#I’m leaving my choices open but like urgh fuck off

[willkimurashat]

Bitch!😤

[bravo4iscool]

Levi Baby🖤

The way I adore you for pairing Simon with a Chubby girl. I bring a thot to you if you're interested:

Bodyguard!Simon Ghost Riley x chubby f!reader

- He's newly retired , gets asked for a favor from Price for a friend's kid

- Said kid is a mid 20's thicc woman who is all business since she's a lawyer in Human Rights and involved with the UN.

- He thinks she's going to be a snob based off looks bc girl loves to dress and she does it well, she observes Simon as he is. Brooding, Haunted and Self Assureed with a drizzle of dark humor but loyal.

- They get off on the wrong foot [Simon was being an irrational ass forgetting his manners and respect], reader isn't scared of him and doesn't take lightly to being disrespect3d for no apparent reason.

- They're holed up living together under the radar since the thr3at to reader was pretty big seeing it was world leaders

- They're going to have to learn to live with each other, where Simon barks orders - reader is anamused and calmly condescends. He can't even get annoyed bc she's antisocial and a houseplant but he's trying

- doesn't help that he's so.so attracted to her.

*make this as suggestive as you want (give ghost heart attacks with her choice of home clothes please. We know he's touch straved, emotionally constipated and needed a therap session.

Make her stress him out by confronting all of that in her short fiery demon way please.

I hope your new year is sweet Love💋

oh lord. oH LORD. how can you write this and not think about me fainting😭 THIS IS- URGH- AMAZING AHHHQGACQGQVQZQZAVQ!!!!

i hope i can do this justice😭 normally i try to imitate simon’s accent but bro… i was just too tired to do it now, so i hope you can forgive me for that🥲

KEEP HITING ME WITH STUFF LIKE THIS OH MY GOD😩

not really happy but i tried my best :) also not proof-read!

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

“There’s no but’s!” Simon argues while almost dragging you—his protégée—along the hallway inside the safe house. “You’re in danger and it’s my job to protect you!”

“I’ve been perfectly fine on my own before,” you argue, trying your best to wriggle away from his grip. You hated it when he manhandled like that.

He turns around, his eyes fiercely staring down at you and you feel like they’re piercing through your soul. “Have you ever had the Taliban threaten you, huh? Or fucking ISIS? I don’t think so; so stop whining and follow me!”

You want to argue with him, tell him he’s not allowed to talk to you that way but damn, you knew he was right. Ever since you started working for the UN you’ve been threatened—you were getting used to it—but only by small groups not someone like the Taliban.

“We’re gonna stay here until the threat is eliminated for not serious anymore.” His statement leaves little room to argue but you’re itching to say something anyway. It’s wasn’t your nature to just shut up. You were a lawyer, you were used to arguing.

You grimace as you force yourself to accept your fate. You didn’t want to but in the end you knew Simon was right. So, you follow him, an annoyed look on your face. You hated it when he was right.

“It’s only temporary,” he grumbles as he kicks a door open and pushes you inside. “It’s not like I want it, okay?”

You only roll your eyes, throwing a halfhearted ‘whatever’ at him and inspecting the room he hauled you into. “This is where I’m gonna stay?” you ask him, a slight hint of defeat in your voice.

“Pretty much, yes. I’ll be on the other side of the hallway,” he explains, leaning against the door frame. “In case anything happened, of course,” he immediately adds; just so you don’t get a…wrong picture of this whole thing here.

“We got wifi here?” is you next questions when you turn to look at him, your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“No wifi. No contact to the outer world,” is his answer and you feel your blood start to boil.

“You have to be kidding me! How am I supposed to work then?” You throw your hands in the air, letting out an angry huff. “You can’t just cut me off civilisation!”

He only shrugs. “I can and I will. Work can wait, alright? Your life is more important now.” Again his voice leaves no room to argue but this time you won’t take it. You put your hands on your hips, looking up at him.

“You think that’s how it works? Then, please Lieutenant Riley,” you spit out his rank “fly over to the dozens of war criminals and tell them to stop too! Oh wait-“ you act shocked. “That’s not how it fucking works! You can’t expect me to sit still and look pretty while the world drowns in injustice!”

“Would make things a lot easier tho,” he mumbles under his breath while pushing himself off the door frame. “Just…do something that doesn’t require wifi or anything like that, alright?” Before you can even think of an answer he leaves, shutting the door behind him. Why the hell was he treating like some little child?

~

“How old is she?” Simon wants to know as he hands his old Captain the picture of you back. He’s sat on a chair, his legs spread, one arm resting on the back rest.

“Mid 20s,” Price answers, placing his folded hands onto the table. “She needs security and her father’s not really…trusting the usual companies; and since you’re nearly retired I thought you could use the job.” Simon holds Price’s gaze and nods along. “He trusts me, therefore he trusts you. She’s a lawyer, heavily associated and involved with the UN and human rights.”

“What are the details?” Simon slightly tilts his head, curiously raising his eyebrows.”

“24/7 protection. The full package. You’ve done it before,” Price explains and Simon once again nods along. “Before you take the job tho-“ he pauses. “She’s, well… she’s a lawyer Simon. You need to know what you get into.” The Captains gaze hardens, his back straightening. “She won’t like that she’s on protection detail, therefore she’ll be treating you like that.”

Simon only smirks, flipping his well kept coin between his fingers. “There’s nothing I can’t handle John. I’ve met people like that before and I was perfectly fine.”

Now Price was the one smirking while shaking his head. “I know and I don’t question your abilities but she’s a civilian—the one you’re protecting. You can’t handle this the way you’ve handled other subjects before.”

“I know what I’m getting into,” Simon assures in a calm tone definitely not knowing what he was getting himself into.

~

“Fucking hell,” Simon mutters when he first sees you. You’re walking straight to you office—the one he was sitting in—involved in a heated talk with that seemed like your secretary.

He’s able to make out single words but well, his hearing wasn’t the best anymore after nearly 20 years of military service. And now he thinks he probably should’ve stayed in the field.

The way you’re waking and talking and dressing just screams ‘snob’ at him. He slightly lowers his head to gaze at you, once again playing with his coin. Maybe he should’ve declined the offer and taken on the underground wrestling instead. Would’ve been more fun for sure.

As soon as you spot your guest you send your secretary away, bracing yourself for the following conversation. You weren’t a fan of getting security and you definitely weren’t a fan of the fact that it was a friend of your father’s friend and he—apparently—was everything but easy.

“Lieutenant Riley,” you greet him, extending your hand to him. When he stands up to his full height you slightly crane your neck; the professional smile still on your face.

“Ma’am,” he greets in a gruff voice, the skin of his hand raw and calloused as he return the handshake. “Pleased to meet you.” He isn’t. He just wants to leave but he brought this on himself so he needs to finish it now. ‘One year’, he told himself. ‘Then I can quit.’

“I can only return the pleasure,” you smile, clearing your throat. “Would you mind sitting down at my desk?” You ask, pointing towards said desk. “I think it’s easier to discuss business over there.”

Simon agrees, towering over you as he makes his way over to one of the chairs in front of the desk. You take place behind it, carefully straightening your blouse. He needs to warn himself not to stare. Fuck, why were you so pretty? A pretty little snob…

~

“This has to be taken seriously!” Simon raises his voice at you, successfully blocking the door of your office.

“This is nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you argue with him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “So please, Simon, let me get out of my office and back to work.”

He huffs, “Not a change. You’ll be staying here until the threat is cleared.” He glances over his shoulder, loving and hating the fact that you had a glass office. “Are these bullet prove?” he asks, looking at you again.

You sigh, “No.”

“We’ll have that changed,” he immediately answers and you start to shake your head.

“We’ll have nothing changed! You weren’t hired to renovate my office!” You walk towards him. “Now, Mr. Riley, please step aside so I can continue working.”

“Not happening.” He straightens up to his full height, expecting you to back off but you do the exact opposite. You swat your finger at him, looking up.

“I don’t care what you think, you will stay here; if you want it or not.” His voice is stern and stoic and you need to do your best to not full on scream at him.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” you hiss, your index finger jabbing his chest. “I can make my own decisions, I’m a responsible adult. So don’t you dare talk down to me that way!”

When Simon doesn’t make a move you let out an angry huff and shake your head. Then you turn away and stalk towards your desk. “Fucking military man,” you curse under your breath, ignoring the way he stared you down.

~

You stare at your open suitcase, debating what to wear. On the one hand, you kinda were on your own, on the other hand, Simon was with you.

You were comfortable in your body—no question—you actually kinda liked the extra cushions but sometimes you felt like Simon was staring at you. Like he wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you and that made you…feel something. Something you were afraid of.

“Ah fuck it,” you say under your breath, fishing out some shorts and a shirt. You could care less about what Simon thinks. You both are only work related. Nothing else.

You tap down the stairs, walking straight into the kitchen. “You want something to eat?” You ask Simon, glancing at him when you hear him enter.

“You willing to make some?” he jokes, expecting you to say ‘no’ but when you say ‘yes’ his eyes widen and he pauses for a second. When you notice it you let out a small chuckle, opening the fridge and multiple cabinets to see what you could make.

“Any friends that’ll miss you?” he asks once you place a plate in front of him, looking up at you with curious eyes.

You shake your head, “Nope. Not really.” You sit down opposite of him, grabbing your fork. “Too busy to have friends.”

He tilts his head, blindly picking up the food either his fork. “No boyfriend?” He knows you don’t have one. You have no dates, no flings, nothing; but he wants to hear it from you. Maybe then his fantasies wouldn’t be so forbidden…

“Please,” you laugh. “We’d be divorced before we even married.” You take a sip of water and look at him. “I don’t have time for relationships and that kind of stuff. I have a target to pursue. Ain’t no time for distraction.”

He only nods in an understanding manner, playing with his beer bottle. “And you?” you ask. “You got someone?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve got you to deal with. That’s enough.” He smirks when he sees your facial expression, letting out a low chuckle. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for,” he continues joking. “But no. I don’t have anyone. Never really had.”

“Oh…” you say in an almost pitiful tone and he hates it. It not that he couldn’t get someone. He just didn’t want to. That’s a big difference. “Well not really different for me,” you then snort, slightly grimacing. You had this one guy ask you out for prom but that turned out to be a bet rather fast and after than you decided to not to date in school or university anymore.

Yeah sure, you were more chubby than other girls but that doesn’t mean that you’re not lovable, right? By now you were comfortable in your body—you were in your mid 20’s—but sometimes you felt yourself slipping back into the insecure girl you once were. The one who thought that no man would ever lay his eyes on her in a lustful or loving manner.

Simon’s itching to say something; to ask why you don’t have anyone… You’re perfect. You’re nice—even if he hated to admit it. You’re pretty, you’re so fucking soft… Did the men around you not see that?

“Simon?” You wave your hand around in front of his face, chuckling when he slightly flinches, his pupils blow. “Are you alright?” you carefully ask, eying him as if something was wrong.

But he only clears his throat, “Yes. Everything’s fine.” Then he hastily stands up and nods at you. “Thank you for the food.”

You watch after him as he leaves, a frown on your face. Was he really okay or was he just lying to you?

Simon on the other hand was probably turning red as a tomato. How could he allow himself to slip like that? Fuck, he needed to keep himself better under control.

As soon as he reaches his room he shuts the door and leans against it while opening his pants with shaking hands.

He had a—growing—problem and he needed take care of it. Now.

-

Approximately one week into the lockdown Simon finds you in the living room, crouched over a bunch of files and documents.

“What’s that?” he wants to know, looking over your shoulder.

“Work,” you simply reply, taking notes and pushing the papers around. You were so close, this close to finally finish this case but something was missing and it stressed you out.

He slowly nods, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And how did you manage to get these files?”

“I’m a lawyer Simon. I have my ways and connections,” is your plain answer and you can basically feel him tensing behind you.

“What if they give away your location,”

“They won’t.”

“How can you be sure?” He tries his best to be calm but god, you were testing his nerves. He gave you strict orders and you were supposed to follow them.

You turn around with an annoyed sigh, looking up at him. “Because my father brought me those. You think he would sell me out to the enemy? I doubt so.”

You raise your eyebrow, waiting for any other complaint by him but be only looks at the files behind you, then at you again. “Maybe check the mission reports of the special forces.” With that he leaves you alone, more than confused.

You know why Simon told you what he told you when you find what you need exactly there. The mission reports were sitting somewhere beneath everything else because you didn’t pay much attention to them; in the end they were the solution.

Now you could finally link the crimes to someone and with that to the government or the military at least.

The next time you see Simon you almost jump into his arms, thanking him over and over again. “Now the case is finally closed,” you tell him with a big grin on your face, completely forgetting that you’re usually not so happy when around him.

Simon just awkwardly pats your back, pushing you off him and ignoring the burning desire deep within him. He knew it was risky to give you a tip but you were struggling and he didn‘t like that. He just hoped that you wouldn’t ask him why he knew that you should look at the mission reports. Once you knew that he was a war criminal this job would be over. And while you certainly were a pain in the ass sometimes he felt a very present attraction towards you.

-

Simon realises he’s a goner when he wakes up one morning and sees you walking around in a shirt. Just a shirt, as far as he can see and it does something to you. His hands are itching to touch you and he finds himself excusing himself more and more to the bathroom.

And you? You started to notice the kind of power you have over him and it makes you boast with pride. You, a chubby little lawyer in your mid 20s, has him, an almost 40 year old retired military Lieutenant, wrapped around your little finger.

After that you decide to play a little game. Wouldn’t hurt, no? Just subtle touches. Brushing his arm when you walk past him, patting his chest when he helps you with something, your legs touching his whenever you sit beside him.

He tries to shrug it off but you can practically feel how worked up he gets and how hard it is for him to keep him shit together; and that fuels you only more. How long would it take for him to break? To crumble beneath your touch, huh? You wanted, no, you needed to find that out.

Simon knows what you were doing. He isn’t stupid but he hates it. How was he so weak that you were able to play with him like that?

After a week, maybe two of you dancing around him he has you caged in against the kitchen counter, towering over you.

“What makes you think you can just play with me like that, huh?” he asks in a low voice, his eyes scanning your face for any reaction. “You think it’s funny? Working me up like that every day?”

You try not to be intimidated—or turned on—by him but god, he’s just- you don’t have any words for it. He’s tall, broad and fucking strong. You once got a look at the muscles under all his clothes and you weren’t the same after that. Nu-uh.

“I thought you like it,” you reply with a cocky grin, trying to overshadow your uncertainty. “Do you want me to stop?” You blink at him, acting all innocent and pure. In the corner of your eye you see his grip on the counter tightening. Oh, you had him where you wanted him.

A ‘bloody hell’ is all you get before his lips crash down onto yours and he heaves you on top of the counter. His hands find their way to your hips, scarred fingers tracing them and squeezing, wanting to pull you even closer.

The moment his lips touch yours you forget everything else. This is want you wanted—needed—for weeks. And lord, that man knew what he was doing.

You weren’t a fan of him dragging and pushing you around but right now? Right now you couldn’t wish for anything else. You bury your hands in the dirty kind strands of hair on the back of his head, gently pulling at them which results in him groaning in your mouth.

“Take me to the bedroom and maybe I’ll stop teasing you,” you breathlessly tell him once he breaks the kiss only to kiss you again immediately making you all hot and tingly.

You can feel him smirk against his lips before they trail down your neck towards your collar bone. “Ain’t gonna take you anywhere love,” he whispers and you’re able to once again feel him smirk against your skin. “Gonna fuck you right here on that kitchen counter. You want that?” he looks up at you through hooded eyes, which makes you swallow.

“Words love, words.” His tone is playful even tho you can see the desperation in the way his hands move all over your body, letting you see stars already.

“Yes…please,” you almost choke out, feeling like everything you want to say is being swallowed my your throat again. You’re unable to talk.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Simon teases, straightening up to kiss your lips again, cupping your cheek. “Gonna take good care of you,” he promises. “I’m gonna show you how a real man treats you,” he swears and you can feel a familiar but also unfamiliar heat building in the pit of your stomach.

(i got scared to write the rest👍🏼. i’m sorry, i’m still new to writing smut😭)

[armchairaleck]

Sadly for me I have come to the end of my writing ideas for one shot stories which means I am now faced with the unpalatable dilemma of trying to actually write and finish one of my long fic ideas, and this level of commitment fills with me with existential dread.. well actually I think other shit does that and I write to try and forget the yawning chasm that opens up beneath me, but oh well, never mind eh…

I currently have four multi-chapter WIP ideas all of which exist in various degrees of very unfinished states on my hard drive, none of which I’m certain I can complete, but even so, I will outline them below, I will ponder them, I will be totally open to any suggestions that probably no one has..

Viren Origin Fic

Okay so my TDP original idea was always to write Viren’s background and relationship with Harrow from around age 13/14 right up to the start of the show... the main problem with this is - all the known cannon stuff seems to squeeze everything into about 8-10 years in the middle, while leaving the decades on either side of his marriage up until the magma titan debacle like a blank void of stuff I would have to make up and get totally wrong - due to my blinkers with Viren, my desire to make the world a lot darker than it’s probably supposed to be, and my unshakable belief that Harrow and Viren’s friendship becomes a twisted and suffocating vine that sucks them both into the pit of their own poor moral morasses.. but is also all they have.. and it’s sad..

So the plus side of this - I just really kinda love to explore the Viren/Harrow, Viren & Kpp’Ar, Viren/Lissa relationships, along with Sarai… I also love the slow descent of Viren from carefree boy, to loving dad to errr… not loving dad?

Down side – I could start writing this and find it is totally blown out of the water by the new cannon that will appear this summer and that often derails me, because while I am absolutely able to misread a character and their motivations and level of evil intent, like a fucking pony prancing around a field on a spring day.. I can get oddly OCD about additions to story cannon that mean this could very easily get destroyed and then I would have utterly wasted my time… also there are A LOT of missing pieces to fill in..

Viravos dead souls fic

Urgh, following on from this.. I also thought I could round it off with some vaguely cannon Viren/Aaravos.. um.. two years dead lost souls fic.. that could also be a stand alone. So for some reason my brain did not go down the horny Aaravos emerging from the cocoon s3/s4 gap fic, that people might actually want to read, and instead went to the hey.. what if Aaravos had to give the traumatised soul of Viren two years of therapy, in space, while his body lies on earth stitched in stasis.. anyway, it’s basically a lot of moping and angst between a middle aged man regretting all his life choices and a near eternal elf who has been irreversibly psychologically damaged by 300 years of solitary confinement.. fun times? This is not.. I also want to give them an unrealistic level of softness here because I'm pretty sure Viren will get no happy ending and I want him to have something.. I’m a sap and I have to just deal with this sad fact..

The plus side of this - I guess.. oh.. I don’t even know if there is a plus side.. people might want to read it? Until they discover that for an E rated fic it will really offer them nothing at all.. just slightly traumatised bad sex.. well, haha, that’s all my E rated fic to be fair…

Downside - I cannot really write Viravos to save my life.. meh..

Viren/Kpp’Ar Gothic AU

Alright, I switched this to gothic for more historical leeway and more opportunities for brooding, crazy mansions, resurrection and ghosts in the attic.. anyway.. this is a time when humans have fucked the world up even more fully, when they have destroyed nearly all magical components and dark mages are a dying breed of unhinged self-destructive maniacs that make Jack Parsons look sane.. I have a vague outline for this stitched out that I will probably expound upon in a different post, it’s pretty dumb and deranged and exists mostly so I can write some Viren and Kpp’Ar together..

Plus side of this – I mean despite the fact I’m patchy on the historical details I do love me a bit of gothic - brusque anti-social Kpp’Ar energy, mixed with Viren channelling his inner hysterical lady vibes… (just kidding olden days hysterical girls with smelling salts, you could never be as overwrought as Viren gets in front of a mirror..)

Minus side – this is literally as ridiculous as it sounds, there would be A LOT of plot I would have to write to fill inbetween the main beats, and I would probably have to do a lot of research.. watching old black and white horror films and reading the first 100 pages of gothic novels that I’ll simply forget to finish.. sigh.. okay maybe I’ll do the research and forget the writing..

Cyberpunk AU

Welp.. despite the last one, this is probably the most insane of all my ideas and exists solely because I wanted to ship Viren with Ibis… What? Why did I want to do this? I have literally no idea, except that often for some reason my brain will think.. oh.. I wonder what would happen if those two completely incompatible characters that have no way to actually get together in cannon met up and had a fuckin ridiculous and unlikely relationship that literally no one else in the whole world would care about?

So despite the fact that I know I don’t have a quarter of the world building chops necessary to actually write this, I have thought about it quite a lot..

Dumb things this AU contains:

A physical border between human kingdoms and Xadia where armies are constantly lined up in a don’t blink first cold war scenario…

An online version of the breach that separates the shitty human commodore 64 8-bit level of technology from the apple mac in 100 years sleek levels of advancement the Xadians have achieved..

That humans, god bless their ingenuity, have discovered a way to hook into, in order to try and steal the technology of the five nexus powers and boost themselves out of the depressing state of their own existence..

Defection from Xadia to the human kingdoms by various elves who have grown tired of the 1984 levels of state surveillance imposed on them by the dragons.. and who now work with the humans as primal jumpers, i.e. those who can get into the breach naturally..

Dark jumpers, who are social pariahs with both humans and elves and destroy everything they touch.. as per cannon..

Zero magic in the human kingdoms because they’re so awful of course they’ve destroyed it all, they rely on the dirt and smog of fossil fuels, while Xadia is renewable and magical all the way, but also under the grip of dictatorial state control.. seems like you just can’t have it all eh..

Just the whisper of Aarovos existing out there somewhere in the online breach like Jeff Bridges in Tron Legacy…

Weird pseudo sex pollen stuff that I would really have to remove to stop a decent into pure insanity..

Um.. drugs.. this is cyberpunk and the ONLY cyberpunk type stuff I have read is either by Philip K Dick or is Neuromancer… which means I figure cyber punk just has to involve a heinous amount of drug taking, which is probably inappropriate for a kids cartoon fic..

Alright, this makes total sense in my head but I am aware that trying to write it down makes it sound pretty nuts..

Plus sides – none?

Minus sides – I think those have all be listed above… so I should probably leave this here…

Alright, that's all I have thought about, which is probably for the best..

Honestly I do not know what to do here, maybe work on everything concurrently and finish nothing.. maybe do nothing.. maybe try and learn to draw better so I don’t have to worry so much about writing and plot and pacing and world building.. maybe wait for the sweet inspiration for a one shot of below 15k words to hit me..

..and yet I feel compelled to write SOMETHING.. which sorta sucks..

[beccascribbles]

hi! can i ask for a scenario where ushijima, tsukki, kenma said something maybe out of the line that hurt your feelings and you just give them the silent treatment or become distant?? then like how they'd react to it and stuff :) thank you vm, have a good day 🙈

a/n - sorry this took me so long to write (and post). anyway, i hope you enjoy it. it was my first time writing for kenma so i'm not sure if i portrayed him right but let me know what you think!

"you're acting like a child," he sighs, pushing you away from him. your arms fall to your sides, missing the feeling of ushijima's warm body. "stop being so clingy. it's annoying"

you knew he was honest, but there is a time and a place for him to voice his opinion on your affection, and in front of his friends was not one of them

all you had wanted to do was give him a hug in greeting. yes, you may have stayed attached to him longer than was necessary but you had barely seen him all day

"okay," you say, turning on your heel and walking away. you don't even bother saying goodbye, too hurt and annoyed to bother

ushijima's brows furrow in confusion as he watches you walk away. tendou is watching the scene with wide eyes, fighting the urge to snicker

"did i do something wrong?" ushijima questions, staring after your receding figure. tendou finally does let out a snort, quickly slapping his hands over his mouth when ushijima turns to look at him

it is semi who gives ushijima's shoulder a squeeze in reassurance, though his eyes hold slight judgement as he says, "you hurt their feelings because you were being too blunt. you should probably apologise"

ushijima nods and then follows after your figure, his strides lengthening to catch up with you

his hand, warm and large, encloses around your own as he catches up to you, matching your pace

you remain silent, choosing to ignore his presence beside you

the silence settles between you, heavy and unwanted. though his mouth opens to form words, he can't bring himself to say anything. maybe it's his stubbornness, but he can't see how his words may have hurt you when they were the truth

"now who's being clingy?" you mumble angrily, yanking your hand from his grip and increasing your pace. your arms cross over your chest so he can't take your hand again. this increase in pace doesn't bother him and he easily matches it

he is persistent, irritatingly so. when he follows you into your room, you almost snap. instead, you silently fume, collapsing onto your bed and turning away from him. he watches your figure, expression holding slight confusion

"why are you ignoring me?"

you stay silent, stubbornly staring at the wall instead of him. when the mattress dips slightly under his weight, you scoot closer to the wall. his frown deepens

"what did i do wrong?" he questions, and you let out a sigh at how oblivious he is. "i was just being honest..."

your scowl deepens, especially when you feel him rest his hand on your back soothingly, rubbing circles into it. it is ushijima's turn to sigh as he looks at you

"i'm sorry if my words hurt you," he admits, the words causing you to turn slightly to look at him. his expression is as stoic as usual, though his eyes soften when they meet yours

"i just wish you had more of a filter sometimes, toshi," you explain, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. you hug your knees to your chest, head tilting to look at him. "i know you tend to say what you're thinking but i sometimes wonder if you understand how what you say can effect other people. you called me a child, clingly, annoying. that's hurtful, toshi. you probably didn't mean it like that but you did hurt my feelings. i hadn't seen you all day and, when i hugged you, you told me that?"

"i'm sorry," he says again, a slight frown to his face as he considers your words. his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his body. "i'll try to think about my words before i say them from now on"

he hugs you tight, and you relax in his hold, savouring the closeness

it's normal for him to send a teasing remark your way, just as it's normal for you to return the favour

however, today, his words hit a little too close to home, targeting an insecurity he wasn't aware of

you were frowning down at the maths sheet in front of you, brows furrowed as you struggled to work out the problems

you never usually felt inferior in terms of academics, but, right now, as you struggled to work out what was relatively simple maths, it started to grate at you

tsukishima wasn't really helping the issue. he seemed oblivious to your stressing, leaning back in his chair as he nodded his head along to the music

his eyes slid over to you, to your figure scribbling away on the paper. he pulled his headphones off, shooting you a teasing grin (though this went unnoticed by you)

his voice, light and teasing, cut through your focus, the words immediately putting you on edge

"if you focus any harder, you're going to be even more stupid than you already are"

your lips pursed but he went on, oblivious to your discomfort

"i can actually see the last bits of your intelligence leaving yout skull." this was punctuated by his finger giving your forehead a poke

you flinched away from him, a scowl lining your features. mumbling under your breath a number of unflattering things, you gathered your work and shoved it into your bag

"where are you going?" he asked, sitting up straighter in his chair, eyes filled with confusion and a bit of concern

you ignored him, pushing open the classroom door, deciding to head to the library to get away from him

for the rest of the day, tsukishima's attempts to speak to you were met with stony silence

so, naturally, he got annoyed, pissed off, and decide to ignore you to

it got to the point where both of you were simply staring through the other as if they weren't there when in a group situation, which was awkward for everyone involved

it was kageyama who told you to get your shit together, while hinata and yamaguchi could only agree

"i will when he apologises for being a dick," you said to kageyama, while tsukishima's eyes narrowed into a glare

"what the fuck," he snapped. "you've been giving me the cold shoulder all day and it's somehow my fault? bullshit"

you spun to face him, arms crossing over your chest. you spat, "you called me stupid when i was stressing over my math work. was i supposed to say thanks? fine. thank you, kei, that was really fucking helpful"

"what?" he blinked, looking at you im confusion. yes, he had teased you. but, he assumed you would know that he had been joking. if he had thought you were struggling, he would of helped you

as this was happening, your friends had edged away to give you some privacy. this was why tsukishima felt fine in admitting this to you

"if i thought you were struggling, you know i would have helped you." his hand reached out to take your hand, finger stroking your knuckles as his eyes met yours

you let out a frustrated sigh, your resolve crumbling. "i know... sorry for being a bit of a brat about it. i should've just told you that you had hurt me"

"yeah, you should've," he teased, pulling you closer to him. his lips pressed against your forehead in apology for getting annoyed at you in. "but, it's fine"

when you came over that weekend, he was busy gaming, like he usually was

ordinarily, when you walked through the door, he would start to wrap up the game, saying goodbye to who he was in the call with

today, however, was slightly different

he was playing a particularly difficult story game, which he had been struggling to complete all week (his choices, much to his frustration, kept getting the character killed)

therefore, you could understand why he was engrossed enough to only give you a simple greeting, a nod of the head

expecting him to only take an hour at maximum (you were content to just be in his company), you relaxed on the bed and pulled out your phone. two hours later, he had still not said a word to you

you sat up on the bed, moving towards him to drape yourself over the back of his chair, resting your head on his shoulder

"kenma..." you said, drawing out his name slightly, "are you almost finished?"

"urgh, just fuck off," he sighed, shrugging your arms off of him. "can't you see i'm busy?"

"fine," you snapped, stepping away from him and heading towards the bedroom door. you pushed it open and let it slam shut behind him

for a moment, you paused, waiting to see if he would react, maybe realise what he said was wrong. instead, the room remained painfully still

when it became clear he was not coming out to find you, you straightened and walked out of the house

kenma didn't realise you were avoiding him for a couple days until he picked up his phone to see no messages from you

it became clear that you were making every effort to avoid him when you made no effort to see him in person

he got so confused as to why you were clearly distancing yourself from him that he went to kuroo

it was after talking with his friend that he realised he had been insensitive and rude

however, you were hard to get alone, using every excuse avaliable to you to get out of spending time with your boyfriend

the whole thing was frustrating, to say the least. he missed you (though don't expect him to openly admit it)

it took him saying 'i'm sorry' rather loudly in a public area for you to turn to face him

your pause gave him the chance to grab your hand, to keep you anchored to him in case you left again

"sorry, are you?" you asked, head cocked slightly. "not a nice feeling, being ignored, is it?"

you would admit you were being a bit bratty, but, to be fair, he deserved

naturally, kenma didn't bother to reply, but it was fine, the gentle way he squeezed your fingers and the quick kiss he brushed to the side of your head more than enough to convey his apology

[little-diable]

Rescue me - Klaus Mikaelson (angst/fluff)

Request by anon: Hi can I request an imagine with either klaus or jasper (I don’t mind which, it’s ur choice) where the reader is kidnapped or ambushed by other vampires and jasper or klaus are furious and super protective and then helps the reader afterward thank you!! 🥰

Hope this is what you had in mind. Enjoy my loves. xxx

“Honey I’m home.”, Klaus singsonged as he stepped into the mansion, a giddy smile on his lips, his fingertips were tingling, he was aching for her, desperate to touch her and hold her close. He was taking two steps at a time, basically running towards their shared bedroom, but the moment he stepped into an empty room, his smile fell, his eyes were wandering across the messy room. The furniture had been thrown around, glass shards were littered across the floor, it seemed as if a storm had raged inside their room. 

“(Y/n)?”, he called out, Klaus was getting nervous, he checked the bathroom, speeded across the mansion, desperately trying to find his girlfriend. He placed himself down on their messed up bed, a frown was gracing his features, Klaus rose from the bed, his eyes were focused on one certain spot, he ran his finger across the dark red spot on the window frame, blood. His hands were balled into fists, somebody had taken (y/n), he couldn’t even think about the things she was currently going through, he needed to find her, Klaus couldn’t lose her. 

While Klaus was moving heaven and hell to find her, (y/n) was sitting in a dark room, wrists bound together, feet tied to an uncomfortable chair, blood was dripping down from her bruised lips, her nose was broken, a few cuts were littering her skin. 

She felt angry, in the need to make her kidnappers suffer for waking her from her beauty sleep and taking her away from home. Home. A thought, that made her insides churn, her heart felt heavy, she was sure, that Klaus must have returned home by now, hopefully already trying to find her. 

“Urgh for fucks sake, can I at least have something to drink? What a shitshow this is.”, (y/n) groaned, somebody ripped the thin fabric off her eyes, her (y/e/c) eyes found the ones of an unfamiliar woman, she smirked down on (y/n), slapping her hand across (y/n)s face. 

Blood was pooling in her mouth, (y/n) spat at the woman, now it was her turn to smirk, “this is getting boring, you hit like a little girl.”, the woman was fuming, she balled her fists and slammed (y/n)s chair backwards, making her groan. The woman left the room, leaving (y/n) on the floor, still tied to the chair, praying, that Klaus would find her soon, she was getting tired, her body was aching. 

“The witch? Are you sure?”, Elijah was standing across from Klaus, eyes wandering across the messy room, “I can’t think of anybody else.”, the original whispered, he was boiling, ready to rip anybody to shreds who has even touched his girl in the slightest bit. 

“Alright, so, what should we do?”, Klaus eyes found his brothers one, “we’ll kill them all”, Klaus eyes were turning into a darker shade, he was thirsting for blood, blood of the people, who had taken his girl away from him. 

“Hello?”, (y/n) called out, the annoyance in her voice was hard to miss, she was getting bored, (y/n) had lost track of time, she had been in the room for way too long. The door slowly opened, the woman from earlier on stepped into the room, hands akimbo, eyebrows pulled upwards, she was watching (y/n) with curious eyes, “I’ve never imagined Klaus dating somebody like you.”, she was teasing her, trying to get a reaction out of her. “Fuck you.”, (y/n) spat, she cringed as the womans fist came in contact with her jaw one again, bruising up her skin, leaving another nasty mark. 

The woman was about to hit her once again as somebody grasped her wrist and pulled her backwards, making her scream, “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”, Elijahs voice hallowed through the cold room, a relived sigh left (y/n)s lips, finally. 

Klaus walked around the corner and stepped into the room, “Hello love, did you miss me?”, his eyes were focused on his girlfriend, a smirk tugged on (y/n)s lips, “this took you way too long”. He snapped his head towards the woman, the smile on his lips disappeared, he grasped her throat, slammed her head against the wall, “how foolish of you to think, that torturing my girlfriend was a good idea.”. 

Klaus wasn’t wasting any time, he forcefully ripped the woman to pieces, clouded by the anger, that was flooding through him, he’d make anyone pay, who’d even think about touching his girl. “Klaus.”, (y/n) groaned, her body was aching, marks had been forming all over her skin, she needed to feel him close, to take away her pain. “I’m here love.”, he snapped the rope apart, placed his arms around her and pulled her against his chest, “I’m sorry”, Klaus whispered against her forehead, carrying her out of the house. 

(Y/n) was sitting in the bathtub, eyes closed, arms placed around her legs, Klaus was watching her, his insides were churning as his eyes wandered across her marks and scars. “Stop worrying, I’m fine.”, she whispered, eyes still closed, she could feel his gaze on her, knowing, that he was feeling guilty, thinking that it had been his fault. 

Klaus sat down on the floor next to the tub, he interlaced his fingers with hers, kissed the back of her hand, “I’ll always try and protect you, you know that, right?”. (Y/n) nodded her head “yes”, a faint smile on her lips, a yawn rumbled through her, she had barely any energy left. 

The original had his arms protectively wrapped around her, (y/n)s head was placed on his chest, she was fast asleep, not noticing the way Klaus was admiring her. “I’ll never let you go.”, he whispered, in that moment he promised himself to never let her go, to protect her for the rest of eternity and love her till the dawn of time. 

[mnictasbcl]

A guide on how to be un-kidnapped

Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson

Tags: Crack, Swearing, Kidnapping, Connor is a little shit

Summary: Connor finds himself kidnapped yet again, oh no! This time with Hank in tow. He makes sure to harness his trusty trick that makes the kidnappers regret ever choosing him as their target.

Read it on AO3! Or, read below!

Connor woke up in an unfamiliar room, groaned, and closed his eyes again.

Great. Just great. He’d been kidnapped, yet again. Did the universe think this was funny? It was only a month ago this had happened, the kidnappers demanding a ransom and etc and etc…

Hank had been scared shitless. He’d assured him that he was fine. All it had done was waste his time. Kidnappers in Detroit were just becoming so boring these days. They thought that now androids had their rights, if they kidnapped random androids who looked like they had loved ones, they’d get a hefty pay-out.

Which, to be fair, was a decent plan. Except they all seemed to be sharing the same hit list— and Connor believed his name was at the top of it. And they never got a single penny. Why? Because Connor and his dad were police officers, thank you very much. They could figure it out themselves.

This time, though… he could feel that something was different. Someone sitting across the room from him. He dragged his eyes back open.

“Hank!”

Thank god, they’d kidnapped Hank as well. He’d have some company for once.

Oh.

They’d kidnapped Hank as well.

Who the hell was going to get them out of this one?

“Hank. Hank! Wake up!”

The man groaned, starting to shift as he woke up.

“There we go. Come on, we’ve been kidnapped.”

“Urgh.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Hank’s drowsy blue eyes snapped open.

“What? Kidnapped? Oh, for fuck’s sake. I was watching the sports. Now I’ll never know who won.”

Connor stared at him. “Uh, Hank. We’ve both been kidnapped.”

“Oh, shit. Uh…”

“But don’t worry.” He continued. “I have a plan. It’s what I do sometimes when the kidnappers are a little smarter and actually lock their doors, or don’t give away their location, or don’t turn off my internal GPS.”

“I’m listenin’.”

“Well, you know the times they’ve simply sent me back, practically on your doorstep?”

“I… recall. Probably. Fuck, my head hurts.”

“Yes, they were a bit brighter this time. Disabled some of my systems too. But anyway—what I do in those situations is persuade the kidnappers to let me go.”

Hank laughed. “Kid, I know you think you’re bright as shit but you’ve gotta realise you can’t just ask the kidnappers to let you go.”

“Yes, you can. Only, you don’t ask. You… persuade.”

“And how the fuck do you persuade kidnappers?”

“It’s easy. You make them no longer want to have kidnapped you. You make them regret it.”

“What, you bust their kneecaps?”

“No. I… as you put it sometimes, I act like ‘a little shit’. It usually does the trick—”

Hank choked back laughter. “You… annoy the kidnappers to let you go.”

“Yes. It’s very effective.”

“Fuck. You know what, I believe you.” He paused as the door to the room rattled. “I’ll leave it to you.”

Connor nodded, looking up and taking stock of their kidnappers. Only two of them, the typical henchman, and his boss.

“Hello!” He waved. “How are you doing?”

“Shut up.” The boss replied, hand floating around the taser on his belt.

“No.”

“What? I’ll—I’ll make you shut up!”

��Impossible.”

“It’s true.” Hank agreed. “He once lectured me ‘bout my eating choices for a solid hour.”

“You. Shut up as well.”

Connor sighed, conceding, instead resorting to tapping his fingers against the floor. The henchman, he noted, stayed at the door. Smart. The boss, however, came closer.

“You two. I’ve got a big ransom. But I didn’t promise not to hurt you both.”

Connor looked up at that. “What? Who’s paying the ransom?”

The boss blinked. “Your friends.”

“What, which ones?”

“Uh, ones at… Your workplace.”

“Ah, my colleagues.”

“Yeah. Now shut up.”

“I wish you’d said some of my other friends. They might’ve been able to pull something together. But my work friends?” He chuckled. “I think they’d be glad to have a break from me.”

“Woah, cool it on the self-depreciating humour, that’s my fuckin’ thing.” Hank chimed in. “But he’s right. Plus no one’s gonna pay up. Who’d you send the ransom letter to?”

“Oh no, I think we will get our money. Gave it to your big friend. Captain… Jeffrey.”

“Oh man, Fowler?” Hank shook his head, struggling not to laugh. “He’s not gonna. I busted his coffee machine and his printer last week.”

“Shut up.”

“And the department can’t afford the extra costs.” Connor added. “Not after the… the tinsel fiasco.”

“The what?” The henchman broke his silence from the doorway.

“Shut up!”

“The tinsel fiasco.” Connor repeated. “I… have a way with tinsel. I have a special relationship with it.”

“Eurgh. Don’t wanna hear that again, Con. Let’s think about the consequences of our words.”

“What?” He batted his eyelashes, acting innocent. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that I love tinsel. Tinsel loves me.”

“Shut UP!”

“If you talk about tinsel one more time, I’m coming over there and… and…”

“No one is going anywhere! I—”

“And what, Hank? Try and convince me in your heathen ways that tinsel is not a god-given gift? It’s a luxury you wish you had.”

“It’s my goddamn tinsel!”

“No, it’s—”

“SHUT UP!” The boss roared. “I don’t want to hear anything about tinsel, from either of you! Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.”

“Okay. I’m the one in charge here, alright?”

“Hey, buddy, no one said you weren’t.”

“If you’re feeling insecure,” Connor paused, twisting his hands around, carefully working off the handcuffs, “I can help you learn how to assert your authority.” He got up, holding out his hand.

“SIT BACK DOWN!”

Connor complied, holding his hands in surrender.

“I… I’m in charge here. I am. I’m getting my fucking money and getting out of here!”

“You got it, chief.”

The man roared, charging out of the room, pushing his henchman aside as he went. The henchman sighed, twisted his hand in his pocket and pulled out the keys, chucking them across to Connor.

“Just leave. Please.”

They unlocked the cuffs and climbed out of the open window, snickering all the way, sharing a brief high five before making their way to the nearest place with cell service.

[lizhly-writes]

i do not have anything very new for you this week.  i do, however, have this revised version of the first chapter of the ‘villainess’ side of my heroine-villainess isekai bodyswap story, which is, essentially, a full rewrite.  i have made some changes that have brought our pov character a little more in line with my mental image of her.  to quote someone that i had look at this: ‘Before mina seemed more refined like she kills u by poisoning u thru ur tea and then "ohoho"ing as u slowly lose consciousness and die, and now mina seems like she kills u by straight up ripping ur spine out lol’

i always did wonder why i never saw the ‘original’ villainess in otome isekai stories do some major physical damage for funsies, y’know?

warning: this thing is 2k+ words long. 

Why’s it so fucking loud.  Who’s screaming bloody murder in here?  Shut up, I got the worst headache and whatever slick steaming pile of shit you think you are, you ain’t making it better.  If you won’t keep that hole in your face quiet, what if I just heal it closed?  You won’t get a choice then, how about that?

I’m laid out flat on the floor, too. It’s wet, there’s something soaking in my shirt and my hair.  It better not be vomit.  Three fucking faces of Knight, how much did I drink last night.

I crack an eye open. “Th’ fuck’s goin’ on.”

There are people with the dumbest fucking faces staring down at me.  “You’re awake!” one of them exclaims, like everyone else has useless holes for eyes.  Course I’m awake, that something you really feel you gotta tell the world?

“Shit, really?  Wow!  Never woulda guessed,” I say as I drag myself to my feet.  Urgh, feels like I drank my way through the entire bar.  Did I get run over by a carriage or something too?  I’m real fucked up — balance off, arms and legs ain’t landing right, everything aches, and I got clothes on that look like I stole them from a crackpot fashion student.  

Though, hey, looks like everyone here is dressed like that.  Maybe it’s the crackpot fashion student side of campus. I’m in some really shiny cafe, by the looks of it.  The aesthetic here is… really something.  Didn’t know we had this kind of place at the university.

Let’s put that aside for now.  I crack my neck and ignore everyone talking at me as I give the entire place a once-over.  No sign of Emily or Asher, which doesn’t sound right.  If I’m this messed up, normally Asher’d be right there with me.  Emily, at least, would’ve tracked me down and tried to kick me in the head or something.  Not that I’d need a kick in the head, it hurts bad enough as it is.  Maybe enough that I can say that I’ve knocked something loose.  Hearing’s definitely off, it’s doing funny things to my voice.  Not liking that very much at all.

“How much is a drink ‘round here?” I say, because while alcohol got me into this, I’ve heard great things on how alcohol can get me out of this.

“I don’t think you need a drink,” says an absolute fucking killjoy from somewhere behind me.

“‘Scuse me?” I say as I do an about-face.  The killjoy in question looks boring enough that I’d forget him instantly if it weren’t for the eyes.  Real pretty shade of blue, nice enough that probably some asshole’s tried yanking them from his skull.  It’s a wonder he still has them!  Maybe he’s a good enough fight that people don’t bother, huh?

He doesn’t react when I step in for a closer look — yeah, there we go, left eye, the scars are barely there, but it looks like someone’s been using their nails to make an attempt.  Honestly, you’d think he’d flinch a little with me getting that close to his face, it’s not like his glasses’ll be any good at protecting him.  But no, he just stands there and says, “I think you need first aid.  You might have a concussion.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re bleeding.  A lot.”

…Hmm.  

“Am I?” I say.  I reach for the bits of me that I’d hoped hadn’t been sitting in vomit and… yeah.  My fingers come away red.  

Trace a little further up to the back of my head, and there’s the head wound.  Not as deep as I’d think, but it’s there, along with a very long braid I don’t remember getting.

Maybe I am concussed.  Should’ve noticed both of those things a lot sooner.

“Yeahhhhh, okay,” I say.  “Lil later, then.”  After I fix myself up, maybe.

“I think you’re actually supposed to avoid drinking after a concussion altogether,” says Absolute Fucking Killjoy.

“Fuck you,” I say. Of all things, that’s what gets him to flinch.  Interesting priorities he’s got there.

About the drink, though.  He ain’t wrong.   I know how head wounds work.  But those rules on what to do with them?  That’s for other people.

“You need a doctor—”

Please.  Last time I needed a doctor was years ago.  

This kind of thing, it’s easy enough to take care of.  So easy that it should be already healed up, but whatever.  Just a little concentration, and —

And.

...What's this?  

“That’s new,” I say, squinting at the crackling light running over the palm of my hand.  Real fancy, real nice to look at.  Doesn’t feel like much, but I bet I could make something like this hurt if I wanted to.  Nice little add-on, this.  I like what I got — I’m the best with what I got — but power is power.  Nothing wrong with having a little extra in your punches.

Except this ain't anything I can do. This ain't anything I should be able to do.  That’s pretty fucking strange, isn’t it?

“What are you doing,” says Killjoy, voice sharp.  

The face he’s making is probably hilarious.  It’s less interesting than the way light curls over my fingers, trailing over my wrist as I twist my hand this way and that.  If I let it, maybe it’d spread further up my arm.  How much higher could it go, really?

I don’t get to find out, because Killjoy snatches my hand, snapping his own fingers over it until only light you can see has to fight its way out from where skin meets skin.  And then it’s not even that, dying away until it goes dark completely.

Oh this bitch.  

“Well, ain’t you forward, huh?” I say, baring my teeth.  “What d’you think you’re doin’?”

“You’ve got a concussion,” Killjoy reminds me, like he thinks I forgot.  I ain’t forgetting nothing, got it?  It’s easy to take care of — just a little thought, and maybe it’s taking a little more effort, but the skin knits up just fine.

I sweep a hand lightly over the back of my head, just to make sure everything’s in order.  The swelling’s gone down, the bruising’s gone, eyesight seems pretty clear.  Headache and bodyache’s still there, which is annoying.  There’s been some improvement, but that’s not what I’m looking for.  It should be gone.  Is it not physical damage, then?  What, is it psychosomatic or something?  That’s a shit explanation.

It’s only after my self-checkup that I realize that Killjoy is still talking.  “— can take you to the clinic,” he’s saying, sounding very earnest.  He’s still holding my hand.

I shake him off impatiently.  “That’s unnecessary,” I say, and push open the shiny glass doors so I can find Asher or Emily or someone and go on with my life.

I don’t get more than a few steps outside before I realize I’m running headfirst into a problem. Namely, that the outside that greets me is not the university.   Not even close.  Not unless the mayor sent the entire city crashing down and decided to rebuild from the ground up.  Not unless everyone collectively decided to take overly-caffeinated fashion students’ advice when it came to everyday wear.  Not unless somebody made far too many innovations in automobile development and decided to implement them on every vehicle I can see here.  Not unless all of that happened while I was passed out.

No.  I should have noticed that before, too.  I don’t pass out.  Alcohol fucks me up, sure.  But I’ve never drunk so much that I got knocked unconscious.  I’ve never been able to drink enough to knock me unconscious.

…I remember now.  I didn’t go out drinking last night.  No, what happened was that some asshole attacked me— or, you know, tried to attack me for maybe a solid minute before I started beating the shit out of him for daring to ambush me.  I was doing quite a good job, if I do say so myself. I know I broke some bones, broke his face, had my hands around his neck, and it would have only taken me a second or so more -- just one good squeeze! -- to pulp his windpipe, and he would be dead. 

But I didn’t get to that part.  The last thing I remember was putting just enough pressure on his throat to make him choke, and then… nothing.  That’s it. That’s all I have before I woke up in the cafe.

I’m missing something.  I know I am.   It’s pissing me off.   

That fuckwad.  What did he do?  Clearly I made a mistake letting him breathe for more than a minute or so, I should’ve just killed him on sight.  If I find him again — no, when I find him again — I’m going to squeeze the answers out of him and grind his skull into paste, I’m gonna make him wish he was never born, I’m gonna make sure he’s in so many fucking pieces no one can tell his —

“Hey,” says Killjoy, because I suppose he followed me out or something. “We really need to get you to a doctor.  I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but even if it’s not a concussion, it’s safer to get it looked at, you know?  You said you were on university insurance, right? So it’s not like it’s even going to cost —”

And then he shuts up, because I have him by the collar of his shirt and he’s suddenly bent over enough that he’s barely an inch away from my face.

“Please.  Would you kindly keep your mouth closed,” I say.  “If not, I’m afraid I’ll have to make you choke on your own teeth.  Do I make myself clear.”

Killjoy doesn’t close his mouth.  It’s hanging open gently, his pretty blue eyes wide and shocked.  But I suppose he understands the spirit of what I’m asking for, because he doesn’t say anything, even when I let him go and kindly push him back upright.

Well, no, actually, there is one thing.  There’s a name he whispers: Allison.  But it’s so quiet that I can generously pretend I can’t hear it and let him keep his mouth in one piece.  I leave him standing there, and set off.

Where?  It doesn’t matter.  I walk through black-paved streets and stone-slab sidewalks, speed past too-tall buildings and too-bright colors and hoping for — I don’t know. One familiar building.  Something, anything, that I can recognize.

But… nothing. It’s like I’m an entirely different country.  An entirely different world.

How long was I out?  Am I missing memories?  What did that sad excuse for an ambusher do?

As if this day couldn’t get any better, Killjoy finds me at the entrance of a tiny, cramped alleyway, shadowed by buildings rising tall around.

“You just never fuckin’ give up, do you?” I say, sharp smile sliding easily across my face. I don’t know where I am, but I know I’m a fair distance away from where I started.  He can’t have just coincidentally run into me.  He had to have either followed me or known where I’d end up.  It doesn’t matter which.  Either option means that he’s still thinking of me.

He starts when I turn around and face him — he probably didn’t expect me to figure out he was there that quickly, huh? Well, I have to give him credit, he really is quiet.  And he stays quiet, too, even as he scrambles backwards when I start stalking towards him.

“You gonna tell me I need a doctor again, huh?”

Go on.  Say it.  I gave you a warning, I told you what I’d do to you, it’s not my fault you can’t listen.  I’m looking forward to it, actually!  Thank you for showing up just when I needed stress relief!

“… not Allison,” Killjoy says, so softly I barely hear it.

“Pardon?”

“You’re not Allison,” he hisses, and oh, is that a sight — his eyes are aglow, the light behind them illuminating their blue so that it shines against the darkness.  How pretty.  How valuable.  Even more so than when I thought the only thing that stood out about them was the color.  Really, how good of a fight must he be that he still has them?

I’m gonna find out.

[btsmosphere]

When You Know | KSJ x MYG

~summary: Seokjin and Yoongi aren’t just neighbours. They are enemies. Well, either that or they were destined to be in each other’s arms, but Yoongi can’t see that happening (nor can his cat). Let their friends try all they want, but they’d have to weather storms together and stand back to back in battle before Yoongi would look twice at Jin... Jin x Yoongi ~word count: 3.3k ~enemies to lovers, soulmate au (you have the name of your enemy AND your soulmate tattooed, without knowing which is which), neighbour au, crack, humour, fluff, angst if you squint? Rating: pg13 Warnings: swearing, that’s it :) ~a/n: welcome to my first mxm fic! This is for a special occasion as it is the wonderful @eternalseokjin​‘s birthday!! To celebrate Dean’s birthday over at @thebtswritersclub​ we were sent a bingo card and a challenge to include everything on it in one fic. Our regular mxr content will resume soon, but this has been super fun to write, even if the outcome is -ahem- quite chaotic. So, enjoy, but don’t ask me what’s going on here. I don’t know, and the characters certainly don’t either...

At the end of the fic, I will include what was on my bingo square, in case anyone wants to know, and some basics about d&d for those who (like me a few weeks ago) know nothing about it, but I promise you don’t need to know this to read the fic!

“You’re not serious.”

“I am totally serious.”

Namjoon’s straight-faced response matched Yoongi’s exactly, leaving the two in a sort of staring contest. Seeing no change in the other, Namjoon cracked first, slumping back into the sofa with a sigh.

“Yoongi, come on. It’s not that big of a deal-“

“Why would I want to do it?” Yoongi grumbled.

“it’s just a bit of fun-“

“Then go and do it with Seokjin. I’m sure you’ll have a great time playing wizards, or whatever the fuck-“

“That’s the entire point!” Namjoon threw his hands up in frustration, “we will all be playing, you and Jin included, and we will have a great time.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he had ever been threatened with having fun before. Staring back at his friend, his expression remained guarded. Eventually, he sucked at his teeth, turning his eyes away from the younger man.

“Fine,” he bit out.

“Thank you,” Namjoon huffed, pushing on his knees to stand up, “we’ll start at 5 on Sunday, but I’ll get here earlier. Jin will bring food to make up for the trouble.”

Following Joon out to see him off, Yoongi’s brows furrowed.

“Wait- what trouble? And what do you mean you’ll get here-“

“You’ll be hosting. Okay, bye!”

The door was shut in his face before he could protest any further. Cursing Namjoon for knowing him so damn well, Yoongi stomped to the kitchen and soon began scrubbing the teacups to within an inch of their life.

He’d heard of dungeons and dragons before. Well, vaguely. It hadn’t occurred to him before to pay attention to Namjoon whenever he spoke about it, because surprisingly enough, he hadn’t expected his friend to suddenly whip it out as a method of forcing him and Seokjin – his mortal enemy – to bond.

The whole mortal enemy thing wasn’t even an exaggeration.

What else were you supposed to think when the new neighbour, whose name happens to be printed on your wrist, tries to turn your cat over to the authorities on their first day after it launched a ‘targeted attack’ on their pet sugar gliders.

Yoongi was yet to meet the mysterious V that graced his other wrist, but he knew for sure that Kim Seokjin was his enemy. He could not be soulmates with someone who thinks it’s okay to leave a pair of sugar gliders by an open window and not expect a cat to see them as a tasty meal.

When they had learned each other’s names, and of course connected them with their tattoos, an icy silence fell between the neighbours.

Every now and then, Yoongi would get a reminder of the fact his mortal enemy lived next door. Like this morning, when Seokjin’s wheely bin had blown over and spilled rubbish onto his lawn.

Yes, that man’s evil knew no limits.

And if Yoongi would have to endure his friends’ attempts at reconciling the two of them, in his own house, then he was sure of one thing. He was not going to eat Seokjin’s cooking. It was probably awful, anyway.

That Sunday, at precisely five minutes to five, Namjoon arrived. Yoongi’s eyes widened in alarm at the bulging folder held under his arm. He really had come prepared. Yoongi had barely spent twenty minutes scribbling down some things about his character. Well, except when he had to read all about the different class choices… and then when he needed to select the perfect traits… and picking his spells was quite tough too…

“Are you excited?” Namjoon grinned as he set his stuff down, but then he faltered, “…I did tell you Jin would bring food, didn’t I?”

“Can’t remember,” Yoongi muttered.

He slouched over to the sofa while Namjoon shrugged, grabbing a bite from the nearest bowl of snacks. The table was littered with them, and Yoongi would never admit just how early he had got up that morning to start cooking.

Jungkook turned up next, and of course the brat would instantly wolf down the tub of popcorn rather than the bites Yoongi had been slaving over.

Seokjin’s was the last knock on the door, and a timid one at that. Although it may have had something to do with the food his arms were laden with.

As Yoongi opened the door (Namjoon had shoved him towards it before anyone else had the chance to respond), he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit guilty. It seemed his neighbour had worked just as hard as him on preparing it all.

But still, more of a grimace than a smile showed on his face.

“This way,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

His guilt was short-lived, irritation setting back in as Seokjin invited himself into the kitchen to put down his things. Jungkook bounded after him almost instantly, the pair’s loud greeting audible from the next room.

Turning away bitterly, Yoongi sat in the empty seat between Namjoon and Taehyung, determined to keep his distance from Seokjin.

In time, however, he came to regret this decision, if only because it put Seokjin in full view of the eyes Yoongi so desperately wanted to roll when he announced he wanted to attempt to charm his way to free dinner at the first inn they got to. His reason? His stupid elf claimed to be ‘worldwide handsome’.

The infuriating smirk on his face as he declared this (and then proceeded to pass his roll, because of course) left Yoongi with little doubt this arrogance was nothing but a projection.

After introducing themselves, Yoongi slumping back in his chair the whole time, he let the others take the lead as they set off to find monsters, or something. A pointed look from Namjoon prompted him to pay more attention.

In fairness, he had been a bit creeped out when Taehyung announced he had named his character ‘V’, but he tried his best to listen to the adventure as Namjoon described it. And so they went along, the supply of snacks steadily dwindling as they made their way through some ruins.

The scene was quite vivid, until-

“That’s cat food, Jungkook!”

“Urgh, gross,” Jimin groaned as Jin pried the bowl away from the sheepish-faced younger.

If it had been anyone else, Yoongi would have returned the fond-but-exasperated look they were all well practised in, given the nature of their younger friends. As it was, he ducked his head, scribbling nonsense on his notepad.

It would be a lie if Yoongi said he wasn’t quite proud of himself for solving a riddle to get them into the final room, and getting the final hit on the hellhound inside. And maybe, just maybe, he was a little excited for their next game.

Shutting the door at long last, Yoongi paused for a moment.

Screw Namjoon and his good ideas.

Clearing away the dishes, Yoongi couldn’t help a glance out the window to watch as Seokjin let himself in to his own place, his own stack of plates in his arms. Not that he would ever admit it, Yoongi hadn’t been able to resist just one bite…

Well, it turned into a lot more than that. Maybe Seokjin was a good cook after all.

But that was just one redeeming quality. Best not get ahead of himself.

Yoongi was in trouble.

It had only been a couple more weeks, but he knew that much. As they sat around his table, he caught himself laughing along to Jin’s jokes. And look, he was already calling him Jin! No, he had to stick to Seokjin, the evil neighbour, his enemy.

If he got fond, he would only be sorry later when Jin – Seokjin – did something to remind Yoongi of what a terrible person he was.

Shame all of this seemed to slip his mind the moment Jin came around again.

“The slope is steep, with rocks falling where you move your feet. You can still hear the song, though, and you are certain it’s coming from inside the dark opening you can see at the bottom of the path.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Yoongi was the first to speak.

“Are you kidding? We just spent like an hour trekking over here specifically because of that music,” Taehyung was next to chip in, jabbing his finger into the table.

“It wasn’t an hour,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, “Joon told us it was hour, it was what? One minute?”

A high pitched giggle from Jin was overtaken next by Jimin.

“No, I can feel the weariness in my bones! It won’t be complete until we hear the song!”

“We’ve been hearing it all this time! Aren’t you guys sick of it by now?” Jin retorted.

“No! Joon specifically said it’s the most beautiful music we’ve ever heard,” Tae insisted.

“I don’t give a shit if there’s a chorus of angels in there, my dexterity is not gonna let me get down that cliff,” Yoongi folded his arms to punctuate his argument.

“Ugh, fine, well I want to go down with V,” Jimin said.

The two factions that had emerged looked expectantly towards Namjoon.

“Okay, so V and Christian want to go down and Genie and Suga want to stay here. Anyone else?”

“Yeah, I’ll go down,” Kook shrugged.

All heads turned now to Hobi. Unease written all over his features, he glanced between the two groups.

“Come one, don’t be boring, hyung!” Jimin elbowed him.

“Yeah, come with us!” Kook bounced in his seat as Taehyung switched on the puppy eyes with a string of ‘pleeeease’s.

Cracking under the force of the youngers’ begging, Hoseok laughed and agreed.

Folding his arms, Yoongi leant back in his chair, more than ready to be a bystander to whatever the hell the others were about to get themselves into.

The others of course had an irritating success rate, somehow making it down the cliff without plummeting to their deaths. Not that Yoongi would ever wish death upon his own party members. Of course not.

It would have been funny, though.

Anyway, despite his aversion to following them, Yoongi admittedly was a little curious about the mysterious music they had followed here.

“Stepping inside the cave, the party hears the music louder than ever, ringing in their ears as it bounces off the rocks, making its source unclear. However, it doesn’t offend your ears. The cave extends further into the cliff, and you follow the sound further in. But as you take a step, a great groaning drowns out the music. Behind you, the mouth of the cave shifts, everything around you going black.

“Those of you at the top of the cliff stumble back from the edge as they see the path crumble away into the sea from the shaking of the earth.”

Namjoon sniggered softly at the silence that followed.

Staring at him with comically large eyes, Hobi and Tae looked terrified. As Yoongi watched, Tae slowly turned his head, a smirk turning the edges of his mouth underneath puppy eyes.

“Come rescue us?” he asked sheepishly.

Before Yoongi could respond, Jin was cutting him off.

“Well, that was a fun detour! Where was it we were heading again, Yoongi?”

Yoongi had been preparing to be mad at Seokjin, but his glare dissolved quickly into a snort.

“Yeah, that demon up the road needs seeing to,” he agreed, creating instant uproar from the others.

“You can’t leave us!”

“Justin’s scared of the dark!”

“Traitors!”

However, Jin’s squeaky laugh as he revelled in the others’ pain was all Yoongi could hear. Then Jin leaned closer.

It was all Yoongi could do not jump from his seat when Seokjin’s voice spoke in his ear.

“Shall we leave them?” he was barely containing his mirth.

Feeling rather like he was plotting a prank in the back of the classroom, Yoongi grinned and agreed with a nod. He didn’t quite trust his voice to function as Jin’s breath tickled his cheek.

“We’re leaving!” Jin declared, sitting back in his chair, satisfied.

Before any more chaos could erupt, Namjoon continued with a smirk.

“Okay, so Suga and Genie carry on their previous path, away from their friends and the cliff…”

This was officially getting out of hand.

First of all, Yoongi couldn’t believe how eagerly he was anticipating the weekend, when Seokjin and the others would come around.

Particularly worrying, however, was the way Yoongi had to restrain himself from going to see Jin before Sunday rolled around. It was as if that writing on his wrist was staring at him. The more he tried to look away, the later he would find himself sat up at night, glancing between his wrists and what was written there.

Surely, if Kim Seokjin was his enemy, he wouldn’t be dying to ask how he makes his ramen taste so good. Or how his day was, or any trivial thing, just to be able to have Jin’s eyes on him and his voice in his ears.

Second of all, he had no idea how their campaign had devolved into such utter chaos.

Since the party split, the others made friends with the sirens they found in the cave, and ended up at a drinking party with some demons while Yoongi and Jin were nearly killed by one some miles away on the surface. The demons had apparently taken a particular shining to V, as a tiefling, which resulted in the group they abandoned somehow siding with the very demons they were trying to kill at the start.

Last Sunday had seen Yoongi and Jin going out of their way to find random things to beat to death in the forest, trying to get as many points as possible to face off against four members and goodness knows how many demons.

Yes, this had got rather out of hand.

Two old foes stand face to face on a precipice. Around them, fire blazes. This battle has ravaged the very land they stand upon, whipped the air into a frenzy.

Admittedly, they can barely remember what started this feud. Rumour has it these two great powers were friends, once. If that was so, it was a long time ago.

V stands, battle-worn, waiting for his adversary to make a move.

Suga looks at the body of his fallen companion.

“I’ve only got one spell slot left.”

“Use it,” a whisper returned.

“Aren’t you dead?! Stop talking to each other!” Jimin exclaimed, finger pointing accusingly towards Jin.

“Okay,” Yoongi cut in before they could start arguing, “if this hits, I can take him down. But there’s a fat chance of that, with his AC…“

Trepidation filled him as he looked across the table to Taehyung, a small but unmistakeably victorious smile already on his lips.

A dry chuckle came from one side.

“It’s been a good run,” Jin clapped him on the shoulder.

“Are you accepting defeat?” Joon prompted.

“No…” a hand ran down Yoongi’s face, “I’ll give it a go…”

“There’s no way! If you succeed…” Jin laughed, “if you succeed, I’ll kiss you.”

A quiet round of laughter went around the others, too focussed on the dice in Yoongi’s hand to pay it any mind. But Yoongi could no longer concentrate on that. What did Jin just say?

He couldn’t mean that.

There was no way he would kiss Yoongi. Was there?

All he could hear was the slow drumming of his heart rushing in his ears. The breath caught in his throat as he reminded himself to raise his hand, dice cupped inside.

It wasn’t just the defeat of V he hoped for as it rolled off his fingers, dropping onto the tabletop.

The faces flipped over, every eye trained on it. Around the table, there was no sound. Even Jungkook had stopped munching his popcorn, mouth hanging open.

Round, round, round…

Yoongi caught a glimpse of 20, the magic number, right within reach.

A small thud, the dice settling. A number glared up at him.

3.

All the air left his lungs, deflating as he stared at the number. For a second, the table remained silent as everyone came to terms with the roll, the only sound the tapping of his cat’s paws-

Wait.

When Yoongi turned to find his cat leaping onto the table, it was already to late to grab her as she dashed across the surface. As she went, her paws caught a bowl of snacks, Joon’s notepaper, the dice. Hobi exclaimed with shock, several yells going up as everyone snatched their own stuff out of her way. Jungkook had dived after the snacks.

“Hey!” Yoongi shooed her as he stood up, watching her dart out into the hall.

“Oh my god…”

The small mutter from Jimin caught his attention. Looking around, Yoongi found him staring at the table and followed his gaze to the crime scene. In the centre of which, the dice still lay.

But now, a different number was displayed.

Yoongi’s jaw dropped. It was 20.

“That’s not fair!” Taehyung cried.

“Shush Tae, Jin has to do what he promised,” Hoseok teased, nudging a very red-eared Jin.

“Yah! Hey, I-I, that’s-” Jin spluttered, mouth seemingly fixed open as his cheeks warmed, growing defensive.

As Yoongi watched, Jin only stuttered more under the teasing cries erupting from the other boys as they egged him on with an array of ‘go on’s and ‘you said you would!’

“I-I-“ his eyes flickered over to Yoongi’s.

And despite the jeering and laughter in the background, neither of them looked away. Jin’s lips remained parted, ears pink with embarrassment, protests lodged in his throat.

Yoongi stepped forwards and kissed him.

The distance between them closed in the blink of an eye, Yoongi’s hand flying to Jin’s jaw as he pulled him in, turning his back to the gasps and cheers of their friends.

But they didn’t hear it. Not when their lips were pressed together like this, lighting fireworks in Yoongi’s stomach until he felt like sparks might fly out of his fingertips, the ones he was trailing down Jin’s neck, the ones pulling at the small of his back to bring him closer.

The others had gone quiet.

By the time he groggily pulled away, Yoongi seemed to have forgotten what the world looked like. Were his feet even on the ground?

In what was probably a mirror image of his own face, Jin stared back at him, eyes wide and those perfect lips round with shock. Jin’s fingers trembled as he brought them to his mouth.

“Holy fuck.”

“U-uh, guys,” a small voice from behind them did little to snap them from their trance.

“That was-“ Yoongi breathed, words escaping him.

“It’s you, you idiot!” a grin broke onto Jin’s face.

A laugh left Yoongi’s throat, taking him by surprise.

“It- really?”

“Did you not feel that too?”

Eyes still not leaving the beautiful man in front of him, Yoongi realised. Jin was completely right. Everyone had always told him how it would feel, when he kissed his soulmate. Like butterflies, or a flame, or like the world turned golden.

But through all the different feelings people described, there was one common thread. When you know, you know.

“You’re my soulmate.”

It wasn’t something he had to question, the words leaving him as easily as air.

“You’re my soulmate!”

And then he was wrapped up in Jin’s arms, his lips captured once again, euphoric feeling surging through his body once more.

“Come on, guys…” Namjoon’s groans were completely ignored.

Taehyung was still a bit put out that V had been slain at the last hurdle, but it hardly seemed fitting to be angry about it anymore, what with his two friends falling in love in front of him.

Everyone left together after the revelation, and pretty swiftly at that, deciding to leave them to it. And for once, Jin wouldn’t be leaving with them, even if he would only be one house away.

Smile never once leaving his face, Jin turned to Yoongi after shutting the door.

“So, what are we going to do about my sugar gliders?”

Thanks everyone for reading!! Reblog if you liked it xx

Taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ @kb-bangtanenthusiast​

Okay, for anyone interested, my bingo card contained: dungeons & dragons, neighbours, enemies to lovers, namjoon, yoonjin, cats, fluff, music, soulmates And here are some dnd basics for those who want them: you have a dungeon master or dm (Namjoon here) who tells a story. The others play as a character and choose what they want to do in the given situation. There are scores that dictate how good your character is at certain traits, and you roll the dice to see whether you succeed in your choices. That’s really all you need to know for the purposes of this fic, but you can ask me any questions too!

Lastly, I have to give another HUGE happy birthday to the amazing writer and friend and person @eternalseokjin​!! I hope you have the best day, you really deserve it! I’m so glad to have met you and of course played dnd together in the net! Lots of love xx

[mimithings97]

7:41pm Pt.2 (M)

FuckBuddy Tae wanting a taste of you early in the morning

Warnings: SMUTTTTTT. Tae just wants to lick you all over. Like SPIT!

A/N: Follow on from the 7:41 FuckBuddy Tae with the spitting kink. Same Y/N but can be stand alone’s if you want. Again, zero excuses as to the dirt I’m spewing. Actually black swan Taehyung is my excuse, he needs to STOP. 

Taehyung’s adamant he drew the short straw last night. You called him over, all sultry and seductive with the pictures on snapchat to match, but followed through with a mere one round. Call him selfish, but his mum always taught him to be an overachiever and, fighting his way through the cold on a Tuesday evening for a one pump chump kind of booty call, left space for selfishness. 

It’s why he wakes up hornier than usual. Or maybe it’s your warmth next to him and the feeling of your dip in the side of the bed. Or maybe how the sheets are cast far away from your body because you can’t stand the summer heat, so you’re in all your naked glory. Either or, his boxers are tight and he doesn’t even need to feel himself up to get to full mast. 

Your smell is all over him from last night, as well. The pillow he nestles into whilst still in the thrones of sleep is too. He follows it until he meets the source. Your hair, graceful in its splay, and lit with morning sunlight from blinds left untouched. He’s no romantic, and neither of you are relationship material for one another, but you look like a home he can get lost in right now.

His idea of such intimacy, however, doesn’t come in the form of soft spoken pillowtalk or light trailing touches across your hip. He will admit his fingers do twitch at the thought, though. His lips seek you instead. An overwhelming desire to taste you and taste you again. That damn smell. And your damn nakedness.

It has him lapping at the junction of your neck which you normally crawl into because you’re ticklish like that. But you merely stir, still lulled in sleep by the ambient noises projected from the slit where you left your window open. So he takes his share. Tasting from neck to shoulder. From shoulder to ear. The occasional nip of his teeth at skin just so he can confirm to himself that you’re real, wholesome and so fucking soft.

Soft enough that he keeps his touch light when he decides his hands destination is your pussy. Maybe with a quick detour so he can pinch at your nipples. They’re hard. Been exposed to the light chill of having no covers or protection for quite some time. His mouth has to busy itself at your ear so he doesn’t succumb to the desire to suck one nipple harshly and play with the other harsher. 

“Taee.” It’s a whine. An impatient one though that tells him you’re not to be roused from your slumber. 

“Shhh, just let me.” But he’ll persist. 

He cups where you’re bare and warm, wet also, because maybe he insisted you went to sleep stuffed full like a chistmas turkey, but he’s all the more happy, now, that he did. He gets the lubrication he needs to tickle around your clit in perfect cirles - almost a game to see when he slips up. He’ll know because you’ll whine.

The sheets crumple under him as he shuffles into your back, skin to skin, and his boxers, under the strain of where he’s stiff, find a home between your cheeks. He’s sensitive. So damn sensitive from a pent up night that he moans a lick up the side of your neck. Wet. A path of saliva he’s happy about.

“Urgh, sleeping Tae, just get yourself off without waking me up.”

He doesn’t care that there’s no romance, no intimacy in your tone. Not when he’s got a handful of your pussy and a cockful of your bare ass. 

“Kiss me first.” Yet he’s selfish and in dire need of your lips. It’s the taste. 

“Kiss my fucking ass, you bitch, I’m sleeping, already told you.”

But the way you rock into him a little, lay a claim on his boner by moving back and forth, has him smirking. It’s hot when you’re all denial in your words, but your body. just. can’t. help. itself. 

“I’ll kiss your ass if you ask nicely. Promise.” He means it. He promises he’ll duck under covers just for a taste of your hole. His insides tighten at the thought. And he thrusts, just a little, but enough he’s biting your neck again. 

He hears you laugh, and then suck in a little too much air to still find the humour of it all. Not when he slips his thumb shallow into your pussy.

“Wet little cunt.” It’s deaf on your ears, he knows, but he’s not here to sweet talk you into submission because he knows you’ll give out anyway. No, he narrates for his own purpose. 

You groan out when he sinks his thumb further and he swallows his own moan down into your jaw. “Talk shit about being asleep but your cunts beggin’ to be filled.” 

He’s so damn dirty. Horny and filthy. It has you being chipped away bit by bit as the sleep on you fades and his boner digs in a bit deeper.

“If only you’d keep up on your promises.” You’ve lent into the way he laps at your throat, now, and Taehyung knows he’s stolen you from where you were hiding. You’re his for the taking if he plays his cards right. 

“I could, yeh. But where’s the fun in that, baby.” 

He’s played the perfect hand it turns out, luring you through words and the push and pull at all of your sensitive spots so that you’re fastening a grip on his hard on and steering it in line with where you gush. 

Taehyung’s very in tune to your incentive. Perhaps all too quick to jump on the train because his thumb leaves you gaping just as quick as he’s got a cockful of that same hole. 

“Urgh, I hate you.” 

Keep saying that, is all he thinks. It does wonders for his ego having a girl too much of a slut for him that her words can’t keep up with her body. And your body’s writhing all over him. 

“Yessss. Wet. Deep. Fuckk.” He’ll make home in your pussy because it’s that damn tight. Tight enough he becomes senile every time. “Could fuck you all day, jesus.” And spouts the most shit. 

“At this speed, yeh, christ Tae.” You’re having a dig, as per usual, and he’s not going to let it be one of those rare occasions where you’re allowed to run your mouth. Not when he’s this horny and wanting to have you just ‘shut the fuck up’ unless it’s his name on your breath.

So he resolves the matter. Finding pleasure in how you’re silenced when he gets a good grip on your throat, and buck back into one of his thrusts also. 

The sun is high enough in it’s morning glory that he gets a good sight of the pleasure written on your face, mouth agape and struggling for air and your breast spilling from left to right as he puts your cunt through its paces. 

“Fucking kiss me.” Is what he thinks out loud. And you have no choice but to oblige. But it’s no kiss, not the conventional kind anyway. It’s Taehyung with a filthy tongue that paints the outside of your mouth and occasionally catches between your lips. 

He picks up his pace when you moan at how he licks from one corner of your face to the other. He just wants to be all over you. Call him an animal, but he can’t help that he’s some kind of primitive when he’s this deep in you. 

“I want to cum in you.” He spells out. Desperate and wholesome. “Really deep in you, baby.” 

Shit. It’s a name for you that is only dragged out of the locker if he’s really struggling to keep tabs on his sanity. You’d claimed the first time he used it, it wasn’t degrading enough, so he opted for other routes. But there’s a few times where he’s too damn lost at the sight of you sucking him in whole, or tasting you deeply that he finds himself calling out for you with zeal.

“Yeah? Please.” 

Urgh, ‘please’. He’s a sucker for the silk you speak. 

“Tell me how much you need it, baby.” 

Your eyes are at their whites now that he’s heading home, fast and hard and without reserve. 

“Fucking neeedd it Tae. All of it.” 

“Shitting hell, yeah you do, slut.” And with his new found pace, a pile drive reaching up into your throat, you’re loud. 

“Pleaseee.” He lodges two fingers into your mouth for the sake of how fucked out he is. It’s probably a possession kind of thing. To have him in every part of you. He unconsciously makes you choke, too. 

“Fuck, tighten like that again and I’ll cum.”

You gargle. 

“Open your eyes baby. Look at me, fuck,” and you do it, but barely, with the need to shut your eyes tight and just take the orgasm in it’s load, fighting at you. But you obey. He watches your eyes glisten and mouth drool as you follow the darkening of his gaze. 

You scream from somewhere under his fingers as he tightens his hold so you’re flush against him. 

Quick, sharp hits, deep into you and your cervix. 

It has you so fucking undone, and he knows because you cry. Eyes pooling and drowning at the strain of watching him follow. 

“Fucking hell, Y/N, oh my god,” he’s shocked at the power that overtakes him, “oh m- holy fucking shittt.”

He can’t help when he sticks his tongue down your throat as he cums at the same time, juttering messily both with his hips and tongue. 

It’s so damn hard. A band snapping somewhere. A fire down to his toes. The fucking visual of you crying and quaking even though it’s the first thing in the morning. 

In the tresses of his orgasming state he kisses you wholly. 

“You’re amazing, fuck. All day. Want this all day.”

“Mmm,” he’s deaf and probably rightly so, because he doesn’t want to know whether you’ve reciprocated his drunken incentive. A lustful exploration of the boundaries of whatever the fuck you two are. But you seem unabashed, at least, still quivering, and lapping at his tongue as he does yours. 

Always so damn messy. 

“Cumslut.” 

His head spins.

“Says the guy who can’t get his fucking fill. It’s 7 in the damn morning, Tae.” True. 

“You provide your pussy, who am I to say ‘no’?” Also true.

You draw yourself away so his dick falls flaccid onto the mattress, a sad awakening to the day, especially when you look as though you’re headed straight back to sleep. 

But, instead, he’s left a little wordless when you’re turned, naked again, with the sheet kicked away, and grabbing at the skin of his back so he’s drawn closer. An intimate kind of closer. He thinks maybe he should out you.

But you beat him to it. 

“Hmmm, I’m amazing aren’t I? You could fuck this pussy all day yeh? All yours apparently.” 

It’s his words spouted back to him, carelessly. But now he knows you noticed him drunk on your sex, he might just be blushing. 

[thirstyforbishiesimagines]

Hehehe I had way too much fun trolling this ‘cold’ grumpy boii! Poor Eugene can’t catch a break! 

Also... Zion’s such a mood in this fic ψ(｀∇´)ψ 

Enjoy xx

.

Dangerous Fellows Christmas Event

Eugene x Reader

Fluff

🎅 🎄 I  Post-Apocalypse

.

.

“EUGENE! STOP… RUNNING!” Legs slowing down from fatigue, totally out of breath, you continue to chase after him.

“NO!” He calls back, zooming in and out of each room as you tail his every move.

“It’ll be cute! I swear!” You plead helplessly, holding out a fuzzy snowman costume toward him.

“HELL. NO.”

“Eugeneee! Pleaseee! We’re gonna be late!”

“GOOD! WE’LL JUST STAY HOME THEN!” He rushes past you, sprinting into the bedroom before locking the door behind him.

“Come on, Eugene!” You catch your breath before slumping against the door for support. “Stop being childish! Everyone will be dressed up!”

“I DON’T CARE!” He yells from behind the door. “AND WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE A SNOWMAN?!”

You chuckle lightly, not needing to see his face, you could already picture the cute pout upon his features as he retaliates.

“We all selected from a list! You refused to take part in choosing, so you were left with the snowman nobody wanted!”

You waited patiently for his reply. But as time passed, you were met with nothing but silence. Bringing your ear to the door, you could hear the quiet mumbles of a grumpy Eugene.

Realising you had no other choice, you decide to go with plan B to combat his stubborn resolve.

Pretending to sigh heavily, you slowly begin to walk away while putting on your best discouraged voice.

“Fine! You win! Let me go get changed and then we can go…”

A sinister smile wide upon your lips, you sneakily slip out a newly bought costume from your bag.

A couple minutes go by as Eugene continues to hide himself away.

Exhaling deep, you mask your mischievous grin and casually call out, “OK, EUGENE! I’M DONE! LET’S GO NOW!”

Eyes glued toward the bedroom, you watch as the golden-haired male exits the doorway, a bright triumphant smile upon his lips.

“We’re late now…” You sigh as you pick up your plate of freshly baked cookies, nonchalantly stepping out from behind the counters — now in clear view.

As Eugene’s eyes land on your figure, his winning smile gets utterly washed out by the overwhelming colour of crimson painted over his face.

“ARGH! W-WHAT ARE YOU W-WEARING?!” He stutters, completely paralysed as he shamelessly gawks at your outfit.

Cleavage pushed up to the nines and booty cheeks threatening a full display from the smallest of movements, you simply answer, “My costume?”

You head towards the front door; clad in nothing but lacy red lingerie, a red mini skirt with fluffy white trimming and a simple Santa hat.

As you turn the doorknob, Eugene beelines toward you and slams the door shut. Arms out wide, he shields you from the outside world.

“YOU CALL THAT A COSTUME?!” He questions, totally exasperated as his eyes scan over you in every direction.

“Eugene… we don’t have time for this…” Moving him out of the way, you reach out for the doorknob again before he quickly grabs hold of your arms.

“NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! YOU ARE DEFINITELY NOT LEAVING THE HOUSE LIKE THIS! GO GET CHANGED!”

“But… this role is important... Who else will be Santa then?” You ask innocently, tilting your head in fake concern.

“I DON’T KNOW! BUT IT SURE AS HELL WON’T BE YOU!”

“Eugene…”

He then grabs your hands tight, crouching down before looking up to meet your gaze with pleading amber eyes. “Please, (Y/N)! I’ll do anything, I’ll even wear that dumb snowman costume. Just please don’t wear this out.”

“…Really?”

“I’ll put it on right now if you want!” Eugene replies with desperation.

Got him.

Knowing you had him completely wrapped around your finger, you ultimately decide to ease him of his torturous distress. “Well… I guess I might have another outfit somewhere…”

Practically on his knees by now, he pleads once more. “Yes, please… just… anything but that.”

“Okay… I’ll go get changed…”

“Oh, thank god.” Eugene exclaims before slumping down onto the couch.

Taking a small peek at his defeated form as you leave, you witness Eugene laid back — hands covering his red-hot face as his voice is muffled within his palms. “Dammit… she’ll be the death of me.”

At last, you were dressed in the original outfit you had planned to wear all along. Unbeknownst to Eugene, of course. Stepping out into the lounge, you sport a pure white, long feathery dress with a floating halo attached above your head — an entirely opposite theme to the scantily clad fabric you had on just moments before.

Surely, he wouldn’t oppose to leaving with an ‘angel’.

Standing before your spiritually depleted boyfriend, you twirl around merrily before flashing him a glowing grin.

He stares for a moment before shaking his head. “No good… You’re still too cute.”

Astonished over his constant denial, you groan, “Eugene!”

“Fine… at least it won’t skyrocket my blood pressure this time.”

You stare at him as he avoids your eyes. “Your turn.”

Eugene hesitates slightly before sighing, finally grabbing the once abandoned costume. “Why do I feel played…?”

.

“I look stupid…” Eugene complains, his feet heavy with every step.

“No… you’re adorable!” You giggle as you excitedly skip up to Harry’s doorstep, hearing Eugene sigh for the thousandth time behind you.

Before you could even knock, Harry swings the door open. “Welcome!”

Eugene’s eyes go wide for a moment as he realises what Harry was wearing. You look back and poke your tongue out at him as he groans in defeat. Covered in red and white with a sack of presents to match, Harry gleams happily within his Santa costume. “Merry Christmas, guys!”

“Merry Christmas, Harry!” You beam back wholeheartedly.

“Yeah, yeah…” Eugene sighs once more, dreading the chaos within.

Harry gestures inside, “Come in! Everyone’s already here.”

Stepping into the warmly lit home, you’re both welcomed with an onslaught of greetings and well wishes from all around the room. Your eyes light up with joy as you reunite with the friends you now call ‘family’. Seeing everyone’s festive spirit made you feel right at home.

“HEYYY!!” Zion greets loudly from the kitchen. Stepping out into the lounge, you’re met with the brazenly exposed, half-naked redhead with a gold ribbon tied neatly around his neck. “Aww, well aren’t you guys the cutest?” Zion calls out as you break into hysterical laughter.

“…Aren’t you cold?” Eugene asks, wholly unimpressed, eyes creasing as thin as slits.

“You’re right… it DID get cold all of a sudden…” Zion wraps his arms around his bare form before looking in your direction. “(Y/N), did you HAVE to bring the snow in with you?”

“And… it starts.” Eugene mutters under his breath. Wiping the tears in the corners of your eyes, you try to question his clothing options—or lack thereof—but Eugene beats you to it. “So, what are you meant to be anyway?”

Zion’s eyes go wide with shock, dumbfounded by his simple question. “You can’t tell? Am I not a gift to your eyes?”

The room falls silent. So quiet, you could even hear the soft crackles of the flames within the fireplace.

Zion looks around the room, flabbergasted at everyone’s absent response. “I’m everyone’s Christmas present!”

“Bet you’re full of coal.” Eugene snickers.

“Only if you’ve been bad~” Zion fires back with a wink as he backs away toward the kitchen again, finger gunning the entire way back until he was out of view.

Eugene groans before sighing once more. “Today’s gonna be a long day... Can I take this off now?”

“Nooo! We need to take a family photo with everyone first!” Stopping him from unzipping himself and trying to lighten his sour mood, you nudge Eugene’s side playfully. “Come on! Everyone’s in the Christmas spirit and having fun!”

“Urgh… This is why I hate Christmas…”

You giggle at his predictable response before cheerfully waving back to Ethan and Lawrence sitting by the fire. “Ok, Scrooge. How about we say hello to everyone first and then go grab some food, sound good?”

He’ll be in a better mood after he eats.

“Fine… You know I’m only putting up with this ‘cause I love you, right?”

“I know.” Leaning up on your toes, you give Eugene a quick peck on his cheek. “Thank you, Eugene.”

“Yeah…” He murmurs, scratching the back of his golden tresses awkwardly.

.

Standing by the dining table filled with traditionally festive dishes, you lovingly feed spoonful’s of pudding to your now content boyfriend. For once, he wasn’t complaining about being here or feeling defensive over his attire. He began to actually enjoy himself as he caught up with everyone.

Well… That was until Zion came back to set down some eggnog on the table.

Coming up beside you, Zion looks toward Eugene before letting out a giant sneeze… a fake one of course. But it was enough to bring Eugene’s mood back to square one.

“WHY DON’T YOU JUST PUT A SHIRT ON, YOU FUCKING NARCISSIST?!”

“Man… the winter breeze sure is howling loud today!” Zion effortlessly ignores him as he snakes an arm around your shoulders. “You know, (Y/N)… since it’s so cold here, I heard that an easy way to warm ourselves is to cuddle each other while being stark nake-”

Before he could finish his sentence, with lightning fast reflexes, Eugene swipes a plastic butter knife from the table and places it by Zion’s cheek. His eyes now dark with murderous intent, voice seething in malice. “Hands.Off.My.Girlfriend.”

Zion immediately takes his hands off of you and raises them up as a sign of mercy. “Whoa… Chill, bro.”

“Ayeee~” Judy chimes in as she reaches out her hand for a synchronised fist bump with the proud redhead.

“Pfft-” Failing to stifle your chuckle, you go into an uncontrollable fit of laughter again, having way too much fun from everyone’s shenanigans.

Eugene snaps his head toward you, a look of utter betrayal in his expression. “Really, (Y/N)? That joke got you too?”

“I’m s-sorry… The timing… was perfect!” You manage to say as you clutch your stomach, giving in to the giggles.

About ready to burn his costume at this point, Eugene barks out, “CAN WE TAKE THIS DAMN PICTURE ALREADY?!”

.

Now cozy in their everyday clothes—after the chaotic madness of capturing the perfect group photo—the mood was tranquil as everyone chatted amongst themselves.

A moment of calm washed over the both of you as you sat comfortably within Eugene’s embrace by the roaring fire. A glass of warm eggnog within your palms, Eugene rested his chin within the curve of your neck — drained from the constant torment.

“Finally… Zion can leave me alone with his lame ass dad jokes now.”

Feeling somewhat responsible and guilty for putting your boyfriend through such turmoil, you decide to sneakily lead him away to a place that Harry secretly set up for you.

“What are you planning now?” Eugene’s eyebrow raises, underlying skepticism within his voice as you slip away from the party.

Spotting the hanging mistletoe in the hallway ahead, you eagerly drag Eugene over and situate him right underneath. 

“OK! Now, look up!”

Eyes raising toward the ceiling before settling back on your expectant gaze, he smirks roguishly, “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just asked.”

Is it too cliché?

Suddenly feeling horrified by how enthusiastic you were, you cover your rosy cheeks with your palms and attempt to run off. “You’re right! This is dumb!”

“Hey!” Eugene protests as he hastily grabs you by the hand and gently pulls you into his arms, chuckling as he witnesses your bashful demeanour. “It’s only fair if I get to tease you a little too…”

His hand reaches up to caress your cheek, thumb gliding over your mouth as it lingers upon your soft lips. Leaning in close, his hot breath inches from your skin, he whispers, “How are you so adorable?”

Without a moment of hesitation, your eyelids flutter to a close — anticipating the warmth of his lips pressed upon yours.

Just as you were about to close the gap however, a wolf whistle echoes from the end of the hall.

Both taken aback by surprise, you turn your heads to witness a sneering Zion leaning against the wall… watching in amusement. “Oh, ho ho~ Be careful, (Y/N). If this gets any steamier, Olaf over here will melt away!”

Your face burns with embarrassment having been caught in the act of such a lovey-dovey scene. Infuriated by his interruption, Eugene blows up in rage for the... how many times today? You seem to have lost count at this point.

“SERIOUSLY, ZION! DO YOU EVER SHUT UP?! I’M NOT EVEN WEARING THAT STUPID COSTUME ANYMORE!”

Waving his hand indifferently in dismissal, Zion wanders off, dusting his hands like he had just completed a job well done.

“God, he’s so irritating! How is he everywhere?!” Eugene grumbles as he massages his temples with his fingers.

“Even I’m starting to get annoyed now.” You admit, your eyes falling into aggravated slits at Zion’s retreating form.

“We should have never come…” Eugene pouts, his expression reminding you of a provoked cat.

Cute...

You wrap your arms around him, hoping to calm him again. You hear him sigh in frustration as he returns your embrace before nuzzling his face into your (h/c) locks. “You know he only teases out of love, right?”

He scoffs at the thought.

Taking his hand in yours, you smile knowingly. “Plus, you don’t need to hide it, I know you enjoyed seeing everyone again.”

His attention shifts to the side, avoiding your gaze as his cheeks grow a subtle blush. “Whatever.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his innocent response.

“Anyways…” He trails off as his fingers delicately lift your chin upwards. “The only love I need is yours.”

Leaning down a second time, Eugene’s gentle lips press together with yours. Fitting together as perfect as a puzzle, you gasp lightly as he hugs you tighter. 

His scent was... reminiscent of faint firewood.

His lips... tasting of subtle hints of cinnamon.

Every part of him consumed your senses. 

As he grips your chin eagerly, your mouth parts immediately as if by instinct — welcoming his intoxicating tongue.

Contrary to what Zion believed, Eugene’s kiss left your body melting under his every touch.

As your lips part ways with his,  Eugene’s eyes were met with your fervent gaze — his eyebrows furrowing in response. “Can we go home now?”

Misunderstanding his intentions, you fail to hide your sadness. “You hated the party that much?”

“It’s not that… It was good to see everyone. But, I just… wanna spend some time with you now, (Y/N)…”

“O-Oh…Okay.” You stutter. He wasn’t usually this forward or honest, and it left you feeling a little shy. The prior hours, as you dragged on your stay, made you somewhat apologetic toward him. “I’m sorry for making you wear that costume.”

His eyes go wide before smiling warmly. “It’s fine… as long as you had fun.”

A bubbly grin on your face, you beam, “I did! Thank you, Eugene!”

Eugene chuckles quietly in response as he ruffles your hair. “Anyways, I guess it was worth it.” He then clears his throat uncomfortably. “…You looked beautiful today.”

“Only today?” You question; your tone, playful.

Eyes closing from exhaustion due to everyone’s constant lively energy, he sighs deeply as he rests his forehead against yours. “Give me a break already… You know what I mean.”

Tittering softly, you slowly nod against him.

“Don’t even start me on that lacy shit you had on this morning…” Eugene then looks up abruptly, confusion clear on his handsome features. “Wait… You tricked me! What was that outfit for anyway? Harry was Santa…”

Giggling radiantly at the memory of your prank, you reply, “It’s a gift!”

Eugene’s eyebrows raise in curiosity before you leaned closer to clarify, “But only for your eyes…”

“Ah…” Eugene places a hand on his mouth, turning his face toward the wall and averting his gaze — hiding the faint blush upon his skin.

He then clears his throat again before looking at you in a suspicious stare. “You’re not gonna chase me around again and say you bought it for me to wear, are you?”

Although you found the idea quite tempting, you smile sincerely. “I think I’ve teased you enough for one day.”

“Good.”

Taking your hand in his, he leads you away from the mistletoe and out of the halls. Pink hues decorate your cheeks as you anticipate a festive night, spent only in the arms of one another.

.

.

x luna

[lovehugsandcandy]

One-on-One: Decisions (Colt x MC)

A/N:  Third one-shot for basketball!Colt. I have two more planned after this.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~1,500 words

Rating: R? (Swearing. One suggestive line. Idiots.)

Summary: Colt should never talk to the media...but Ellie will allow it this one time.

Ellie set up the media alert fairly early in their relationship; it allowed her to catch threatening situations before they boiled over into irrecoverable issues that inevitably would involve her bailing out her idiot boyfriend-yet again.

It allowed her to call him right after he lost his first game this season, interrupting the complete destruction of a locker room that could have resulted in a suspension. It was the reason she sped north, weaving frantically through rush hour traffic for hours, when a gruesome Achilles tear had prematurely aborted his senior year and he had to redshirt so he could actually play out his final season. It was the reason she convinced him he should never attend the post-game press conferences. Ever.

And it was now furiously dinging over.

She groaned and reached for the phone, eyes still closed, slapping the sheets once, twice, three times until she finally clasped her fingers around plastic. Her eyes fluttered open, bleary and slow, as she internally prepared herself for whatever foolish shit he had pulled.

However, before she pulled up the browser, her phone rang; it was her dad. She declined and tried to pull up the search engine when the phone rang again. Ingrid. She frowned and declined. When her dad called again, she raced to her computer, sinking suspicion that the plethora of alerts and multiple phone calls were no coincidence.

Where was he again? Texas.

She scanned the gossip rags, relieved to find nothing damaging, and then navigated to ESPNU. Oh Lord, a video. He wasn’t supposed to be talking to the media. 

She hit play.

“Your third Nationals Title is looking more and more like a lock. What are your plans for after graduation?”

Colt shrugged, looking directly at the camera, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I don’t know. Maybe the draft. My wife’s gonna go to Yale for grad school though so, no matter what, I’m gonna be in the Northeast.”

She blinked. It was overall a calculated move, signaling to anyone interested in drafting him that there were only a few pro teams he would consider. But she was more caught by the word choice. But did he just call her his...

The phone rang again, and this time she connected to her dad screeching over the phone line, “Did you get married?”

~~~~~~

She waited up for him. He usually crashed in the city once their plane landed, ditching the team bus to crash in her apartment before heading back upstate, and they would spend a few carefree days lounging at her apartment and strolling the city streets as if they weren’t facing impending graduations that would thrust them into a future they could never prepare for.

Sometimes, she would greet him with pizza and commiseration over a tough loss.

Other times, she would greet him with a shared bath, ostensibly drawn to ease sore muscles, but always ending with them both soaked and sated, huddled close under her covers, reconnecting in the most satisfying of ways.

This time, she perched on the sofa, toe ticking by the seconds, mentally mapping his route through airport corridors, then where the Dryve would crawl down crowded city streets, to where he would walk through the lobby, up the three flights of stairs, and turn the spare key in her lock. She seethed with every imagined step.

Finally, twenty-three minutes after landing, 1,387 furious taps of her toe against hardwood, jingling sounded outside her door and the knob turned, opening to reveal a broad-shouldered figure that she was going to murder.

“Hey!” He dropped his duffel bag on the floor, locking the door behind him. “You waited up?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

He froze, forward progress halting as his jaw dropped at the venom dripping from her words. “Uh… baby? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Her eyebrows climbed her forehead, and she stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong?!?!”

He blinked, mouth opening and closing, and she could practically see him reflecting on his day, the day prior, hell, the last week as he tried and failed to figure out why she was glaring daggers at him. “Uh… are you mad that I fouled out? Because, I mean, the game was over and there was forty seconds left in the quarter and-”

“No. Not that.”

“Uh…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Is it because I told Logan that if he sat next to me on the plane, I would cut his hair off in his sleep?”

She rubbed her hands over her eyes. “I had no idea you said that, but I appreciate you adding it to the list.”

“Ellie, just fucking tell me. I don’t know what the fuck you’re pissed off about.”

“Your interview.”

He blinked blankly down at her. “What interview?”

“After the game? About your plans once you graduate?”

“I thought those…” He paused, uncertain. “I thought those were our plans. Are… are they not?”

She winced at the stab of guilt; she did not mean to imply that they wouldn’t move in together after school. “Urgh, yes, they are but you… Colt, you called me your wife.”

“That’s what you’re pissed about? Seriously?”

“Yes! It’s not true and my phone has been literally ringing off the hook, and some ESPN talking head devoted ten minutes to it during one of their trashy shows and-”

“Elie, we’re basically-”

“We are not-”

“Babe, I just meant-”

“Don’t you babe me!” She stomped closer to glare up at him. “This is why Logan is the one who talks to the press.”

“What? Fuck him. And what was I supposed to say? She cornered me!”

“Oh, how about anything but that?”

“Come on, babe.”

“Don’t even.”

“Who cares what the hell they say on tv?”

“Colt…” she put a hand to her temple. “You created not only confusing press for you but also drama. For me! My dad is convinced we eloped.”

“Babe, it’s like wifey. Everyone knows I meant it like that, come on.”

“No, no one knew that.”

“Come on, wifey,” he pouted.

“Jesus Christ. Don’t you dare-”

“Wifey…” he complained while she bristled, traitorous lips twitching regardless of how hard she tried to fight the smile down.

“Stop calling me that!” 

“Oh, wifey. You-”

She groaned, jumping away to stalk into the kitchen, yelling “Oh my God!” Footsteps followed her and she spun, glaring. She tried to stay annoyed, she did, but he was fucking ridiculous, lips curved in an exaggerated frown and eyes brimming with mockery.

“Wifey....”

“I swear to God!”

His hands wrapped found her hipbones, pulling her close to kiss her neck before whispering in her ear, “Wiiiifeey.”

“Jesus!” She pushed him away, barely able to get the words out through hitching giggles. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Because you love me.” She couldn’t speak through her laughter, but she hoped the fond grin stretching over her face betrayed her thoughts. “How about wifey like marry me?”

She froze. “... What?”

“Marry me.” Time stopped and the air left Ellie’s lungs.

“This isn’t…”

“Ellie, marry me.” His eyes were intent on hers, and she had to lean against the counter to hold herself up.

“You…” she stuttered. “You asked me that before.”

That brought him up short. “I did?”

“Kinda.” Her shaking hands found the counter top behind her, and she held on for dear life. “When you got your concussion junior year against Hartfield.”

“When I was in the hospital for two days?!?”

“When you were bleeding out on the court.”

“Oh. The perfect time for major life decisions.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Well, what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything! You passed out!”

His mouth dropped open. “You left me hanging?”

“What.”

“Seriously, you just ignored me, what the heck, El?” he jeered. “You can’t leave a man hanging like that!”

“What the-” She rolled her eyes. “Colt!”

“Well, what do you say now?”

“You don’t… you don’t have a ring.” His lips stretched into a self-satisfied smirk. “You have a ring.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the piece of jewelry and holding it out between two fingers. “What? You want me to do this right? Get down on one knee and all that?” She couldn’t even answer, eyes welling with tears; he rocked back on his heels. “Uh, Ellie? You gonna answer me?”

“You-” Her voice trailed off as the tears started falling, rivulets over her cheeks, her smile; she tried to blink them away, tried to speak, tried to do something, but she could only stand there, watching him gaze at her in absolute adoration. Finally, she gave up and just nodded, slowly at first, then frantic, giggling, leaping  into his arms, not even caring that she was crying all over his university tracksuit as he cradled her close.

When she finally thought she had control of her face, she glanced up and the smile on his face made her heart skip.

At least until he spoke. “I knew you would wanna lock this up.”

“Don’t make me immediately regret my decision.”

He pulled back to shoot her a cocky grin, eyes gleaming. “You’re not gonna.”

She only smiled back, thinking, No, I’m not gonna.

.

Tags:

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Colt

ROD

@omgjasminesimone @mskaneko @lovemychoices @burnsoslow

@deimosensblog @alegria1580   @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices​  @maxwellsquidsuit  @liamzigmichael4ever​ @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @theeccentricbibliophile

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Ben Hargreeves

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 8/9

-

They’ve planned to head out early in the morning, because they will have to drive for a couple of hours to get to the more scenic part of the coast that Diego’s never actually been to himself. So the evening before he stops by Ben’s to borrow his camera. To his annoyance Klaus is also there.

Diego loves Klaus and he’s usually glad to see him and always relieved to see him in a safe and relatively normal place. He hasn’t forgotten the years of crawling along the city’s streets in his car in the dead of night, looking for Klaus because nobody had heard from him in days, or picking him up from shady ass bars, high as a kite.

But Klaus, despite the fact that he seems a little spaced out half the time, has always had an unfailing read on him and Diego really doesn’t want to get into it with Klaus what his plans are for tomorrow and why he needs Ben’s camera. Dealing with his brother’s shenanigans at the wedding was bad enough.

“So you’re taking your fake wife on a fake honeymoon beach trip to take some romantic pictures and you have absolutely no ulterior motive, you say?” Klaus asks, sipping on a large mug filled with a very fragrant and spicy smelling tea in Ben’s living room.

Diego’s leaning against the windowsill, arms crossed defensively, while Ben is over by the dining table unpacking his camera equipment and trying to pare down the amount of stuff he’s going to send Diego out with and very pointedly trying to look like he’s not listening. “First off, Lila’s my actual wife, you were literally the witness, Klaus, and second of all, yeah, I have an ulterior motive, I want to help her convince immigration officials that we didn’t just get married so she could get a visa!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, stop deflecting!” Klaus says in that mild tone of his that always puts Diego on edge.

“Why, what other ulterior motive could I have other than scamming the government?” Diego asks in irritation and then instantly regrets opening that door for Klaus. The slow grin that spreads across his brother’s face makes Diego regret a lot of choices in his life.

“I think you’re in love with your wife, you weirdo!” Klaus says, batting his eyelashes at him and Diego tries not to react, but then thinks that may be exactly the wrong choice, so a little too late he grimaces and says, “Don’t be silly!”

“Oh please, it was written all over your face at the wedding. And so much sexual tension between the two of you, maybe you should fuck and see whether that resolves it,” Klaus offers with a shrug.

“Yeah, no… that didn’t really work…” Diego breathes out and then instantly realizes the horrible mistake he made when both his brothers almost shout, “What?!” at the same time.

“Urgh, you slept with your wife, you pervert?” Klaus squeals in delight, almost falling over on the couch laughing at his own joke.

“She wasn’t my wife then…” Diego shoots back and he just doesn’t know how this keeps happening. Why is he arguing about this with Klaus? He really, really doesn’t want to talk about it, but Klaus just always manages to push his buttons.

“Oh, intriguing! Do tell!” his brother rights himself on the couch and looks at him with big curious eyes.

“Absolutely fucking not!” Diego says grumpily and crosses his arms again, trying to physically make himself shut the fuck up.

“But then what are you even doing, Diego?” Ben pipes up from the other side of the room and that is almost worse, Diego thinks, because Ben’s going to end up making a good point, “You’re clearly in love with each other, you’re having sex, you live together, you’re married, but for some reason you say you’re not actually together?”

“We had sex once, and Lila’s not in love with me!” Diego grumbles just for the sake of disagreeing with Ben.

“But you’re in love with Lila?” Ben asks at the same time as Klaus says, “Oh please, Lila is definitely in love with you! I thought she obviously wanted to bang you, but now I know she already got there that puts all the longing looks she gave you in a completely different light!”

Diego’s not inclined to simply believe his hyperbolic brother and suddenly talking about the whole thing stings in a peculiar way, so he tries to not pout when he stabs a finger at one brother at a time and says, “I’m not talking to you two about this!” Then, directed at Ben he asks, “Are you done with the damn camera? I don’t want to be here all night, should have just gotten a disposable one at the drugstore!”

To Diego’s relief, Ben holds out a small bag and he grabs it, says his very swift goodbyes, and leaves in a hurry.

-

They leave, as planned, in the early morning and at first Lila is grumpy and Diego starts doubting himself for suggesting the trip. He’d hoped that beyond getting some nice photos, he could offer Lila a bit of a reprieve from the stress of the past weeks, but once they’ve stopped off to get some coffee and donuts, to his relief, her mood markedly improves.

It’s stupid, but after what Klaus and Ben said to him, Diego can’t help watching her intently to see whether they might actually be right. But all he achieves is to get distracted from watching the road when he keeps looking over to see Lila, feet up on the dashboard, donut in one hand and take-away coffee in the other, singing loudly and badly along to the radio.

Despite the good forecast for the weather, the sun hasn’t managed to come out through the clouds yet, but, Diego thinks maybe a little overly poetically, he’d hardly notice with the way Lila seems to brighten up the inside of the car with her huge toothy grin as she looks over at him while still chewing on her donut.

“What? D’you not like my singing?” Lila asks him with a challenging sparkle in her eyes and Diego turns back to look at the road because he’s starting to worry that he might just be openly mooning over her.

“Why wouldn’t I like your singing, seeing as you’re so good at it?” he responds sarcastically.

“Fuck off!” Lila says, laughing lightly and punching him playfully in the arm with her donut hand, transferring a little of the powdered sugar onto his shirt.

“You’re in a good mood,” Diego points out. He doesn’t mind that, of course, in fact he’s endlessly relieved, but it does come as a bit of a surprise after the last few weeks in which she seemed to be on quite the emotional rollercoaster.

“We’re going to the beach! You have to be in a good mood when you go to the beach, Diego, it’s the law!” Lila explains seriously and Diego makes the mistake of looking over at her again and his heart skips a beat at the way she’s looking at him.

Klaus’s words ring in his ear, but once more he can’t figure her out. It’s just as likely that she simply genuinely likes going to the beach and is excited about it.

When they get to the shore Diego gets so distracted by all the attractions and all the different activities they get up to that he almost starts to feel like they’re on an actual date.

They take a walk along the water, joking and chatting in a way they haven’t in weeks, Lila taking off her shoes and pulling up the skirt of her dress so she can wade in all the way to her knees. Diego’s impressed as he just puts his hand in the shallow waves once to gage the temperature and decides that he has absolutely no interest in getting any other part of his body wet.

They have about twenty pictures left on the film, so they make sure to get as many different photos as possible so they can claim their honeymoon was a couple of days long, rather than just a single day trip. They have lunch on the terrace of a small seafood restaurant and then head back to Diego’s car to change into a different set of clothes and wander along the fair on either side of the promenade.

One stall offers knife throwing for prizes and Lila gets Diego to take part. He’s surprisingly good at it and lets Lila choose a prize and instead of taking one of the huge stuffed toys she picks a cheap-looking bracelet made up of wooden beads on a string and Diego can’t help but think that it really does look pretty cute on her.

As the day turns into late afternoon he buys them ice cream to take along their walk down the pier and Diego doesn’t miss the way something flashes across Lila’s expression when he hands her her cone and then turns back to the vendor and asks for a receipt for their immigration file. He has no idea what to make of it, though.

“There’s a place near London called Brighton,” Lila begins telling him as they almost reach the end of the pier, “it has this huge, gaudy pier and when I was at school they took us there on a day trip. I really didn’t like it, but then they also took us by boat to this other pier that was derelict and damaged by storms and you couldn’t get to it without a boat anymore and I much preferred that one, even though there was nothing really there anymore, except for the ruins of a victorian building.” Lila leans over the ornate, wrought iron railing and looks out at the water. “And then, when I was in my teens there was this massive fire and a couple of friends and I we bunked off school and took a train down to Brighton to take a look. We could still see smoke coming off it even the day after and there was this sooty smell on the beach and I don’t know why but I actually teared up. And I can’t quite explain it, but it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen!”

Lila turns to look at him then, and her huge brown eyes are so full of emotion that Diego finds it hard to look at her and simultaneously can’t tear his eyes away.

Lila blinks rapidly and then turns back to look out at the sea and the slowly setting sun and says in a low voice, “Don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

On some instinct Diego pulls out the camera and takes a picture of her in profile. They’ve been purposely only taking pictures of the two of them together, on occasion asking strangers and then wrapping an arm around each other, or Lila would put her hand in the crook of his elbow, because a photo of them individually will offer nothing in the way of evidence for the visa process.

Having heard the shutter release go off, Lila looks at him again and asks, “What’d you take a picture of?”

Diego looks down at where he’s winding the little wheel to the next picture on the film with his thumb and says quietly, “One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Lila doesn’t respond and when he does muster the nerve to raise his eyes up to meet hers, there’s suddenly a charge between them that feels like it might set the damp sea air on fire. He’s just about to say something, anything really, when a slightly nasal voice coming from somewhere off to the side chimes in with a midwestern twang, “Hey mister, would you like me to take a photo of you and the lovely missus?”

They both look around abruptly to see a small woman with a kind, round face look at them expectantly.

“Uh…” Diego begins, taking a moment to find himself back in the real world, “Yeah, thanks, that’d be nice!”

He hands the camera to the woman and she takes a few steps back to get them in frame and calls out, “Smile!” and he hears the camera click before he’s even managed to follow her instructions. He’s in the middle of wondering about just how dumb he probably looks in the photo when the woman looks over the top of the camera and asks, “One more?” to which Lila says “Yes!” with determination and then grips his shirt with both hands and Diego turns just in time for Lila to press her lips to his and that’s when all coherent thoughts get swept out of his mind like sand along a beach.

“Aw, how wonderful!” Diego hears the woman call out and only realizes that he’s closed his eyes and pulled Lila hard against himself when she puts a couple of inches between them, but doesn’t quite let go of him at the interruption, “Got the sunset in and everything! Here’s your camera.”

Diego lets go of Lila with one hand and she slides back onto her feet, a tiny selfish part of Diego’s brain notes that it almost seemed like she was a little reluctant, and he takes the offered camera.

He puts it back in the bag and then startles when Lila wraps her arms around his waist and presses her face into his chest, hugging him tightly.

A little uncertainly, Diego puts his arms around her and hugs her back, then leans his head down and whispers into her ear, “What’s that for?”

She mumbles against his chest, but he’s close enough to hear her, “Just don’t think I’ve really thanked you enough for what you’re doing for me!”

There are so many things he’d like to respond with but they all seem to either not say enough or far too much about how he feels in that moment, so instead, Diego tightens his grip on her and buries his face in her hair and just holds on until Lila starts pulling away.

-

The drive back to the city is a lot more sombre compared to the giddy energy that Lila had created in the car on their way to the beach. Diego looks over at her periodically, but for most of the time she’s just quietly staring out of the window at the scenery whizzing by in the half light of dusk. It’s a beautiful view, he can’t blame her, but he feels almost like she’s trying to avoid conversation with him. So not sure what he would even talk about, Diego leaves her to it and spends his time making up his mind that once she has her green card and is no longer reliant on their continued charade, he owes it to himself, but maybe even the two of them, to tell her how he feels.

-

There’s a definite shift in the way they live together after their beach trip. They never actually discuss it, but Diego makes an effort to not work until late in the evening, and it seems Lila hardly ever has any plans with friends at night, and so they spend the weeks leading up to their immigration interview cooking and having dinner together, often using the time to get to know each other as best they can and compare notes on all the relevant answers to the questions Rodriguez and his wife wrote down for them. Other times they’ll put on a movie and make popcorn and spend a quiet evening on the couch together.

It’s both perfect and absolute bliss and at the same time it nearly tears Diego apart. Because every time they sit together on the couch, separated only by the fucking bowl of popcorn that they both very strenuously take turns to put their hand in, he has to physically restrain himself from simply shoving the stupid bowl to the floor and launching himself at Lila.

It’s slowly driving him insane.

On the day of their interview they are both quite nervous and when the USCIS agent separates them and puts them in different offices, Diego can’t stop fidgeting even when the interviewer promptly comes back in to talk to him.

He needn’t have worried. They’d done a good job at preparing for the interview and between all of the photos and receipts (some of them legit others maybe slightly less so), there are no holes that anyone could poke in the story they’d created.

He is somewhat thrown, though, when the agent asks him whether he loves his wife, that wasn’t a question that Rodriguez had mentioned, but it strikes him that it’s the one question that he can answer most honestly, so he tells her that he loves Lila with all of his heart and at this point couldn’t imagine living without her, and the agent just makes a note on her notepad and then thanks him for his time.

He’s waiting in the foyer when Lila comes out looking a little flustered and Diego’s heart sinks in disappointment as he concludes she must not have gotten her green card.

“You ok?” he asks tentatively as she gets to him and Lila gives him a glassy eyed look and says slightly absentmindedly, “Yeah, course!”

Confused by her answer, Diego tries again and asks, “How’d it go?”

Lila seems just as confused when she answers, “Uh, yeah, fine!”

Feeling like there’s a misunderstanding somewhere in their conversation Diego asks head on, though he feels like he’s being insensitive, “So, d’you get the visa?”

“What?” Lila asks distractedly, then adds, looking more harassed than he’s ever seen her “Oh that, yeah, yeah, of course I did. Uhm, can we just go home?”

He’s absolutely thrown by that. He would have expected her to be significantly more excited, considering the amount of work she put in, but he thinks maybe it’s just the adrenaline wearing off, so he follows her wordlessly out of the building and back to the car.

When they get back to the apartment, Diego’s just in the middle of taking off his boots, when Lila twists around to look at him and then rushes out, almost as if she’s been holding the question in for hours, “Diego, are you in love with me?”

[jaeminscoffee]

NCT prompt list 🍒

Send in a number and a member,

Also specify the genre.

What i write - Fluff, Angst, Crack, Smut [with an open ending]

What i don’t write - Abuse, Pleasure in pain unless that’s a kink, we’re all hoes, face it.

Whom i write for- NCT, all 21 members, if this prompt succeeds, i might start writing for other groups too :D

All dialogues can be applied to any genre that you request!

Numbers can repeat, it doesn’t matter :)

While requesting for smut, please make sure to specify what type of smut you want it to be, if there’s any kink that needs to be involved and if you have a plot in mind to go with the smut, don’t hesitate to send that in either!

Here are the prompts!

1. “Get some sleep, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

2. “Oh i’m so going to get you back”

3.” Jesus can you quit it?”

4.”I kind of, sort of, maybe feel like i might ___”

5.”Wait is that my ___?”

6.”Want to go get some fries?”

7. “___ has accepted your follow request!”

8. “Can you shut the fuck up, it’s 3 am”

9. “Should i be concerned?

10.”Does it ever stop hurting?”

11.” Hey, it’s rude to laugh at someone!”

12.” I will fist fight you if i have to”

13.” I will...uh make sure to enjoy the meal..? it looks um..appetizing”

14.” Can you please come get me?”

15.”You don’t have to be alone, you never were.”

16.”Of all places, you chose chuck-e-cheese to confess?”

17.”Crying doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human”

18.”Isn’t this, like illegal?” “Probably, who cares?”

19.”And you’re running away..once again”

20.” Friends is so far off from what you really are to me, Y/n”

21.”Criticism doesn’t always equal to jealousy, babe”

22.”Maybe it’s just a hug that i need right now”

23.”You might be cute, i’m cuter”

24.”Shit mom’s calling”

25.”Bro your dragon looks dope” “that’s my cat”

26.”You think i’m dumb enough to fall for the same move twice?”

27.” They can’t do anything to me. I have nothing left”

28.”Wanna cuddle? like, platonically. Hands down, no funny business”

29.”Just stop”

30.”That’s not the nicest thing to say to the guy who basically just saved your life”

31.”and so like that..-did you just steal candy from a child??”

32.”I almost died the last time.” “But you’re alive now come on”

33.”Alright first my hoodie, then my sweats, take my boxer next”

34.”How long have you been standing there for??”

35.”Don’t bother loving me until you love yourself”

36.”let’s just try getting along for once alright?”

37.”Kissing burns around 6.4 calories per minute, wanna try it out?” “did you just call me fat”

38.”OH MY GOD COCKROAC-” “That’s your hair dumbass”

39.”So do i wash the vegetables with washing detergent or plain water?”

40.”Urgh i feel ugly” “bitch what”

41.”I love you” “Did my mom pay you to say that”

42.”Hey Hey! watch where your legs are”

43.”I believe in you.”

44.”I can’t believe i just agreed on wearing your clothes”

45.”Never ever, think that i’ll leave you”

46.”You fought with them even after i warned you not to. What do you have to say for yourself?” “Oops?”

47.”Just stay like this a little longer”

48.”I wasn’t the bad guy the entire time. You framed me to calm yourself down and i don’t blame you”

49.”Hey! just cause i love you doesn’t give you the rights to steal my food!”

50.” The amount of love and adoration i have for you is terrifying and i’m now concerned”

51.”How in tartarus did you pass your driving test.”

52.”Cuddles?” “Cuddles.”

53. “It’s fine, it really is” “It isn’t”

54.”Stop being so nice all the time, it won’t make people love you more”

55.”Oh dude he/she’s flirting”

56.”I hate you.” “I hate me too”

57.”Maybe if you’d let me, i could be your safe space in this harsh world”

58.”Do you trust me?”

59.”I will deny you death until you beg me for it”

60. “Don’t ever try to get inside my head. It’s too dark for you”

61.”I wasn’t always the one being hunted, I used to be a hunter”

62.”I’m trying, all the time trust me. But it’s just too hard.”

63.”Are you flirting or starting a fight?”

64.”I wish i’d never met you.”

65.”Don’t scream. Don’t move.”

66.”you’re the closest thing i have to a girl/boy as a friend so”

67.”I don’t have a choice - I never had.”

68.”You drive me crazy.”

69.”Stop resisting babe, you asked for it.”

70.”Count, bitch”

71.”You gotta work for it babe”

72.”And you say you deserve a reward huh?”

73.”So that’s why”

74.”Keep moving princess”

75.”We aren’t done until i say so.”

76.”Do you have a valid reason for doing so?”

77.”Are you insane??” “That’s my middle name baby”

78.”Is this really what you want”

79.”You know the drill princess, one word, and i’ll stop.”

80.”You are such a fucking brat..”

81.”I see..But does he make you feel as good as i can?”

82.”That is, by far, the cutest shit i’ve seen my entire life”

83.”Try to stay quiet, understand?”

84.”Behave”

85.”What did you just say?”

86.”Oh darling, you are so in trouble.”

87. “Don’t leave any marks.”

88.”Tell me what you want.”

89.”I want you. Right here. Right now.”

90.”Get on your knees. Now”

91.”I don’t like repeating myself, baby.”

92.”Do i make you nervous?”

93.”Don’t make me take you home and punish you”

94.”This isn’t just a one night stand, You aren’t meant for a one night stand. You know that, right?”

95.”You’re so fucking addicting.”

96.”Don’t test my patience, princess.”

97.”Tsk, sensitive. Pathetic.”

98.”You make me feel things by doing the bare minimum and i’ll show you that.”

99.”This is what you wanted all the time, isn’t it?”

100.”I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home.”

More to be added soon! ♡

[jaefluenza]

“Only fools fall for you” — R e n j u n (ft. Yangyang)

‘Summer Dream’ project

“If you think this is not going to get better, then I’m done as well. I’m leaving, jun.” You muttered slowly as your dull eyes landed on the drunk mess of a person all splattered on the sofa.

“No, I think it’s not the right time and way to talk about that. Not now, okay?” He drinks his last shot and you roll your eyes, obviously annoyed by his nonchalant attitude.

“Then when? And how? You’re always out and come back drunk whenever you want to. And here I am, foolishly thinking that this summer you can be home with me, us having fun together under the hot summer sun- but no, all of that will just be a dream.”

“Only fools for you, Renjun. And I am that fool.” You muttered out for the last time before you slam the front door angrily, not planning to come back before he gathers himself all together.

“Think about it, Y/n. He doesn’t worth your time, you always spend your time alone. And when you need someone’s help? It’s always him,” your friend pointed at the guy friend under the parasol next to yours, Liu Yangyang.

“Renjun was just busy. He actually told me that he might not be able to spend lots of time with me this summer because of his works.” You reasoned out. Your friend shakes her head, “No, I think you’re just too blind. Urgh, enough talking about this, now let’s go have some blast, feeling the water or whatsoever. Go, Y/n! He’s waiting.”

You look at Yangyang, who’s walking closer to your tent with a smile. His shirt was thrown away, and even though you could hear the squeal from your friend’s side, you just couldn’t... feel anything about him.

“Hey, do you want to go with me? The waves are pretty good,” Yangyang uttered as he takes your hand in his and you let yourself go with him to enjoy this hot summer even though it’s not pleasantly enough when you’re not with Renjun.

“I’ve always wanted to learn surfing, but he never got time to teach me.” You mumbled as you keep your eyes on the surfers around the shore.

Yangyang raised his eyebrow, “Hm? Him, who?”

“No, it’s nothing. You can forget that,” you smile bitterly.

That day, your friends ended up buying a lot of alcoholic drinks and beverages, and you were left with no choice but to drunk the night away.

You feel a little bit tipsy, eyes getting blurry but you keep walking around the party house to find some fresh air. You hold the cup tightly as you try to walk properly, legs eventually leading themselves to go into a strange room.

“Oh, y/n. What’s up?” A familiar voice greets you from inside, and you find yourself entering the room even more. “Yangyang? Is that you?”

“Yeah, this is my bedroom. Come, you can sit here.” He pats the empty spot next to him on the bed, and your drunken ass listen to him as you walked towards him. He put his hand on your thigh as soon as you sit next to him, “What happen? You look so tired, do you want to sleep here?”

Even in your blurry eyes, you could see that he’s leaning closer towards you and you could sense that something bad is going to happen.

“Yangyang...” you muttered.

“I’m always here for you, y/n. What else do you need? Am I not enough for you?” He leans closer to your lips and you only stutter in nervousness. an inch away and he can feel your lips-

“N-no.” You uttered. “No?”

“No. You can’t do this. We can’t do this, you’re not him. You’re not my boyfriend, you’re not Renjun!” You pushed him away as you stand up shakily, try to get out of the room. Yangyang stands as well and he grab your hand tightly, trying not to let you leave. “Y/n, you listen to me-”

“No! I wanna go home, Yangyang, let go of me now.” You try to get out of his grasp but his strength is nothing you can escape from so you only yell out for someone’s help.

“Don’t be like this-” before you know it, the door opened and then Yangyang falls out of your sight, along with a big loud thud on the ground. “Shit! Who are you-”

“Don’t even try to speak, you son of a bitch. Don’t touch my girl, or else you will get it from me.” A familiar voice, Renjun? You thought.

“Let’s go, baby. Now you’re safe with me.”

With that, he takes you out of the party and drive you to another strange beach house that you’ve never seen own by him.

“Where are we, jun?” You asked. He said nothing but instead, taking you out of the car gently. After entering the house, he makes you sit on the sofa and he kneels in front of you, visible eyebags on his beautiful face as he frowns.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m such a terrible person for leaving you out for the past few weeks, I don’t deserve you,” He uttered. He takes your hand in his as he caresses it gently, making you feel warm and honestly, there’s no more anger left in you when he’s being like this.

“These days I’ve been so busy, and I’ve been wondering as well, am I not enough for you? Am I being good for you? I know we don’t really match to each other and that we have a lot of differences. I know I’m not like one of your friends, who knows how to have fun and stuff, but I gathered myself back, and I decided that I still want us, I don’t give a single fuck about anything else but I love us, Y/n.” He paused before he asks, “Would you take me back, Y/n?”

You feel yourself sobering up while he confessed the whole thing to you, and you feel your tears falling down, both sad and happy tears. You nod gently, “Yes, Renjun, of course I would, I won’t let go of us ever again.”

Renjun sighed in relief, as he leans up to taste your lips, making up the mistake he foolishly did, and filling up all the holes made when he was missing you.

You close your eyes tightly to the kiss, hands automatically wrapped around his neck, and his hand starts to roam around your body as well. The moment he let your skimpy summer dress falls down, the night feels complete when he’s by your side.

Hours later, you found yourself cuddled up with him naked on the bed, enjoying each other’s presence before the dawn comes. A smile drawn upon your face as you feel him kissing your shoulder passionately. “Renjun..” you mumbled and he replied back with a hum.

“Please teach me how to surf tomorrow.” You turn around to look at him and he only nods to you. “Of course, why else would I rent this big ass beach house? We’ll spend a lot of time here, baby.”

Your eyes lit up in delight even though they were going to heavily fall asleep in a moment. “You gotta promise me.” You mumbled before you yawn, and he chuckled as a reaction.

“Pinky promise,” he said while bringing your pinkies all together as a promise. You smile before eventually drifting off to sleep in his arms.

nct dream masterlist

nct 127 masterlist

[sophrosinn]

indescribable

synopsis: Fashion photographer Bakugou Katsuki’s world got irrevocably changed when he inadvertently met Uraraka Ochako, whose fiery eyes are strangely familiar to him for some reason.

prompt: je ne sais quoi, a French phrase which literally translates to “I do not know what.” It is commonly used to describe a certain quality that cannot be adequately put into words.

word count: 1,628 words

note: Shout-out to @vanaera and @senfleurs for being the bestest friends a girl could ever ask for. Seriously, I hope you both realize just how much your words have motivated me to continue writing.

If you have noticed any inaccuracies, please let me know. Also, I am unsure as to whether or not to continue this. I guess we’ll see in time. Comments and constructive criticisms are highly appreciated! ❤️

—

Under the bright stage lights, as if it was only natural, Katsuki’s eyes found hers immediately among the sea of hopeful faces. She, with her soft pink ensemble, doe eyed look, and short but curvy physique, stood out in the crowd of skinny figures dressed in the fanciest clothes with practiced smiles and brimming with confidence. It was ironic, to say the least, that it seemed that his eyes automatically singled her out when there was nothing remarkable about her appearance: a simple white buttoned top with cut-out shoulders tucked into her pastel green flowing skirt. Her eyes, though, were different from her otherwise inconspicuous get-up. They sparkled with unflinching determination, almost breaking through the surface of her fragile mask of composure. It was a look of pure challenge, taunting and daring, and fuck, it looked really good on her cherub face. Not one to back down from challenges, Katsuki stared right back, unable to stop the feral grin from breaking out on his face.

This should be interesting, he thought.

“You, round face, at the back,” he called out, resolutely, as if there could never be any other choice than her (and perhaps, there never was). His voice reverberated against the four walls of the studio room, halting all the quiet conversations and nervous ramblings among the participants at once. “With the orange headband and grass skirt.”

Everyone turned to look at him, for this was the first time he had spoken after he was introduced ten minutes ago. not that he needed any kind of introduction. He was Katsuki Bakugou, a photographer whose name has long been circulating in the fashion industry for having featured in and worked with various famous magazines. His parents have long since established the family’s reputation by creating the most glamorous and avant-garde designs to grace the catwalk. While Katsuki chose a path for himself, opting instead to work behind a camera, he did not stray too far from his parents’ influence. 

Nonetheless, in spite of his wish to separate his career from his parents’ connections, he quickly rose to fame for being a Bakugou. Katsuki, being his usual self, did not bother to prove himself to anyone else. After all, his photographs, which were more than enough to showcase his abilities, never failed to capture the candidness and reality beyond the fabricated portrayal of the world of fashion. 

And now there he was, inside a spare atelier in his parents’ building, searching for a suitable candidate for his next project. Given his work history, it was not unusual that out of all the stunning women occupying the same room as him, he chose her.

She, who must have been unconsciously looking at him, but was actually intensely focused on something else. Because the second he pointed at her form, she froze. As did everyone else, and a beat of unnerving silence passed. 

Her eyes went wide in bewilderment, surprised at the sudden attention. When she answered, it was meek and hesitant. “M-me?” She pointed at herself, and under the scrutinizing eyes of the other hopeful attendees, she reminded him of a gazelle about to be preyed upon by a pack of hungry lions.

It was fucking hilarious to Katsuki, the duality with which the girl held herself. Just a moment ago, he glimpsed a vexed goddess, looking every bit as someone rudely awakened from her eternal slumber. Now, it’s gone, and there’s barely a trace of her left in this fragile girl. 

“Yes, you,” he replied, “what’s your name, round face?”

Ah, there it fucking was, he thought as he was regarded with that same blazing look in her eyes. But as quickly as it came, it was gone underneath her lids as she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath before replying in a steady voice, “Ochako Uraraka, sir!”  

Although he was expecting it, he had to admit that he was surprised to hear the strength in her voice. From that distance, he can almost see her fists clenched at her sides. 

“Uraraka,” he breathed, amused at how strangely natural it seemed to roll off his tongue. “Follow me then.”

Uraraka immediately nodded, squeezing in between the women standing in front of her, before following Bakugou who’s almost out the door. However, Kirishima, Bakugou’s optimistic friend and close companion, stopped him from leaving by asking: “but what of the other girls?” 

“Escort them to the exit, and make sure they don’t loiter and find any of the old hag’s stuff lying around. It’s almost fashion week, you know how fucking chaotic it gets.”

“Got it, Bakubro.” Kirishima saluted him, about to turn the other way when he immediately stopped. “Even if I’m so not your assistant.”

Smirking, Bakugou crossed his arms and raised one of his eyebrows at Kirishima. In return, Kirishima stared at him unnervingly, and by the looks of it, it seemed like an unspoken conversation was ongoing between the two men. 

In the end, Kirishima sighed good-naturedly, putting his hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. “This is why they say you run your assistants dry,” Kirishima quipped, shaking his head at Bakugou before he turned to the side, smiling brightly at Uraraka. “Nice to meet ya, Ms. Uraraka! I’m Kirishima! Play nice, Bakubro!” 

With that, he winked at Bakugou and took off.

“That dumbass,” Bakugou muttered, walking out the door and motioning for Uraraka to follow him. 

In the silent hallway, Uraraka cleared her throat awkwardly. “Uh, Bakugou-san? Sir?”

He grunted in response.

“I just want to say thank you for choosing me. I know I’m not that pretty as all those other girls, and given that I just came from the province, I probably wouldn’t know what to do but I promise I will do—”

“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue and ran a hand over his hair in frustration. Apparently, this girl has not seen any of his works; when did he ever choose a conventionally pretty model? He, honest to God, never cared for looks; his photographs attest to that fact. “Don’t be fucking daft, I didn’t choose you because you’re pretty.” He paused and turned around, intending to let his words sink in. 

At the same time, he also took the chance to look over her form (average height, chopped angled bob cut for her brown hair, functional clothes), which, as he noted beforehand, were nothing out of the ordinary. He gazed at her face, and as he did, he was once again greeted by those fiery eyes—that same look which demanded his attention. There was a fire burning just beyond the surface of her brown irises, as bright and dazzling as the afternoon sun, when her face twisted in irritation. He was pleasantly surprised to see that. But in just a blink of an eye, the look was gone, replaced instead by embarrassment as she averted her gaze away. 

Bakugou internally groaned. Dumbass wears her fucking heart on her sleeve. How. Wonderful.

“You’re right, I'm not pretty,” she eventually whispered, quite dejectedly if he must note.

“Listen, it’s because I am not looking for someone pretty—if I were, you wouldn’t be my first choice. And goddamn, are you blind or something? You are pretty.” At that, she jolted in surprise and stared at him, dumbfounded at the sudden compliment. Fuck, even he was shocked at himself. “Not beautiful, just, pretty, urgh, fuck off,” he immediately amended which earned him a giggle. 

“Really?” she cheekily replied, and he ignored her in favor of maintaining his cool. 

“Here’s the thing, the fact that you’re here means that you thought you’ve got what it fucking takes to succeed in this line of work.” She nodded, opening her mouth, perhaps intending to contradict him but he wasn’t quite finished chiding her. “And goddamn, you do. Don’t waste my time and my fucking trust, which I don’t freely give to just some random extra, if you’re just gonna spout some nonsensical bullshit about your appearance or whatever fucking absurd things you’ve got going inside that head. I’ll say this only once: this industry is not for the bitch ass whiny pissbabies, and if you think you are one of those, then fuck off and don’t return.”

Fucking hell! So much for cool. 

He took a deep breath, releasing the tension in his shoulders, before he turned to look at the round-faced newbie whose face’s—wait, what the fuck, are his eyes deceiving him or does she really have the guts to outright laugh at his face?

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Uraraka spluttered, covering her mouth to stifle her giggles but it was for moot. He watched dumbly as she tried to stop her laughter, eyes crinkled with tears flowing down to her rosy cheeks. Frozen still, immobilized by the ringing sound of her carefree laughter in his ears, Bakugou had the sudden urge to reach for his camera and immortalize the breathtaking moment. 

“You, Mr. Bakugou, sir! Thank you for your words, as harsh as they may seem, I mean—that was your attempt at bolstering my confidence, right?”

“Fucking—call me Bakugou. Don’t add any ‘sir,’ makes me feel goddamn old.”

“Well, your scowl certainly makes you look like a grump,” she offhandedly commented. 

“What?!” he barked. This chick was really testing the limitations of his short fuse, huh? 

She immediately jerked upright at the tone of his voice. “Nothing, si—I mean, Bakugou! E-he.”

He exhaled through his nose. “What-the-fuck ever, I’m out of here. Tell that red-headed idiot,” he pointed at Kirishima who’s running to catch up to them, “your contact details. Or don’t, see if I care.”

“Don’t worry, Bakugou,” she called out behind him, “I won’t give in! I'll have you know I'm tough!”

He didn’t doubt her one bit.

[spiderparkerpeterman]

so basically i’m baby

hmm. my last fic wasn't very popular, oops. back to fluff and feel-good content! enjoy!

content: fluff, reader being done with peter's shit, shenanigans involving those of the fur and baby kinds

warnings: reader is a meme because i have chaotic energy, lapslock, minor existential stuff

word count: 2139 (fuck oops)

--

you were lying on your stomach on peter's bed, watching him putter around his dorm room, putting together a presentation for his photography elective. you didn't have a due date for another week, so you had taken the chance to lounge around and laugh at peter for his assignment woes. you were scrolling through instagram when an ad for some baby clothes company came up.

"urgh," you groaned, "i look up baby carriers one time and now instagram thinks i'm pregnant."

peter looked at you from the floor where several undeveloped rolls of pictures surrounded him. "why'd you look up baby carriers?"

"i thought it'd be funny to put my spider-plushie in there and carry it around campus. like 'here's my baby, oh wait it's spider-man!'" you replied with a grin.

"i should have never allowed spider-plushie to be made. you're a menace to society, y/n," peter replied. "anyways, what's so bad about instagram giving you all those ads? never too early to start looking for good baby stuff."

you raised an eyebrow. "i'm not going to hoard baby supplies for a baby that i'll never have, peter. that's weird."

"what do you mean, 'for a baby you'll never have?'" peter asked, to which you groaned again.

"peter. my darling. love- no, wait- larb of my life. i thought you knew? must not have told you. i don't really want kids," you said, shuffling to the edge of the bed so you could hang off of it, putting your hands on the floor to keep yourself horizontal. you were really close to peter's face.

peter's now sad, pouting face.

"you don't want kids?" he asked, feeling his future almost melt away. he'd always imagined having a few kids, watching them grow up and go off to school and then college and growing old with you in your cosy little suburban house with a nice backyard and secret basement for all his spider-man needs. peter loved kids. he often went to orphanages and hospitals to play with and give hope to the kids of new york.

"sorry," you said honestly. "i've just never seen myself with kids."

"you'd make a great mom though," peter whined. you blushed a little- it was a nice compliment, sure, but motherhood wasn't really your style.

"thanks, but... i dunno. it's just not for me."

"not even hearing tiny human feet running to you after a hard day of work and having the tiny little body belonging to said tiny little feet run into you, babbling about how they missed you?" peter asked, his puppy-eyes in full effect now.

but you weren't going to fall victim to his tricks. "no," you replied, a soft smile on your face. "that's your dream, not mine, babe. 'no kids' is the first clause of my mental relationship contract."

"but why not?"

"like i said. not my thing."

--

three days passed, and you had started on your assignment. it was now peter's turn to hang around your dorm and laugh at your assignment woes. you were at your desk, typing away; peter was sitting against your bed on the floor, messing around with his camera.

he cleared his throat. you decided to ignore him, thinking it was just something he needed to do. but then he did it again. you spun your chair to face him.

"yes, peter?" you asked with an air of exasperation.

"i was just thinking. about what you said the other day," he replied, innocent smile on his face- but you knew better. you knew what he was talking about- that damn kids conversation, but you decided to mess with him a little.

"what did i say the other day? was it the thing about deep-dish pizza? because i'm still absolutely serious about that, you know. or was it about naming my spider plant peter- is that a little too on the nose? because the name has stuck, i'm not changing it," you said, giving a leaf of peter the spider plant on your desk a soft stroke.

"ha ha," peter deadpanned. "first of all, i'm still deeply, truly offended about the deep-dish pizza, this is new york, we are not heathens. secondly, naming a plant after me is a little weird. thirdly, it's about the kids thing."

you raised your eyebrows and formed your mouth into a little 'o' in mock surprise. "that little old thing?" you asked, heavily faking nonchalance. "i do not remember it. i cannot read suddenly, i do not know."

"it was a verbal conversation, babe," peter laughed. "it's just- you don't wanna feel that fear and apprehension but also relief of sending your kid off to their first day of school? being so proud of them for making it this far, knowing that it was all you?"

you shrugged. "again, not really for me. i don't like feeling, peter, you know that."

"you literally sobbed over that talking dog movie the other day," peter pointed out, and you flapped a hand at him vaguely.

"i was on my period, hormones do that to you," you huffed. peter just looked at you with his eyebrows raised. you stared at him, before- "okay, fine, he was abandoned, that shit's sad! and right at the end of the movie? who does that! so i feel very strongly about dogs being abandoned. but other than that, i don't like feeling, having emotions is so last year."

peter laughed, so you turned back around and continued your essay.

--

it was another week before peter brought up the kid thing again. you had refused to even so much as think about children the whole time, because how dare peter try to out-debate you.

that was until you were having your fortnightly date night, involving a nice dinner, and a walk around central park, or watching a movie at the cinema, or just ordering pizza and making a blanket fort to watch disney movies in. on this particular night, you had gone to mcdonalds and ordered exclusively off their breakfast menu then left to have a faux-picnic at the local play park. it was almost seven in the evening, so all the kids had cleared off to go have dinner because it had gotten dark, so you two were sitting on a wooden bridge between the slide and mini rock-climbing wall.

peter was staring off to the side of the park, where a small group of teenagers were playing basketball on the one-hoop court. you stared at him.

"whatcha thinking about?" you asked, taking a bite of your mcmuffin.

"what if we have a kid and they grow up and want to go play basketball with their mates at seven in the evening and you're, like, worried they'll get mugged or make bad choices but also happy that they've got friends and do sports and trust you enough to ask?" peter blurted out. you stared at him, mid-chew.

you swallowed thickly. "if you wanna go play basketball with the kids so bad, go. i'll keep your food safe for you. by eating it."

"no, i'm serious!" peter looked at you. "like, that's a milestone! but what if the kid gets mugged or kidnapped or something and we have to pay a ransom or call the police about it?"

"you're spider-man, peter," you pointed out, now taking a sip of your milkshake. "you'd probably go and watch over the kid then rush home when they leave and try to be nonchalant about the fact that you were just watching them, and they'd see through you because you're a horrible liar or something."

"does this mean you want a-"

"no."

peter flashed his puppy-eyes at you, but you were too busy seeing if mcmuffins, hash browns and milkshakes tasted good when eaten at the same time to care.

--

"ok, y/n," peter announced as soon as he opened his dorm door for you, "i thought about why you don't want kids. most mothers are terrified of childbirth. so, and hear me out, we adopt."

you put your bag down on his floor and flopped on his bed. "nah."

"seriously?"

there was something in peter's tone that made you sit up and look at him, fully prepared to be sincere and honest. "pete, look. it's not childbirth that scares me- i mean, yeah, that much pain is terrifying and i never ever want to go through it, but... i just don't like kids. never have."

"why? how can you not like children, they're adorable."

you raised an eyebrow. "they're messy. snotty. gross- dirty in general. they can't wipe their own noses until they're like, three. that's disgusting, i'm not cleaning other humans' snot off their faces. you get no sleep, no breaks, and you know i'm not a people person- i can't really handle being around people 24/7. even you, pete, i'm sorry," you explained, and peter pursed his lips.

"you like your cousins," he said.

"i kind of have to like my cousins, pete. but i don't have to see them every hour of every day. i barely even see them once a month. i need breaks, and rest, and to be alone sometimes. and to be appreciated. and validated. i'm basically baby and need validation, like, all the time. kids don't do that." you stood up and walked to peter, holding his hands. "i know how much kids mean to you, and maybe i'll change my mind in the future, but right now, i'm scared."

"of what?" peter whispered.

"of growing up. of being responsible for another human life. of having to be an adult and having all these responsibilities. i love you and i trust you, but i don't like to think of the future too much. i live in the present, pete. live mas, forever is composed of nows, everything else is uncertain, carpe diem, the world is burning, hotel trivago, i don't know," you sighed, "just trust me on this, okay?"

peter nodded, giving you a quick kiss. "i love you so much, i'm sorry for bugging you."

"it's okay, love," you giggled, "it was getting kind of funny, actually. you did research on why people don't have kids. that's hilarious."

peter laughed, dipping his head down. you poked at his curls. "i guess i got a little carried away."

"live the extra life, peter. never let anyone tell you that there's such thing as getting carried away."

--

you were sitting in a class, barely awake, your laptop in front of you showing an empty word document. your silenced phone lit up, showing your lock screen of peter running into tape in the doorway of his room at aunt may's apartment. you unlocked it to see peter's newest text message.

peter: i did a thing

y/n: oh god what did you do

peter: i found a baby

y/n: i'm sorry? a whole ass baby?

y/n: you found an entire baby? lying around????

y/n: peter we talked about this you know i'm frightened of responsibility, that's your thing

peter left you on read, so you stared, mildly outraged, at your phone, totally ignoring your professor. ten minutes later, peter replied.

peter: sorry the baby peed on my backpack i had to put it in the wash

y/n: i'm SORRY??

peter: i know we can't have babies in the dorm but he was just so cute i couldn't help myself

y/n: peter did you just kidnap a random trash baby what is happening do i need to leave class

peter: nononono i've got it, he's a little rambunctious

y/n: big words for a dumbass

peter: i couldn't say no to those eyes, y/n

a picture popped up on your screen. of a puppy. a little spaniel puppy was looking into the camera with the biggest, brightest brown eyes you had ever seen on any living being. peter's camera was so close to the puppy's face that his snout was elongated, making him look even cuter.

y/n: !!!

y/n: those eyes!

peter: those eyes!!!

peter: !!!!!!!!!!

peter: can we keep him?

y/n: i think you need to take him to the vet first

peter: i found him by a dumpster while doing patrol, i don't think anyone owns him

y/n: wait ten minutes so i can get out of class and then we are taking him to the vet, peter benjamin 'dognapper' parker, this isn't about if someone owns him it's about if this dog has worms and you just infested your entire dorm with illegal trash puppy worm germs

peter: can we name him spider-pup i think he needs to be my sidekick

y/n: PETER YOU MAY HAVE JUST INTRODUCED FLEAS TO YOUR DORM BUILDING YOU ARE SO LUCKY I LOVE YOU

peter, of course, left you on read. god damn that boy.