. Mingyu and Wonwoo brought up the rear, but they were just as astonished as every single person ahead of them when they saw the art on display. Several paintings of various mediums hung on the walls, varying in size. The large columns in the middle of the room also held paintings on them, each piece of art accompanied by a small plaque with information about it—like the title and date. Mingyu, just like the other journalists, was already jotting down notes in his book, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his pressed lips in concentration. Wonwoo peered around the room, simply taking everything in. His hands held his camera which was still hanging from his neck.

The two friends walked around together, patiently waiting for the other guests to continue on before taking their time in front of a piece to write or take pictures. As they got to the last few paintings, Mingyu made a comment about finding the bathroom, and that he would be back shortly. Wonwoo nodded and continued to snap a few pictures of the paintings before him. He came to a stop in front of a simple painting of sunflowers; the acrylic paint forming a kind of 3D effect on the canvas. He stared at that one for a moment longer than the rest of them, not for any particular reason, he supposed. It didn’t stand out from the others or anything, but he liked it for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Do you like sunflowers?”

Your voice startled him, though he didn’t show it. He merely turned to you, giving you a small nod of acknowledgement as well as a small, polite smile, “They’re fine I guess.”

“This was one of my first pieces I made in art school,” you explained, and it was then he noticed it did indeed have the earliest date posted among all of the canvases in the room.

“It’s nice,” he said, “Congratulations, by the way. You’re very talented.”

Your face broke into a sweet smile despite that being the nth compliment of this morning. Each one felt like a gold star being rewarded to you, and it filled you with happiness. You gestured to his camera, “Do you work for a magazine?”

“Um, sort of,” he shrugged, “My friend does, he just has me shoot pictures for his articles.”

“Oh, I do remember seeing you with someone,” you remembered, “Um, the tall one with the gray shirt, right?”

“Yes.”

“I see. I haven’t gotten to speak with him in depth yet, do you know if he’ll be back soon?”

“He should be returning from the bathroom soon,” he replied. Usually Wonwoo was terrible at making conversation with strangers. He dreaded it. But you gave off such a comforting, welcoming energy. He found himself wanting to talk to you about, well, anything, “This weather isn’t too ideal for this occasion, isn’t it?”

“The rain?” you asked, “Yeah, it’s a bummer, but the turn out was great still. I didn’t think so many people would come.”

“Why’s that?” his brow raised slightly in curiosity.

“I didn’t think my art was special enough to warrant such an exhibit. One of my mentors from art school is friends with the head of the museum, and he asked him for a favor. He’s put a lot of time and faith in me, but I don’t think my art is worth such a grandiose gesture,” you spoke so casually, as if it was fact. Wonwoo found your confession to be a little disheartening. Sure, the art might not have the prestige to qualify for the MoMA or the Louvre, but to someone like him who casually enjoyed art, your work was impressive.

“Well, I’m glad he did. Your work is amazing,” Wonwoo was a man of few words, but he hoped the few he could give would bring you some reassurance. And for the moment it did. You smiled warmly, perking up further when Mingyu returned to the both of you.

“Hello again, would you be able to spare a few minutes with me?” he asked you, already getting his notebook and pen from his bag. You agreed, and the two of you began a conversation while Wonwoo continued to snap some photos of the last paintings. When he was done, he waited patiently for you and Mingyu to finish your conversation. Around ten minutes passed, and the crowd was fluctuating as some people left and some newcomers joined. Wonwoo watched the guests observe the art, getting some inspiration to take photos of them as well. He figured some candid pictures would look nice too. He even got one of you and Mingyu discussing the sunflower piece before he approached the two of you again.

The three of you talked for what felt like hours but in reality was only twenty minutes. At some point the conversation had veered from art to your social lives. Mingyu was a very sociable, outgoing person, so it didn’t take long for him to strike a casual conversation with you. He had learned that the three of you frequented the same coffee shop a few streets away.

“We’ll have to get coffee together some time,” you said, “Should we swap numbers?”

Mingyu happily did so, and the two of you swapped phones to add each others contacts. You made a comment about getting with some other journalists, but you promised to stay in touch before leaving the two men with a “thank you for coming!”.

The rain had cleared up by the time the two friends left the museum. They walked together to the bus stop across the street, waiting for the bus that would be passing shortly. While they waited, they talked about the notes Mingyu got and the shots Wonwoo took.

“She was really sweet,” Mingyu said with a smile, “She told me she didn’t have many friends in the city. We’ll have to take her out with our friends some time soon.”

“Sure,” was all Wonwoo responded absentmindedly, replying to a text from his brother.

“She was pretty, too,” Mingyu added in a suggestive tone.

That made Wonwoo look up from his phone with a pointed look, “What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” his friend shrugged, but his expression was telling before his mouth was, “It’s just been a while since you’ve dated is all. You two seemed to be getting along well.”

The older man rolled his eyes, returning them to his phone as he opened Instagram and proceeded to scroll through his explore page, “I spoke to her for five minutes while you were in the bathroom. I’m not going to fall in love with her in five minutes.”

His friend sighed, “You’ll never fall in love if you’re not open to a potential relationship.”

Wonwoo got quiet then, and the conversation didn’t pick up again until shortly before the bus arrived. On the ride he thought about what Mingyu said. It was true, he hadn’t dated in a very long time, since college actually. Now that he was twenty-seven, it was getting harder and harder for him to find himself in a situation to meet someone. He rarely left his house. He spent his free time doing things alone, and when he did go out with his friends he stuck to them pretty closely. On top of all of that, he wasn’t the most approachable person. He wasn’t a cold person, or at least he didn’t consider himself one. But his looks gave the impression that he was, his sharp eyes and straight-drawn lips making him seem standoffish.

And unlike his friends, he didn’t believe in “love at first sight”. The idea of meeting someone for the first time and instantly being head over heels for them just didn’t connect with him. He didn’t understand how others felt that. When he dated in the past, it took weeks, even months to fall for the person he had a crush on. And he wasn’t necessarily upset with the way he lived; he didn’t mind being alone. Since he was a kid, he always felt more comfortable doing things by himself. But lately he realized his day-to-day did feel a little lonely, especially since most of his friends were settling down with their partners or moving away to pursue careers. Maybe Mingyu was right. Maybe he did need some kind of change.

The first time you hung out with the two men after meeting them at the museum, Mingyu had invited you to join them for lunch. The three of you ate Korean barbecue, learning a bit about each other over a few bottles of soju. Wonwoo didn’t do much talking that time, mostly speaking only when spoken to. You and Mingyu carried the conversations, not that either of you minded. You felt like Wonwoo would need time to open up to you, so you gave him that. Luckily, the two agreed to hang out with you again later in the week. Mingyu had to get some editing done, so he invited you and Wonwoo to keep him company at his apartment.

You were shocked when Wonwoo was the one to engage in conversation with you first, greeting you at the door and welcoming you in. He and Mingyu were preparing a simple dinner, so you sat at the kitchen island watching them cook. You noticed Wonwoo seemed more comfortable talking this time around. Maybe it was because you had hung out already, or maybe it was because he was in a familiar environment. Either way you liked seeing a little crack in the shell that kept his true personality shielded away from you.

Over a couple months the three of you became really close, and you had even met some of their other friends. Mingyu’s office wasn’t far from the art supply store you visited every week, so you made it a habit to visit him every Thursday on your supply runs. The two of you would get lunch or just sit in his office and talk during his break before you returned to your art studio. You really liked the friendship blossoming between you and the two men, but then one day something changed.

Wonwoo texted you out of the blue one Saturday mid-morning asking if you wanted to get some coffee with him. You found it odd that he texted you because he had never done that before. It was usually Mingyu who texted you, or they texted you in a group chat that you had together. Nonetheless, you responded with “of course!” and got dressed.

When you showed up to the café you were confused to see Wonwoo sitting at a two-seater table by himself. You noticed he looked like he put more effort into his appearance today. Normally when you hung out he was in lounging clothes—a simple shirt with sweatpants or maybe loose jeans. The only time you remembered seeing him dressed this nicely was the day you met, and he was working then. But he didn’t mention working today? So what could be the occasion for him to wear off-white pants, a mustard yellow sweater, and what looked like new shoes?

He was reading something on his phone when you approached him, the light from the screen reflecting on his thin-rimmed glasses. When you set your purse down, he looked up at you and gave you a small smile, “Hey.”

“Hi, is Mingyu not joining?” you asked curiously as you sat across from him. You didn’t notice when the corners of his mouth wavered for a second.

“No, he’s working. You’re stuck with just me today,” he joked.

You chuckled softly, “Don’t make it sound so bad. Was there a reason you wanted to hang out today though? I have to say I was a little shocked when you texted me.”

It was Mingyu’s idea, but Wonwoo didn’t want to admit that. His friend had pointed it out that the two of you had never hung out alone. He figured it might help Wonwoo warm up to you more if you spent some time together one-on-one. And even though he didn’t say it out loud, Wonwoo knew Mingyu secretly wanted the two of you to work out romantically—for whatever reason, he wasn’t sure. Wonwoo wasn’t completely closed off to the idea; you were gorgeous and friendly. But he knew it wasn’t going to be an overnight thing. It took weeks for him to feel comfortable with you as a friend, he could only imagine the time it would take to start a romantic relationship.

“I, um, just realized we never got a chance to hang out alone. We don’t really know much about each other outside of our hang outs with Mingyu,” he said. In that moment he also realized how tense he felt. His legs were stiff and knees were drawn in close together under the table. His fingers toyed with the wrapper of his straw from his iced americano. His shoulders were drawn in the slightest bit, and he could feel his posture was kind of terrible. He tried to relax without making it look obvious that he was tense in the first place.

“Yeah, I guess I figured you just didn’t like to socialize as much as Mingyu did.”

“I don’t, but I’m trying to be better about that,” he admitted, and you felt like you might actually be getting somewhere with him, “He teases me a lot about being a hermit.”

You laughed softly, and he smiled with you, “Well, it’s nice to see you coming out of your shell.”

After an appreciative look from him, you excused yourself to order a drink. Wonwoo immediately opened his phone and texted Mingyu.

wonu 🐈‍⬛: ok i’m here, now what do we talk about?

gyu 🐶: well first, don’t be on your phone smh. second, just ask her questions about herself. seem interested. try not to look bored like you always do

Wonwoo sighed in annoyance, ignoring the last part of his message as he turned his phone over on the table. You returned shortly after, also with an iced americano. He decided to give his friend’s advice a try, “Do you always order iced americanos?”

“Only sometimes. My go-to is usually a hot latte, but it’s a bit warm for that today,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. He nodded in understanding, but he was unsure of what else to say. It was so much easier to converse with people you’ve been friends with for several years.

Luckily you had no issue with it, and you broke the awkward silence up for him, “How long have you been doing photography?”

“I’ve done it as a hobby since I was in high school, but after I graduated I started doing freelance work. So, almost ten years.”

“I’d love to see your work some time,” you spoke fondly, remembering the first time you met, “Your shots of my exhibit were amazing, so I can imagine the rest of your work is too.“

“My stuff doesn’t compare to the art you make,” he said it without even thinking. You weren’t sure if you should take it as a self-deprecating remark or flattery.

Your lips quipped into a thoughtful line before you derailed, “Okay, your turn. Ask me a question.”

“Oh, are we playing twenty questions?” Wonwoo joked, sitting back in his chair and sipping on his drink. The sunlight beamed directly across his right eye and onto his cheek. His eye was a deep chocolate brown color as opposed to the dark, cold, almost-black color it usually was. You wondered if his eyes were always that soft.

“Yeah, I’ve just decided. Your turn,” you repeated. You crossed your arms on top of the table, subtly leaning in as a sign of giving him all your attention. He fought the smile wanting to live on his lips, opting to look deep in thought. The two of you went back and forth for nearly half an hour, just asking each other questions. Some answers warranted tangents and story times before you went back to the questions, but you enjoyed it to the fullest. And truthfully, Wonwoo was too. He didn’t think he could get so much enjoyment from a game he used to play with his friends in grade school, yet here he was. On the verge of laughter as you told an embarrassing story from high school in which you were running late to school and didn’t realize until your second class that your underwear was stuck to the back of your shirt.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Wonwoo laughed softly, a crinkle appearing on the bridge of his nose, “I would’ve dropped out of school.”

“I thought about it,” you joked, a bashful smile on your lips as you remembered the story like it happened yesterday, “But yeah, if you’re going to get your clothes from the dryer, double check that your under garments aren’t stuck to them first.”

“Noted,” Wonwoo looked over and noticed that a new couple was sitting at the table behind you. That was the second time new people sat right there. He wondered how long you two had been sitting, but he didn’t want to check his phone in case you got the impression that he was in a rush to leave. Which he definitely wasn’t, “Okay, I think it’s your turn again.”

“Okay, um . . . “ your eyes searched the room for a question prompt, but you were grasping for straws- Wait, that’s it. Straws. The cups of plastic-covered straws on the counter were organized by color, one cup for each color they offered—pink, blue, and yellow, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Hm, why don’t you guess?” Wonwoo replied.

If he was honest, he didn’t really have a favorite color. He supposed if he considered it more he would settle for blue or purple, but he didn’t care enough either way. A good ninety-five percent of his wardrobe was black and five percent color, but he just liked black as a good neutral color to wear. He figured he would just let you guess until you decided to give up.

You thought about it for a moment, but no specific color came to mind immediately. His clothes were mostly black, but lots of people wore black clothing and had a favorite color that wasn’t black. His shirt was yellow as well as the straw for his americano, but there was no other indication that it would be his favorite color from what you could remember. Still, you figured it might be your best guess, “Yellow!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile at your prideful declaration. You said it as if you knew it for a fact.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, really?” your eyes got wide and the grin on your face grew wide. Did you really guess it correctly in one try?

Even Wonwoo was shocked by his answer. Yellow wasn’t his favorite color. He didn’t have one. But you seemed so excited and hopeful and sure of yourself that he didn’t even think twice about his answer.

“Yeah, good job,” he praised you, and he had to admit to himself you looked really cute when you clapped your hands together in a small celebration for yourself, “What’s yours?”

“Pink,” you seemed visibly brighter when you answered. It made sense to Wonwoo. Pink was such a cute, bright, outgoing color. It signified friendliness and sweetness, and all of that just screamed you. Maybe he liked pink too. “It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. Everything I had was pink.”

“Pink suits you.”

You felt yourself flushing at the compliment, your smile turning sheepish, “I think yellow suits you, too. I’m picturing a nice pastel yellow for you. Very spring.”

He tried to picture it: him in a pastel yellow shirt. The mental image seemed foreign, since the mustard sweater he was currently wearing was the brightest color he had ever worn besides white. But he wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“Alright, your turn.”

A few more questions were exchanged between you two, long after your cups were emptied. The patrons of the café that had been present when you showed up were long gone, and new faces took their places. After a while you felt a little guilty for hogging the table for so long, even though it had only been a little under two hours. Wonwoo made a comment about heading out, so you both got up and threw your trash. He walked with you to the bus station, even though he had driven to the café in his own car. You thanked him for inviting you to hang out and told him that you enjoyed it.

“We’ll have to do this again some time, but maybe not tell Mingyu. He might get jealous,” you teased your non-present friend, making Wonwoo laugh softly. He knew for a fact that Mingyu would have no problem with it; he would probably encourage it, if anything.

“I don’t think he’d mind. He’s not usually the jealous type,” Wonwoo replied, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. He tried to think of something you two could do together, and he recalled that during the twenty—more like fifty plus—questions you had said you liked video games too, “If you want, we could hang out at my apartment, play some video games. And order pizza or something?”

“That sounds like fun!” your eyes lit up at the idea. You had never actually been to his apartment before. Every time you hung out was at Mingyu’s place, your place, or somewhere in the city. You wondered what his apartment looked like. He seemed like the type to keep everything tidy and minimal, “I’ll be pretty busy this week, but maybe we can work something out for next weekend.”

“Cool,” he nodded and kept small talk until the bus arrived to pick you and a handful of other people up. He waved you off politely, and when you were out of sight, he let out a hefty sigh. It felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders, but not in a bad way. He liked you, so there was this small, subconscious pressure that he felt to be more outgoing. He wanted you to like him too.

Over the next few weeks, there was a shift in the dynamic between the three of you, and it seemed to be obvious to everyone except Wonwoo. You and him had grown a lot closer as you started to hang out alone outside of your usual outings with Mingyu and their other friends. And it showed when the group was together. You always took the seat closest to Wonwoo. He laughed more at your jokes. You complimented his outfits—which were slowly but progressively becoming more colorful. He offered to walk you to your car or the bus or home whenever he could. Yet, still, when asked if anything was going on between you two, he seemed confused.

“It’s not like that,” he told Mingyu when the two were walking to a job they had booked one afternoon—a restaurant opening, “________ and I have gotten close, but not that close.”

“Hey, I know you wear glasses, but you can’t be this blind,” his friend retorted, “You two like each other.”

Wonwoo faltered a bit as he walked, but tried to play it off, “Did she say she liked me?”

“No, but she doesn’t need to. Neither do you, but as your best friend it would be nice if you told me these things.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, annoyed that Mingyu had made him think you had finally admitted having feelings for him.

“You two act like you’re in your own world all the time. The guys notice it, too, not just me,” Mingyu continued, “And since when do you like yellow so much?”

The question took Wonwoo so off guard that he laughed incredulously, “What?”

“She’s always giving you stuff that’s yellow. And you started wearing yellow clothes,” Mingyu pointed out. And it was true.

The first thing you had gifted him was a simple pen; it was a sunflower yellow color with black lettering etched on the side that said ‘hello, sunshine!’. He was confused when you had handed it to him that second time you hung out together to play video games. You showed up on his doorstep, telling him to close his eyes and put out his hands. When he had opened them again the pen was sat in his palms.

“What’s this for?”

“Nothing, I guess. I was at the supply store and noticed it by the check out, and I thought about you. So I got it for you. It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Wonwoo honestly had no reason to use such a pen since his day-to-day work required little writing. And most of his notes were made in his phone, but the sentiment behind your gift made his heart flutter, “It is. Thank you, _______.”

And nearly every time after then you had gifted him things similar. While at the park with him and Mingyu, you bought him a banana flavored popsicle, solely for the fact that it was yellow—and you were relieved to find out he liked the banana flavor. When you went bowling with their friends, you gave him the yellow ball and left yourself with the last one which was brown. When you went to Mingyu’s to see the two of them, you had brought them each a keychain from a new pop-up shop that was near your art studio. You gave Mingyu a red one that had a soccer ball on it while Wonwoo’s was yellow and had a sunflower on it. You had initially got it because of its color, but the flower reminded you of the day you met him, so it held even more sentiment.

And recently, Wonwoo’s favorite water bottle had broken, so while you were out shopping you had found one that was similar to it. The cap was a little different, but it had the same shape and size, and it was a golden yellow hue.

When you gave it to him, the two of you were about to leave his apartment to get some dinner at the fried chicken place down the street. You had mentioned that you had a surprise for him, then you fished the bottle out of your tote bag to show him. His heart skipped a beat and a smile crept onto his lips when he saw it.

“I know you probably won’t love it as much as your other bottle, but hopefully you still like it,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. He took it from your offering grasp and shook his head.

“I do love it,” he said.

“You can leave it here while we go eat,” you turned towards the door, pulling your bag more securely onto your shoulder. But just before you could reach for the doorknob, Wonwoo’s voice called your name, making you turn back to face him, “Hm?”

Your eyes widened when you realized he was a lot closer than you thought, just a foot or so away from you. His tall frame seemed to tower over you, causing you to have to look up at him. You could see a struggle happening behind his eyes, as if he was going back and forth in his mind trying to decide on something. You were about to question him when suddenly he leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to your cheek. The skin that he touched felt hot in his wake, the warmth spread across your face and ultimately your whole body felt heated under his gaze.

“Thank you, ________. For everything,” he spoke softly, his anxiety apparent in his tone. He averted his gaze, looking down at his hands. A bracelet that you had bought him last week was wrapped around his wrist—white beads and yellow smiley face charms decorating it. For some reason seeing the jewelry gave him the little boost of confidence he needed to ask, “Would you like to make this a date?”

Your eyes widened even further, but you couldn’t ignore the flurry of butterflies going wild inside your chest, their fluttering wings tickling your heart. Your crush on Wonwoo had started long before his crush on you had formed, but that didn’t bother you. Because you knew that he liked you now, and you couldn’t pass the opportunity to say, “Yes.”

A charming smile grew wide on his face, prompting you to grin too. Happiness bloomed inside you, and the two of you walked out of the apartment suddenly feeling shy after wordlessly admitting your feelings for each other. Despite his nerves, though, Wonwoo found the courage to take your hand in his as you walked down the sidewalk to the fried chicken place.

Along the way you pointed out some yellow canola flowers planted outside of an office building, and Wonwoo decided in that moment that he would never get tired of the color yellow. The way your face lit up when you saw it or gave him yellow-themed gifts, he would always find it cute. As far as he was concerned, the entire world could be covered in the color yellow, and he would be content just knowing it made you happy. He no longer would appreciate rain; instead, he would look forward to sunny days when the bright, yellow sunlight would remind him of you and your kind heart. Maybe yellow wasn’t his favorite color at first but, over time, it would be.

— please like, reblog, and/or leave a comment! i appreciate your feedback! 🧸

— join my taglist here

[euphoricfilter]

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟐

the mcflurry is 2 miles back that way

tags/warnings: game designer! jungkook || non-idol au || established relationship || just fluff in this one || best boyfriend jungkook trying his best || very lightly implied staining of car seats due to bodily fluids

word count: 1.1k

notes: no taglist >:)

☆ collaboration with @bonny-kookoo 💕 ☆

☆ series masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

Your foot taps against the ground, eyes trained on the back of Jungkook’s head as he hunches over the counter of the car rental place.

The noise of the airport is starting to grate at your brain, mood already sour from the flight. You hated travel, and as much as you loved Jungkook your patience was slowly wearing thin, entirely ready for the silence of your own space, and your boyfriend all to yourself.

Your eyes narrow in the slightest at the flirty little smile the car rental woman tries to shoot your boyfriend, entirely unprofessional in your opinion. Though you suppose you don’t blame her, he is good looking, probably comes off as some bad boy player if you don’t know him. A fact you’d laughed about to your friends when they’d worried over him cheating on you at the start of your relationship.

You tug your carry-on bag on bag towards your boyfriend, hand slipping over his back as you peer over at what he was writing. You feel some of the tension leave his body, his hand pausing for a moment to glance over at you with a smile.

“Do you want some help?” you ask, leaning a little closer into his side when you catch sight of the rental woman staring between the both of you, chaste kiss pressed to the warm skin of his cheek. You didn’t need to read her mind to know of the jealousy that seeped from her body, miniscule chance of her having anything with Jungkook immediately crushed as you look over at her with a daunting smile. Silent warning that you’d seen what she’d try to pull.

Any other day, you’d be all for the girls… just not when it came to Jungkook. He was yours. Forever. And that was final.

Said man shakes his head, “I’m meant to be doing all the work this holiday” he reminds you, a fact he’d brough up over and over again on the plane. Making it a point to carry your bag for you, plethora of all the snacks you liked tucked away in his bag just in case. He’d made sure you were comfortable, his own blanket sacrificed as a pillow to soften the bone of his shoulder as you slept, your own blanket tucked neatly around you, courtesy of Jungkook.

“This is barely work, give me your passport and I’ll read the stuff out for you” your hand slips from his back, reaching over the counter.

He frowns over at you, “I was serious when I said I was doing everything this trip”

“Stop being silly” you nudge your shoulder against his arm, patting the paper in front of him, “Now hurry up, it’s too noisy. I’m almost at my limit”

His bottom lip juts out slightly, back bending to press a kiss to your lips, “Sorry”

“For what?” you hum, eyes scanning over the document.

“Making you wait” he murmurs.

You wave him off, “You know I’d wait forever for you, it’s no big deal”

“But it is—” he starts. You turn towards him, finger pressed over his lips.

“Not right now, there’s a line behind us and you’re almost done filling this out”

He nods, lips puckering for one last kiss before he finished signing for the car.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“I want something sweet…” you murmur, eyes trained on the road ahead. Jungkook turns to you when the traffic light turn red, hand grasping onto your jaw as he pulls you in for a gentle kiss, strawberry sweet lip balm coating your own lips.

“Was thinking a Mcflurry, but that was nice too” you say, eyes flickering between his own. Heat rising to your cheeks as he stares at you, eyes glazed over with adoration, so much love filling his eyes you’re unsure what to do with it all as you drink it in.

“Eyes on the road, Kook” you remind him, green light caught in your peripherals.

He etches you into his mind for a second longer. A second too long for the driver behind you as they honk their horn for Jungkook to hurry up.

He simply huffs, perfect moment shattered by an impatient driver. This trip was meant to be dreamy, and naughty and so many perfect things. And loud car horns were never meant to be in that equation, nor noisy airports, and slow receptionists. He was half convinced your bags weren’t coming off the plane as the two of you sat there for over an hour waiting for them to come out. He couldn’t get the car he wanted (specifically choosing the leather seated one for easy cleaning just in case), he was hungry, and stressed. Not exactly the immensely over romanticised get away he was imagining.

“Jungkook?” you ask when he misses the exit the satnav had told him to drive down, half expecting him to just go around one more time to get to the right road. However, he starts driving back down towards the airport.

“Jungkook what are you doing?” you turn to him, eyebrows furrowed.

“You said you wanted a Mcflurry” he quickly glances over at you before his eyes are back on the road, “I saw an exit a little while earlier for a gas station”

Your mouth falls open a little, “Huh?”

“If you’re craving it now… then you might not want it later, so I’d rather get it when I know you want it”

“Jungkook” you shake your head, “We’re meant to be meeting Maria”

He shrugs, “I told her we might be a little late. Nothing ever goes right on our holidays, so I made sure to add extra time just in case”

You blink over at him, utterly baffled that he had even thought to think that far ahead. He was usually very involved in your holiday planning, though it had been a thing you’d always done together, two brain always better than one.

“Oh” you say, falling back into the car seat, “Maybe you should start planning our holidays alone more often”

His fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

“Nope” he starts, “I like doing it together, this is a one off”

“And you doing everything during the holiday? Is that only a one off too?”

A smile curls onto his lips, “I always take care of you on holiday, baby. I’d do everything for you all the time, but you’re such a strong independent wom—”

“Okay that’s enough” you stop him, eyes catching onto the gas station from your side of the car.

“Can we get fries too?” you ask, watching as he pulls into car park.

“Of course, I’m spoiling you this holiday. Order whatever you want” he rummages through his pockets for his card, handing it to you.

“You still have to order when we get inside, okay?” you call over your shoulder as you get out the car, not catching the happiest little grin on Jungkook’s face.

[bagopucks]

J. Hughes - Can’t Break Up Now [Old Dominion & Megan Moroney]

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Fem!reader

Word Count: 904

Warning(s): talk of major fight, self deprecating thoughts, thoughts of self harm

I promise this fic will not hit the same if you don’t listen to the song while reading. This song quickly became my favorite as soon as I heard it, and I knew it just had to be a Jack fic.

—————————————

You know the color of my coffee

Too many t-shirts in my closet that you bought me

At this point, I can't unlearn the things you've taught me

About myself

It was our biggest fight yet. Jack and I had both said things we didn’t mean. We were scared of the unknown. Scared of a disagreement with our future. Jack had merely said he could easily see himself leaving the city if he ever got traded. But I had a stable job and family here. I couldn’t leave…

I had been frozen in shock when the door slammed shut. He’d left. Perhaps rightfully so. I’d called him horrible things. I broke down on the carpet in the bedroom when he left.

You pick the music when I'm driving

Your mama always takes my side when you fight me

And these days, my dog likes you more than he likes me

You can just tell

Jack hadn’t thought the answer through, and in the end he got too defensive to admit how wrong he was. When he left he didn’t know where he was headed. Jack just knew he was going somewhere. The yelling, the accusations, the hateful words spoken… they’d all been too much.

Jack gripped the steering wheel of his car impossibly tighter than before. His knuckles were white. He wanted to pull the wheel and turn himself into oncoming traffic. He wanted to spend his life with this woman. What had he done?

So what am I supposed to, unlisten to every song written?

Take you out of every melody?

You know my secrets, my demons, and I know your weaknesses

All of your doubts and your dreams

Jack knew she was alone, just as he was. Crying, panicking, asking herself what to do. He just couldn’t bring himself to go back. He didn’t know how to face her. But where were they supposed to go from here? The only way to know was if they could talk it out. Jack knew if they didn’t talk, it had a 100% chance of ending badly. Maybe if they spoke they could fix it.

So we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

Four years. Four solid years of loving and growing. There for each other in every scenario. Every rise and fall. Every accomplishment and failure. There was such a deep history, how could they end things?

I hate the thought of starting over

If you left, I know I'd never get closure

Can't imagine letting anyone get closer

Than you are to me, oh

I flicked through photos in my phone, scaling back too many years. If I deleted them, four years of my life would be gone. Four years of so much effort. How could I leave him? I folded my legs beneath myself on our bed. Our bed. I needed Jack. The photos on the wall? His clothes? His towels in my bathroom. His dishes in my cabinets. His movies, his gaming consoles, his furniture. Everything would be gone.

Yeah, I'll battle this out all night 'till we fix it

If the ship's going down, I'm going down with it

Time alone did nothing to ease either mind. So perhaps it was better to be together.

Your friends are my friends

Jack turned his car around the moment he knew what he wanted.

I start where you end

I stood from the bed to leave the room. I decided I’d leave the front door unlocked. Yet when I got there, I couldn’t gain the courage to actually unlock it. Instead I sat against the wall next to the door, waiting to hear his knock. His voice.

We've got too much history

This was the right choice.

So we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

We've come too far and we're in too deep

We love too hard just to let it go

So we

Can't break up now, oh

It didn’t take Jack long to drive back to the apartment. Mostly because he was speeding. He’d tried to fix his disheveled appearance before knocking on the door, plastered with fake gold numbers that clacked every time the door shook.

So what am I supposed to, unlisten to every song written?

Take you out of every melody?

I shot up at the sound, no hesitation in my body this time as I unlocked the door and opened it. We were met with one another’s faces, silent, blank. Where would this go?

No, we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

“I’m so sorry..” Jack’s broken voice reached my ears. “I love you so much.”

No, we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

“God Jack I never should have said any of that.” I fell into his arms, quiet sobs falling from our lips as we held each other tightly.

We've come too far and we're in too deep

We love too hard just to let it go

“Please let me in,” Jack whispered against my neck. It wasn’t even a question as to whether I would or not.

So we

Can't break up now

“Come in, honey.. let’s sit down.” I held onto his hand as I ushered him in, tears streaming down both of our faces.

No, we

Can't break up now, oh

It was better to heal together than alone.

Can't break up now

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[mchlgayser]

ATTENTION WHORE!

starring: neymar x female!reader

warning/author's note: mention of a bitch trying to look like u- this is OBSESSION, neymar being sooo pissed off, not at you ofcz you're his babygworl 🥺 heavy cursing???? almost a fight scene. P.M.G ALERT ⚠️ 50% angst and 60% fluff, (no shit) I kinda hate it bcs it was chaotic not proofread

extra note: none. have a nice day xx

song suggestion: copycat by billie eilish

The call ended, you said goodbye to your boyfriend and he disconnected the call. Your head was against the pillow, eye boring on the dream catcher that hung outside your balcony, gazing as it sways left and right as the wind blew.

Just a minute ago, Ney woke you up from your beauty sleep with a call, he's practically reminding you about today's practice. He wants you to be there to watch him practice before a big game that was coming soon. After all you couldn't say no to him. You sat up stretching your joints and stood up to have a bath.

It was a long and warm bath, you had already readied a pair of clothing which is a black turtleneck along with a pair of oversized hoodies, you are wearing loose ripped pants and a G.A.P cap.

After five minutes, you are done putting on some light makeup and a pair of Nike air force. Finally, grabbing on your car key and left the room with your bag over your shoulder. One hand holding your phone and the necessity.

You get into your car and drive off to the venue where he'll be practicing.

-

It was a twenty minutes drive, minus the traffic as it was week day and parked your car on the vip basement parking lots. A few securities is guiding the site and you, with leisure walk to the entrance, one of them immediately recognized lets you in without questions but someone beat you to it. A girl in her mid-twenties, probably around your age, with hair in 'blonde' color, wavy curls coils, shoulders bumping against you. Her sharp eyes was on you the whole time but so were yours 'Yes?' She started with a harsh manner

You simply rolled your eyes at her 'I'm here for my boyfriend.' You said, eyes challenging. She scoffed 'Guards please take this delusional woman away!' She ushered but none of them budged 'Are you deaf?!' Sh yelled pointing her index finger out 'Now--'

She was cut off by a familiar voice of your boyfriend, he was running towards your direction 'Neymar--' The woman's eyes went wide, mouth agape upon seeing Neymar with arms around your body, your head hidden by his broad chest

'Sorry, I was't late was I?' You said pecking both of his cheeks and one final kiss in his lip 'No meu amor, you came right on time... Oh I see you met our new assistant manager.'

You gave the woman a nasty playful glare and give your boyfriend an innocent smile 'Yes, Let's go anjo, I wanna meet Kyky!' You implied to your friend, Kylian and he bobs

What you didn't know at the moment was a nasty, horrendous plan had come up to the woman's head. A creepy smile crept to her angel-liked features as she strutted back into her office room.

-

The next day, you came back again to the practice venue to see your boyfriend, you had also promised your friend, Kylian a fancy dinner with him today. You get in the lobby seeing a few staff eating brunch and some of them chit-chatting. You came upon your friend, Angela whom you meet months ago when she started working here and she was talking to the woman from last night.

They were intrigued with the talking until she sees you approaching 'Love, Meu Deus, how're you?!' She said, excusing herself and went to hug you, you gladly hugs her back 'Hello Angel, it's nice seeing you again!' The two of you broke the hug and the woman made her way beside Angela 'Nice meeting you again, miss Y/n' You eye her up and down and something, somewhere triggered in you. The way she's dressing. It was familiar, so oddly familiar.

Angela looks between her and you with wide eyes, she gasped 'Shit, haha Y/n, I forgot I got something to show you. It's regarding my sister's weds!' You get the hint obviously since Angela is an only child.

You hum and left with her 'You should've thinking what I'm thinking right now didn't you?!' Her voice is harsh and quiet, you half-shrugged 'Is it because she wears the same clothing I wore on your birthday party?'

She eagerly nods, you gulp the huge lump on the back of your throat 'It might be just a coincidence, I mean it can happens right?' She stopped you abruptly 'If going to your social media account to stalk you and copy you does it still means coincidence?' Your eyes was now on her, fully.

'How would you know anyway?'

She hid somewhere in the hall corner and whispered to you 'I sees her last night,' She backed away 'But she told me cus she find you pretty.' Now you didn't wanna come to any rushed decision and accuse her even though you know how shitty she was by the way she acted yesterday. You decided to set the conversation aside and just focus on today. Spending times with Ney and Kylian.

-

The practice ended, and both Ney and Kylian are now in the changing room to shower and change attires. You waited outside on the bench playing with your phone

'You are so cute Neymar!' You heard a voice approaching, you tilted your head back seeing Neymar, Kylian and Alexandria who you get to catch name is. She had an arm loosely wrapped around Ney's arm and she was laughing while Ky eyed her the whole time. You witness Ney getting uncomfortable by her constant touches so you decided to step up

'Hand to yourself please!' It didn't came out serious but playful. You stare up at her as she slowly lets go and let out a short awkward laugh 'Awh party pooper!' She mocked you.

You didn't said anything after that and let her be, Kylian told you that he's and Neymar are ready to leave. He had already reserved a table for you three and now was finally the time to leave the venue. Alexandria perks her ears at this 'You three are having dinner together? Cool can I tag along!' It wasn't a permission but an order. She wanted to come along

Both Kylian and Neymar didn't wasted a second and said no but your answer is a yes 'Sure.' You shrugged. Ney shot you a confused look but you held his hand tighter.

-

The food is placed down, and Alexandria is having her best time laughing and trying her best to get both Ney's and your friend's attention. Keyword, trying. Both of them didn't pay her any of that and instead acts like she doesn't even exist. You had to purse your lip most of the time to stop yourself from laughing out loud at her attempts.

'So Y/n what do you think if I dyed my hair (your hair color)? Do you think it'll suit me.' From the corner of your eye, you see Kylian uncomfortably shifting on his seat, you smile back at her, eyes creasing 'That'll look good, definitely!' She smirk and bobs her head up and down 'Great!'

The conversation goes on, and you unintentionally left Alexandria out of the conversation, joking around with your two best guys, some times eyeing her to see she's been playing with her food, head down and awkward.

'Don't remind me of that!' Ney complained at you, Kylian is laughing his ass off at the two of you 'That was legit hilarious! The fact that he, himself didn't notice it just makes it ten times funnier' He snorts.

Alexandria huffs loudly averting the two attentions on her 'You guys left me out' She pouted, grumbling incoherent words to act naturally cute, Ney faked a silent gag at that and you pushed him giving him a stern glare. This time he pouts mumbling stuff

Alexandria soon leave, Kylian following suit ten minutes later. You and Ney are still walking, taking a breather together at the park, hands in hands gazing on a starry night atmosphere 'Has Alexandria been giving you hard times?' You eyed up at him and let a small toothy grin 'Nah, not yet.'

'It's been almost half an hour, wanna go home?'

'Please...' He wrapped his arm around your shoulder directing you to the car and driving to your both's shared apartment.

-

Two days went by after that, and for that, you haven't come by once to the venue because of your hectic work. Ney is understanding so it wasn't much of a problem since you have already promised him to drop by today, your vehicle parked and you entered the place. It was empty only a few stuff passing by. The players must been practicing, you thought walking to the main field and as you strut you came across Alexandria. Oh how you felt like shit that day was. She had her hair in (your hair colour), wavy curls just like you did but it was slightly longer. You feel nothing but anger. Her heels too. She was wearing the same pair as you. The one Neymay got you on your birthday which is also the same date as you both anniversary.

She was smiling, walking up the tunnel towards you 'Oh what a coincidence, we look very similar today!' How badly you wanted to pluck those teeth of hers. That wicked smile never wore off of her face. That disgustingly beautiful hazel brown doe visions.

Two steps away from her and you scoff 'Aren't you looking stunning today? I hope you car got flat tyre in the middle of the wood.' You barked back at her intentionally bumping her shoulder against yours 'And, please... Stop being so fucking pathetic and go fuck yourself somewhere else, needy whore.' The sound of heels clicking against the floor clearly heard along with her rigid and fast breath. Her chest heaving up and down is a violent manner.

You saw Neymar doing two touches with his teammate as you seat on the bench and watch him practice, Alexandria came again taking a seat beside you 'Y'know, it was't so bad hearing you barked like a dog earlier, can't wait for it in the future.'

'What future? You'll get hit by a truck tonight.'

Never spare her a glance, you wave your hand at your boyfriend after making contacts, she swatted your hand down and Neymar who clearly sees everything are not exactly pleased by it.

You glare at her, taking her wrist in your arm and start squeezing it 'You really should stop pissing me off, I don't wanna get into a fight with a low life bitch like you.' didn't get the enough chance to dodge it, Alexandria placed a loud and hard slapped across your cheek 'Who's a bitch now huh?!' You exhaled a long sigh, putting your bag down and stood up towering over her small figure, your hand made its way to the back of hair as she yelps in pain, slapping your hands both telling you to stop but it all fell on deaf ears.

'I warned you. To stop. Being. A. Bitch.' Punctuated each words with an echoing slap. Neymar rushed to you pulling you away from her, she fell to her butt and cries, a few strands of her hair was on the palm of your hand, you cringed waving your hand to get it off 'It hurts you bitch!' She screamed, you scoff turning away from her, Neymar turns to her 'Now, don't call my amor that you filthy woman, I've keep up with you this whole time not for you to talk shit and call my girlfriend names, now even dressing up like her, dyeing your hair to look like her. You are delusional. You need helps.' Neymar bursted, eyes raging with pure anger and rage.

She sniffle, looking down on the floor 'You should just pack up your things and leave or we gonna make it harder for you.' Mbappe confessed in a playful state. She started scurrying like a mice bowing her head at you thousand times and left, running.

You moaned feeling relieved that she's finally left, right now all you wanted was to go home and rest. This is a long day after all. Neymar stay behind comforting you with kisses and hugs 'Do you wanna go home now minha princesa?' You gaze up on him 'Can't I?' Neymar did not wait a second and left with you afterwards.

[fagbearentertainment]

Genuine question,

What separates the Youtuber and the character they play in a SMP in your eyes?

Because as far as I can tell by watching some of them, the people involved in a SMP are just on average very talented at improv skits and prompts while playing Minecraft and other games.

This isn’t intended to be hateful, I’m just trying to see if they should be allowed in a tournament I’m opening submissions for in a few days.

(also don’t let the hate get to you, you’re doing great!)

It really just depends on the server

Like for example Dream Smp is a more roleplay oriented server that the creators on the server viewed as such. They referred to the characters they played as characters and talked about writing for them and stuff like that. It was more akin to a dnd session than just friends improving in minecraft for lols which is evident in the more lore heavy streams

A server like Hermitcraft however is a more complex case. Like I don’t really see it as a roleplay server bc it’s definitely more just friends goofing around most the time but I allowed submissions from it and it’s sister Traffic Life servers here bc lots of creators on it refer to the personas they play as characters and are ok with things like queer headcanons, iirc Grian included (could be wrong tho if he’s uncomfortable with stuff like that I’m very sorry /genuine)

Plus Grian has been on other roleplay heavy servers like Yandere High School, a fully roleplay minecraft series, and played obvious characters like Ariana Griande and all the Watcher!Grian implications from another server he was on (don’t think it was Hermitcraft but again could be wrong)

It’s really just a case by case basis. If you do allow mcyt servers just check each one and see how the creators on it talk about it

[eiraeths]

do you guys want some of my cod 141 headcanons you’re getting them anyways

SOAP

-puts stuff in his mouth a lot to hold it when he runs out of hands (this includes when he’s making explosives, it stresses everyone out)

-gets cute aggression and bites people

-will also bite in a fight

-has bits and pieces of rubble from explosions that he thought looked pretty

-is feral, like he takes a hit to the face during a spar and grins with blood trickling into his mouth

-had a graffiti phase as a teen that never fully left and because of it he writes in all capital letters. this is great when they need something written down where no one can read it. (the 141 probably had a meeting where they went over how to read his handwriting)

-has dreams so realistic he wakes up confused wondering if it was a memory he forgot about even if it didn’t make sense

-military grade anger issues

-never fully grew out of his punk phase

-his childhood room was full of road signs and traffic cones

-is actually a hardass when it comes to training recruits (i think the proper term for privates in the sas is troopers but im calling them recruits cause that seems to be the term everyone uses)(everyone thought his bright attitude meant that he’s laid back and easygoing. no. he’s not. yall ever seen those videos of drill sergeants coming up with the most creative insults? thats him)

-randomly says “i am normal and can be trusted around military grade weapons”

-his journal from the og games is a must in the remaster sorry i don’t make the rules

GHOST

-can play guitar super fucking well, im talking full on fingerstyle ballads

-major staring problem, if he doesn’t want to talk to someone he’ll stare until they go away. sometimes stares at people for no reason. also stares when he wants something. he’s always watching.

-would be interested in getting into blacksmithing if he didn’t grow up poor and hates spending money on himself that isn’t out of necessity (seriously you need like 30k to start a forge)

-can and will obsess over damascus patterns in blades (i feel like his favorite pattern would be fish bone or those really complicated mosaic patterns. he gets soap into it too by showing him fireball patterns)

-never grew out of echolalia and because of this is amazing at mimicking noises (he mimicks smoke alarm battery low noises and phone chimes to troll people sometimes.)

-road rage, but its quiet fuming comments that make you grip the oh shit handle for dear life (“you better turn off your fucking highbeams or i can’t be blamed for the head on collision that’s about to happen”)(no one can tell if he’s serious or not)

-hates tin foil, hearing it or touching it makes him clench his jaw because it feels like he can feel it in his teeth

-secret sweet tooth, but it comes and goes. sometimes he’s disgusted by anything sweeter than white bread and other times he can fuck up an entire box of lil debbie cakes

-can hand sew efficiently and fast as fuck

-his favorite type of blanket is a heavy quilt

GAZ

-is aggressively hydrated and is one of those people who carry around those big 128 oz water bottles

-gets competitive over karaoke (it took him months to convince everyone to join and he only got the idea after finding out soap wanted to be in a band as a teen and that he spent days learning how to properly vocal fry)

-says WOO! when he’s super fucking excited (will throw his arms up as well if soap is around because the two of them are an echo chamber of emotion)(the WOO! might actually be canon theres a voice line in warzone)

-probably the most up to date on modern fashion trends (get this man a long cashmere coat he deserves it)

-he does own a bedazzled cap he found at a gas station though (it’s hideous)

-elaborate skin care routine (he’s conned everyone to have some sort of routine. especially ghost. he got so concerned when it hit him that ghost was always wearing the eyeblack)

PRICE

-listens to black label society (i won’t budge on this its not even a head canon to me anymore its fact it was revealed to me in a dream)

-plays solitaire (he’s a very high level and it took him less than a year to get there. no one knows where he found the time to play for that long)

-drives a manual and shames people who don’t know how to work a stick

-literature nerd (im talking all the classics and philosophy books this man can get his hands on)

-discovered tennessee moonshine and has thought about it ever since

-smacks people on the back of the head when they’re doing something stupid

-if anyone makes a negative comment on his facial hair he gives them the dirtiest side eye

GEN/MULTI

-gaz and soap carry those big contractor waterproof sharpies and leave gaz was here or soap was here everywhere they go (this stemmed from soap’s graffiti phase and gaz turned it into a competition. they once got into a competition on who could leave the most signs until price called them muppets and confiscated their sharpies)

-ghost put soap in air jail once, it was very effective

-gaz and soap go to the gym together and take photos in the mirrors after they’re done (somewhere there’s a photo of the time they got ghost to join and they even got him to flex an arm)

-ghost and soap are professional assholes to each other.

-none of the 141 are allowed play card games and gamble with each other because they’re all dirty charlatans

-price tried to stop smoking only once and carried around gum and peppermints. ghost stole the peppermints and soap wouldn’t stop asking for gum

-gaz and ghost are the only ones who really try to adhere to the lights out rule. price and soap can be seen drinking coffee throughout the day

-all of them can hold a grudge for life

-ghost clears his throat loudly when any of them smoke by him. or stares. depends on the say

-if any of the smokers see another outside smoking and decides to join them it turns into a drawn out conversation about the most mundane topics

-the 141 can have full conversations of pure sarcasm nons

[azen13]

To Gaze at Polaris

Description: After you manage to escape Jing Yuan's home, the General chases after you to Aurum Alley, intent on bringing you back.

CW: Yandere Themes, Non-Sexual Nudity, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Bathing Together

Pairing: Yandere!Jing Yuan x GN!Reader

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It is a cold night on the Luofu when Jing Yuan strides through Aurum Alley.

By this time, all the shops, restaurants, and homes have gone dark. There is the faraway din of starskiff traffic, and the quiet buzz of cicadas in the moonlit neighborhood. As he walks through alleys lingering with the scent of day–the smell of tea leaves in particular lingers in his nose–there are no signs of you.

You are good at this, Jing Yuan thinks sadly. He wishes you weren’t.

“Y/N,” Jing Yuan calls quietly, though his voice carries. He does not need to be loud or aggressive to have a presence. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” 

There is no response.

He sighs. There is no anger in his voice, no vitriol or rage. Jing Yuan–as you have learned by now–is not prone to fits. In fact you’ve never seen him mad, or without at least a fleeting trace of a smile on his face; it's as if he was blessed by Aha THEMSELF. Because whenever he sees you he cannot help but feel light glimmering in his heart like starlight, making it bloom like pink morning glories. They have tender stems, delicate petals and grow in soil that is rocky and dry, but they are growing nonetheless, guided by your light.

He enters a different alley knowing you are hiding in the dumpster. Trivial really, but impressive nonetheless. Your determination is one of the things that attracts him to you most. It is a double edged sword. It comes in various shades and hues. He sees it in your eyes when he challenges you to a friendly game of Star Chess. Or when you’re cooking a new dish.

Or when you are shouting insults at him like if you curse him enough, you can make him disappear. In a way, it has the opposite effect. Every time you sob and plead he coos and reaches out for you, pulls you in tighter with comforting embraces and sweet, cloying words. 

For a few moments, he simply stands there. A part of him wishes that you would just come out. His footsteps are perfectly audible, and you are entirely perceptive enough to know that he has stopped in front of the alleyway. You know that he is there, waiting for you to surrender to his comfort and charm.

But you don’t. 

It drapes his heart in darkness, those flowers wilting when you don’t. He steps forward slowly, eyes fixed on the dumpster, his expression forlorn. “Dearest…please come out. I won’t hurt you.” It’s a promise, and it is one he cannot break. He hates seeing you in pain. He loves your smile. It is radiant in an infinite number of ways: the upturned quirk of your lips; the soft crinkling of your eyes; the way your irises seem to glow. You are a star of glass in his hands, and he is afraid he has shattered you.

But, he thinks, as he continues his slow conquest forward, nearing the dumpster, would that be so horrible? 

His mind flashes to the art of repairing broken pottery–kintsugi–where broken pieces are glued together with a lacquer mixed with gold powder; it is not meant to not hide where the breaks have occurred, but allow them to shine. He could bring you back together, multiply your luminescence by a thousand suns, and he would want you even more. The flowers in his heart would grow and bloom until his veins have become xylem and his tissues petals, every cell in him wanting your light. Craving it. Needing it.

When his hands–gentle and calloused from centuries of spars and fights–lift you from the dirty dumpster, you scream and wriggle in his tight embrace. His heart is flooded by rainstorms, flooding the flowers.

It has been raining for countless months. It feels like dying.

“Shh…it is alright my love,” he murmurs, his arms squeezing tighter around your torso; it’s not enough force to hurt you or bruise you, but enough to keep your squirming contained. “Let’s return home. I think this has been…enough excitement for one night.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He runs you a bath. You smell like trash now, and that won’t do. He wants the best for you. The best food, the best clothes, the best life. Because when he sees your happiness, even if it is as ephemeral as a shooting star, it rejuvenates his soul. 

The gentle smell of jasmine fills the bathroom as he quietly works shampoo into your hair. By now, you have lost the battle. Is it a sacrifice, though? Or have you truly blundered a piece away on this grand chessboard? Jing Yuan has played you enough times to know your strategies and tactics, the most inner machinations of your mind. You lose to him every time, but always put up a good fight. He hopes that pattern holds true for this game you and him seem to be playing every waking moment.

Water cupped in his hands is brought to your head, washing the suds out of your luxurious hair. Gentle kisses are peppered on your bare shoulders and neck, before his hands reach to massage your shoulder blades. This is what Jing Yuan longs for: days spent in pure domestic bliss. The kind of sunlit silence that leaves him warm and sleepy, craving an afternoon nap next to his lover.

He hums a song. You lean a little more against him, exhausted from your little escapade. He smiles, careful not to chuckle, lest he scares you away like one of his sparrows. Later, perhaps in the morning Jing Yuan will have a conversation with you about this. But for now he is content to enjoy this honeyed moment, bathing in your incandescence, enjoying these brief moments of sunlight before the deluge begins again.

When your fingers start to wrinkle like prunes from the water and your eyes are beginning to droop, he knows it is bedtime. He wraps you up in a fluffy towel, letting you get ready for bed as he does the same; his eyes watchful but fond as he brushes his teeth and lets his hair out of its usual ponytail. Searching for the first signs of wind picking up or darkening skies.

The two of you cuddle in bed, though it’s more like Jing Yuan cuddles you, and you tolerate his embrace. His arms wrap around you, loose enough not to hurt but tight enough to anchor him around you. Drift too far away again, and Jing Yuan doesn’t know if he can recover. He needs you. 

He is tired, too. But he is tired in a different way. His fatigue is like that of a mountain carved in twain by the river of time. One day, both sides of that once-mighty peak will collapse. But you give him strength. You are his guiding light. His North Star. His sun. His Polaris.

His breathing begins to even out and he pulls you closer against him, sweet dreams of you and him begin to dance behind his eyelids. Hopefully, he thinks as he lets himself slip into slumber, one day you will forgive him for ripping you from the sky and placing you in his chest, in the space right next to his heart.

[minustwofingers]

love is a laserquest p.1

masterlist

pairing: rockstar!ellie williams x reader

request: @thatgiraffefromtlou so kindly included me on a post about writing something inspired by these beautiful edits :) thank you !

summary: after a serious of unfortunate events, columbia grad y/n y/l/n finds herself using her hard-earned journalism degree interviewing vapid stars and writing articles that she's convinced are rotting her mind. ellie williams has just dropped the album of the year and it's all anyone is talking about, but all she wants is to be off the press train. a certain interview with a certain interviewer might change this.

warnings: no cws, but i will say that i don't know anything about this career path so i apologize if i'm totally butchering it!

a/n: see ? see? i promise i haven't forgotten about you guys/this blog/this request. this is admittedly a short installment, but you've all been so good about waiting and i had a little itch to write tonight. hopefully more of this will be posted soon. i hope you enjoy!

tags :) @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl​ @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28

wc: 1.8k

enjoy!

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” 

You sit and extend your hand, smiling as diplomatically as you can manage to the girl sitting across from you. 

She ignores you.

“I said hi,” you repeat.

One painted eyebrow arches the slightest, but she doesn’t look your way. 

You grit your teeth. A question list that you’ve meticulously prepared is memorized and tucked away in your mind, but now you’re just furious that you spent so much time preparing for an interview with someone who wouldn’t even look you in the eye. 

While you wait for the camera crew to get ready, you sit and observe the room—movie posters behind both you and Lina, bright lights that are already making you sweat shone down from above, and a homey oak wood coffee table between you two to give the air of casualness. 

God, you hate this. All you want to do is go home. 

“Ready?” a cameraman says from the side. 

You send a game smile his way. “Ready.”

“We’re rolling.”

“Hi!” said the girl across from you, suddenly laser-focusing her attention on you with so much bubbly energy that it made you feel like you’d gotten whiplash. “It’s so good to meet you. I’m so glad that we were able to do this.”

“Me too,” you respond, saccharine sweet. “You have no idea how excited we are to have you, Lina! It seems like all anyone wants to talk about nowadays is your role in Ontario.”

The interview’s length is oppressive and mind-numbing. By the time you ask your last question and Lina sends you her last dazzling smile, you’re already on the brink of offing yourself on the camera for all to see.

“And cut,” said someone over your shoulder.

You relax, letting out a long breath. That was the last one for the day. You got to go home now.

But since you were a normal human being, you give Lina one last try to redeem herself.

“It was great having you,” you say in a way that you hope reads as genuine. “Thank you for coming in.” 

Lina doesn’t respond—she’s already back on her phone, intent on ignoring you. 

The drive home is awful and long and full of LA traffic. It was something you’d never quite forgive your younger self for—not advocating for yourself sooner. If you had, maybe you would’ve already been taking the subway alongside all the other New Yorkers, surrounded by serious people wearing serious clothes and carrying serious things around in their briefcase.

Instead you got the quirkiness of Southern California, all arid air full of cigarette smoke and lost aspirations. When you first came to LA, naive and blithely optimistic about your prospects as a journalist, you thought that living near Hollywood would be exciting, all the energy and dreams like firecrackers to the social scene. 

Then you got off the plane and realized it’d all been a lie. There’s no hope in a place like Hollywood. It’s the most hopeless place in the world, knowing that all your servers and Uber drivers and retail employees are all working 3 other jobs to make up their rent as they chase a dream that will never happen. 

Because no one ever makes it big. Well—no one really. One year into your life at PopNow! has made you interact with more people who have, you suppose, “made it big”, and each interaction is dependably more absurd than the last. Like Lina. God, you hate Lina. 

You reach your apartment right when the sun is kissing the horizon, the royal purple of the night descending upon the sky. That was another thing you missed—the stars. You’d missed them when you were at Columbia, but that was when you knew you went back home to the midwestern countryside. Now you’re stuck in the light-polluted hell of California, and there’s no way to know when you’re going to get out. 

You should have turned the job down, you think to yourself as you get ready for bed. The face wash you rub into your skin obediently forms into silky little bubbles. You should have just done whatever you’d had to do to stay in New York, even if it meant being unemployed and living in a broom closet with 3 other people. 

But you’re a writer. And you’re getting published, and that’s all that matters.

Or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

~

The assignment is in your inbox when you wake up the next morning at a prompt 5:30am. As you go about your normal routine, you let the words in the message sink in.

Alyssa’s in the hospital. Emergency appendectomy. 

Alyssa’s the most senior writer at PopNow!, regularly netting the juiciest recorded interviews. 

…interview today that needs to be completed…

You angrily beat your legs back into scissor kicks as you run through the motions of your favorite apartment-friendly pilates routine. Today was supposed to be your day off.

…musician Ellie Williams…

…2pm…

…great opportunity…

You have no fucking clue who Ellie Williams is. She’s never been mentioned on NPR or the New York Times, the only two news sources you bother to follow, so she can’t be that relevant. Or at least not relevant enough to warrant you losing your one day off. But that’s what it’s like to be working in showbiz. Your days don’t belong to you anymore. 

By the time that you’re in the studio, hands folded and question list memorized, you feel like you know all you need to know about Ellie. 

She’s got everything you need to be a world-wide sensation. Humble, small-town beginnings? Check. Sympathetic backstory that makes even the most hardened viewer’s heart soften? Check. Conveniently conventionally attractive features, well-placed tattoos, and a certain swagger that seems so natural it has to be somehow hard-coded into her genes? Check, check, and check.

You’ve interviewed hundreds of Ellie Williams. You’re ready for this. 

Jan from production sets out glasses of water on the table in front of you, one for you and another poised in front of the empty chair.

“You ready?” she asks, not unkindly. “Don’t be nervous. I know that this might be a bigger one than you’re used to, but there’s a reason why Stephen asked you to fill in for Alyssa. You’ve got this, honey.”

“Thank you,” you say. The smile you send her back is tense, because as much as you hate to admit it, you are nervous. It’s ridiculous how something you don’t even care about for an industry you think is bullshit is capable of getting under your skin, but you’d done very few recorded interviews. When you imagined what kind of hard-hitting journalism you’d be doing back when you were at Columbia, it was nothing like this. 

You sit and wait, bouncing your leg and hoping the rest of you looks at ease. The set is as corny and soulless as always, one tall houseplant shoved half-heartedly between the two blue cushioned chairs like an afterthought. There’s a stack of magazines on the coffee table between you two, as if you’d crack open People mid-shot.

You hate your job so much. You always feel so bad thinking this way—there are people out there who would probably actually kill for the chance to be rubbing elbows with the celebrities you did on a regular basis—but whenever you start feeling too guilty, you think of how you ended up here, your dream internship getting whisked away by fucking nepo baby Becca, and then you let yourself be angry again. 

A door slams shut, and suddenly you’re all business again. 

The first thing you notice about Ellie Williams is that she’s actually very tiny, especially in comparison to the burly camera man that she squeezes by to make her way on set. She’s looking a little preppier than she does on stage, donning a pair of wide-legged black trousers, chunky black docs, and a haphazardly buttoned forest green shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough for you to see the entirety of her arm tattoo. 

“Hi.” You rise from your chair to offer a hand, feel the pressure of her fingers gently gripping yours. “I’m Y/N.”

Ellie blinks. “Uh, hi. I’m Ellie.” 

“Is everything alright?” 

“I thought Alyssa was going to be interviewing me,” says Ellie. She drops into the chair opposite of you, crossing a leg over the other thigh.

“Emergency appendectomy,” you supply.

The way Ellie reacts makes you regret this immediately. 

“Oh,” she says, cringing. “Shit—oh, can I swear in here?”

“We’re not rolling yet,” you say gently. 

“That’s, uh, really too bad,” she says. Her tattooed hand reaches up to scrub the back of her neck. “I’m so sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to blink and stare at her blankly. “Um, thanks? I don’t really know her.”

“Right, right.” Ellie lets out a long sigh that you take as an offense. The interview hasn’t even started, and the languid way she reclines back in the chair reads as already bored with you. “So, do we just go ahead and…”

“Yes,” you say, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Uh, yeah, we’re ready.”

Brilliant start.

The interview begins in earnest, and for once in your life, you’re actually rattled by this girl, by the way she tilts her head at your questions, tongue running over the flat of her front teeth. She has freckles sprinkled across her nose that didn’t show up in any of the photos you’ve seen of her on stage. The ones where she’s awash in blue light, guitar slung over her shoulder and hair sticking to her forehead. It’s disquieting, honestly, how she could just spring a surprise like that on you. 

By some miracle, you manage to get through your list of questions without forgetting anything, but sometimes you stutter on your delivery and have to fight to keep yourself from grimacing. Nothing that she tells you is ground-breaking, nothing you don’t already know. In other interviews, you’re normally able to slip into a sort of conspiratorial voice, prying out information and digging a little deeper than your interviewees intend. But with Ellie, you’re paralyzed, stuck straight to the script that had been sent over to Ellie’s publicist for approval. 

Not like you’d get away with anything when it came to Ellie, either. She has bags under her eyes that you can see concealer creasing in. It’ll wash out post-production under the bright studio lights, but up close it’s obvious that she’s not interested in entertaining any bullshit. 

When it’s over, you’re sure your face is on fire with how hot your cheeks feel. Ellie looks just as nonplussed as ever. 

“It was nice to meet you,” you squeak out. 

She takes her time answering you, busy with draining the glass of water Jan had set out in front of you both and, once it’s empty, fiddling with the buttons on her sleeves. 

“Likewise,” she says, and then before you can think to say anything else, she’s gone. 

[org4n-failur3]

The Dylann Roof case- In Depth

I DO NOT SUPPORT. THIS IS INFORMATIONAL!

Pls reblog incase I get trmed!

Dylann was born April 3rd 1994 to mother Amelia and father Franklin with 2 sisters Amber and Morgan. During early childhood his parents would divorce and his father would later remarry. His stepmother accused his father of abüse. He would beg his step mother to let him live with her but she wasn’t able to. Dylann would be described to have obsessive compulsive tendencies with germs. In middle school he would stop caring about school and started smoking weed and drinking vodka. In nine years he would have attended seven schools. In 2010 he would drop out of Highschool and continue playing video games and smoking weed and drinking.

In 2015 he was caught with an invalid prescription for suboxone at a mall to which he was banned from for a year. Later that year he was caught loitering in the mall to which they searched his car finding a forearm grip for a AR-15 semiautomatic rifle and six unloaded magazines capable of holding 40 rounds each but was let off it was legal in the state. Roofs Suboxone charge was mishandled and a system error took it as a misdemeanour instead of a felony. Which would have possibly prohibited him from purchasing the firearm.

Later Dylann would look into the Trayvon Martin case and from an unknown article concluded Zimmerman was in the right. He then fell down a rabbit hole of black on white crime and misinformation. He then found 4chan and would find even more misinformation and hard right ideologies Dylann states he hasn’t been the same since that day. Which leads to his manifesto titled ‘The last Rhodesian’ Rhodesia being the African state founded in 1965 ran by primary Europeans and a white supr3macy ideology before being abolished in 1979. The term now sticks with white supremac!sts like Dylann had became, as he also used the flag on his jacket. In preparation before the attack he looked up black churches and found the Emanuel Methodist Episcopal Church and would scout the area and ask around about mass times.

June 15th 2015 somewhere around 8:00pm Dylann entered the church, once he did he was greeted by Rev.Pinckney and given a bible to study with. Roof was sat next to Pinckney as the study continued. As the study closed and the ending pray started Roof stood up and pulled out his Gl0ck 41 .45 calibre handgûn and began sh00ting. Killing Pinckney first. Then 26 year old Tywanza Sanders stood up to plead with Dylann before he said ‘I have to do it. You r4p3 our women and you’re taking over our country and you have to go’ he then wh0re and k!lled Sharonda Singleton, Dr. Daniel L. Simmons, Ethel Lee Lance, Cynthia Hurd, Myra Tompson and Tywanza Sanders. Dylann would reload 5 times that day. Polly Shepherd was spared when he asked her if he shot her yet to which she replied no he then told her ‘good cause we need someone to survive because I’m gonna sh00t myself and you’ll be the only survivor. He then turned the gûn on himself realizing he was out of ammo. He then left the church to the surprise there wasn’t anyone outside. The next day the police confirmed the gûnman was 21 year old Dylann Roof with witnesses reporting they saw him drive towards Shelby, a town close to Charleston. At 10:44am Roof was arrested at a traffic stop in Shelby where it was then confirmed he worked alone.

Five days after the sh00ting the grand jury announced that Roof was being indicted for 33 federal charges.

12 counts hate crime against black people

12 counts obstructing the exercise of religion

9 counts mûrd3r using a firearm.

On June 6th Roof reportedly did not want to be trialed by jury and instead let the judge decide if he was guilty and if the d3ath penalty was reasonable. August 23rd Roofs lawyers called the motion of d3ath penalty unconstitutional and asked to reject the motion. On September 1st an on camera hearing was held in case of outbursts. December 7th 2016 the trial started. During a survivor statement Roofs mom collapsed as she had a heart attack. After 3 days of the trial FBI played a video on which he admitted to laughing and drinking while describing to friends how he’d sh00t the church. To which his friend didn’t report to police and said he was drunk and took his keys and gl0ck that was on him. After 2 hours the jury found him guilty on all 33 charges. Roof wanting to plead guilty but told not to by lawyers.

January 10th 2027 Roof was sentenced to d3ath penalty, and d3ath by lethal injection.

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NOTE: if I get anything wrong please tell me! This was from an old project I had.

-Vivi