#When You're A Little Fish People Just Straight Up Do Not Respect Your Time

[theabigailthorn]

Bigshot Industry Guy: Sorry, I’m running late, can we push back our meeting until later?

Me: No, I have another appointment immediately after

Bigshot: Sorry, I’m with another client :(

Me: So tell him to fuck off?

[custardcrazy]

Hi there! Idk if you're taking requests but here's one for now:

Ted Logan x reader

Reader works at a music shop (they bond over a love for music or a specific band). Reader doesnt play the guitar. They ask Ted for some pointers and hes all flustered trying to teach her.

you're so wild (and wonderful)

summary: It's not every day that a cute near-stranger offers to teach you guitar. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 5.2k

A/N: uhhh little to no beta so again. correct me if i terrifically fucked up some grammar thing or spelling and i'll be SO SO grateful

tagged: @kurt-nightcrawler

You'd worked at the mom-and-pop record store long enough to get a good feel for the place. 

It wasn't small, but it also wasn't big and shiny like other popular outlets; tucked into a street corner in downtown San Dimas, it wasn't exactly noticeable if you didn't know where to look. Because of that, you mostly encountered the same people -- the lady always wearing cable-knit sweaters, the teenage punk with a pretty gnarly mohawk, and last but not least the middle-aged guy who came in every so often to check if you had any new Beatles records.

(You usually didn't, but it was nice to hear him talk about how his various fishing trips went instead.) 

Sometimes, someone new wandered in now and then, drawn in by the faded sign and various music posters plastered around or on the door. Of course, not all stayed; some just found what they were looking for and left, others got overwhelmed and did the same. It didn't really matter, because most of what you did anyway was sit behind the counter and wait. 

But it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest. The hours were excellent, the pay was good, and you got a discount if you wanted to buy a record for yourself. All in all, it was totally worth the occasional music snob who ranted to you about the newer generation "ruining music" or whatever. You didn't get paid to listen to that. 

Today wasn't too different from any other -- you checked all the deliveries, made sure everything was in order, and double-checked the new arrivals. Then, you found your familiar post by the register, pulling up the familiar battered stool. It did nothing for your poor back, but it was better than standing for sure. 

Your coworker, Alice, arrived a couple minutes after you. She was slight in build with more than a few piercings, always sporting an oversized band tee. You were generally friendly to each other, but since she usually killed time by looking through all the various records and other things on sale, or just straight-up vanished into the back; you didn't get many opportunities to speak to her. Which kind of sucked, because she was ridiculously funny. In a sort-of sarcastic, biting way. 

An hour went by with nothing out of the ordinary. A couple of teenagers came in, and you watched somewhat amusedly as they attempted to pool their money to buy a Pixies record. 

Unfortunately, they had to leave empty-handed. 

You were staring at the wall when the tinny chime of the bell announced a new customer. 

Abruptly, your attention snapped up, and you got a good look at the new arrivals. 

One was around average height, with blonde curls in what looked to be a halfway-mullet and downturned eyes that made him look permanently sleepy. He looked around the store with unconcealed reverence, and it was a little funny -- but you respected it all the same. But it wasn't him that really drew your attention. 

It was the other guy he came in with.

Tall, dark-haired, rather easy on the eyes and dare you say handsome, he carried himself with an easy, loping gait that immediately stuck out to you. It wasn't often you found someone attractive quite like this, and even rarer that you had to pause what you were doing to look. (Even though the fact remained that in this case you were doing pretty much nothing, it still counted.) 

It took all of your effort to remain seated and wait for him -- well, them, to approach. 

Thankfully, it didn't take too long. After maybe a minute or two, the newcomers looked at each other. For whatever reason, you waited with extreme anticipation. 

Then they grinned. "Excellent." 

You were a bit taken aback at the way they said it in perfect unison, but didn't get the chance to dwell on it; they were heading towards you, and you had to put on your customer-ready smile. 

Though it didn't escape your notice that it came easier than usual. 

"Hey," you said, hoping you didn't sound strained, "can I help you with anything?" 

"Hi," replied Blond Guy. "Yeah, me and my esteemed colleague here would like to know if that two-for-one sign that is looking most ragged still applies." He gestured to the back, where all the various memorabilia and tee shirts were -- stuff that usually wasn't popular amongst customers, and were mostly things that the owners found in the depths of their attic. His "colleague" nodded in agreement, hair flopping around a little. 

You mirrored the nod, but with less shoulder movement. "Yeah, it goes for basically anything, since everything over there is under ten bucks." Pausing briefly, you added, "unless you try to get a tee shirt for the price of a guitar pick. Then, no." 

That earned another nod from Tall Guy. "OK, that makes sense. Thanks, dude." 

He grinned, and his smile was bright enough to rival the sun; you were momentarily blinded, but were able to smile back. "No problem. Just ask me if you need anything else." 

When the two boys turned away to inspect the goods, you heaved an internal sigh of relief. 

And for once, it wasn't because the customers were being annoying. 

You put in the bare minimum in pretending to not be staring; only glancing for a split second at the pages of your battered magazine that served as time-killing material before looking back up. But, seriously, even if you were doing a poor job, neither of the guys seemed to notice. They were pretty engrossed in examining a couple Garfield mugs. 

After that, they actually moved on to the records -- lingering near Hendrix but not dwelling long on Herb Albert, and then making their way through the racks from there. It was a personal hobby of yours to guess what a customer would buy from their appearance and demeanor alone. But you'd been too …  preoccupied to think of it, and you assumed it'd be considered cheating to take a stab at it now. 

Eventually, they returned to your counter, and you looked up at their approach. As if you hadn't been watching intently out of your peripherals. 

A single record was set in front of you, and you put down your magazine. 

"Just this one?" Peering down at it, you quickly recognized the album cover: More Songs About Buildings and Food, by Talking Heads. "Oh, good choice." 

"You really think so?" Asked the taller boy, and it was a little overwhelming with how much he was focused on you. It didn't seem like he was doing it on purpose, though. "I liked '77 a lot, but I'm not sure if David Byrne's delivery'll go well in this album. His voice is pretty distinctive, dude." 

"Trust me," you grinned, "it's good. You won't regret giving it a listen." 

Flipping the record over to peer briefly at the back, you put it back down. "That'll be $6.95." 

It took a bit of frantic searching on their part, but eventually, you slid a couple crumpled bills into the register and gave them back a nickel in change. 

For a moment, your hand just hovered awkwardly in the air, the coin in your palm. The boys exchanged glances, as if daring the other to take it. But, finally, the shorter of the two grabbed it, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. 

"What're you gonna use that for? A Tootsie Roll?" Grinning, the dark-haired guy looked proud of his joke. 

You didn't miss how he glanced over at you, to check your reaction; completely unphased by how his friend shot him a near-murderous look. 

"Shut up, Ted, you wanted it too!" 

Unfortunately, you didn't catch the blonde's name, as they were already walking away from you, record in tow. The small bell chimed once more. For a moment, you just looked at the door, the store feeling empty again. 

At least you had a name to attach to his face. 

… But it was kind of embarrassing, how you didn't even think of asking him. Maybe you wouldn't even see him again. 

Sighing, you picked back up your extremely entertaining reading material, attempting to bury your shame with a poorly-written article about a celebrity's affair. 

The rest of the day was pretty boring, to say the least. Only a couple more customers came in, but at least you made a decent amount of sales. Alice emerged from the back a couple times to put a couple ancient-looking movie posters on the walls -- you recognized Barbarella and Yellow Submarine. 

"Don't get run over," was Alice's way of saying goodbye to you, as you grabbed your stuff and headed home just after six. 

You stayed up a bit later than usual, but it didn't matter, since you had to be at the record store at around eleven or so. And it wasn't like you got lunch rushes or anything that you absolutely had to be there to handle. 

To be honest, it was barely annoying when that Ted kept popping into your mind; nobody could blame you, after all. It was rare that anybody you encountered at work was someone who legitimately had the power to capture your attention. So you entertained the feeling, right up until you arrived back at work the next day. 

Sitting down at the counter with a purpose after doing the usual routine, you rummaged around for another crappy magazine.  Now you were going to be professional and level-headed. 

And that was what you did for an hour or so. Professional stuff, like helping out a confused-looking older woman find an Elvis record, or shooing away a group of what looked to be ten-to-eleven-year-olds who tried in vain to barter for the junk that was already considerably cheaper than everything else in the store.

Everything was going well. 

Until, of course, the bell dinged again, and you just had to look up on instinct. 

They were back. 

This time, the shorter guy was wearing a backwards cap (bright red) with his blonde curls poking out the front. You appreciated that for a moment, and then, of course, your gaze slid over to him. Worn-out Megadeth shirt and all. 

To your mild surprise, he met your gaze almost instantaneously. And then he was jogging -- well, practically bounding over. 

"Dude!" He exclaimed, once he was directly in front of you. "You were so right. That album was truly heart-stirring." 

It took you a moment to recall which album he was talking about. When you did, though, you didn't hesitate to return his once-again blinding smile. "Yeah, told you so. You should totally listen to more Talking Heads, if you liked the album that much." Unlike last time, Ted's friend was hanging back, but you were curious anyway, and gestured in the blonde's direction. "Did he listen to it, too?" 

"Oh, Bill?" Nodding vigorously, Ted's grin didn't fade. "Yeah, he thought it was pretty good. But he didn't like it as much as I did." 

"At least he still liked it." You shrugged. "I mean, you were the one who bought it, right?" 

Ted glanced off to the side. "Well, I was the one who decided to buy it." He ducked his head a little. "Uh, we pooled our money, though." 

"Oh, okay." 

There was a bit of an awkward silence, before you spoke up again. "... Is there anything specific you're looking for today?" 

"Oh!" At that, Ted perked up. "Yeah, actually. I was gonna ask if there were any other Talking Heads albums here, besides, y'know, the ones I've already listened to." Quickly, he added, "uh, and by that I mean '77 and More Songs About Buildings and Food." 

"Sure, I remember." You put down your reading material, before getting off the stool and coming out from behind the counter. "Let's take a look." 

He followed behind you as you made your way to the T shelf, and stood next to you as you thumbed through the records. 

(If you concentrated just hard enough, you could feel how he was only inches away.) 

It didn't take long to find what you were looking for, thankfully. Feeling victorious, you pulled out Remain in Light. And right behind that was Fear of Music. It kind of sucked that Speaking in Tongues wasn't nearby, but if you got lucky, maybe you could find it in the countless decaying cardboard boxes in the back. 

"There," you announced, "here. This is good stuff, I think." You showed the album to Ted, and he leaned a little closer in order to get a better look. 

"It might be kind of a weird listen for some people, but it's good in my opinion. Some of the songs are kind of similar to hip-hop, and they even use elements of African music -- it's pretty cool." When you offered it to him, he took it; he handled it as if it was a delicate piece of treasure, flipping it over to read over the song titles. 

"Rad," he said, after a few moments of deep concentration. "Thanks." 

"No problem." 

You found yourself smiling along with him. "Need anything else?" 

"I think I'm okay for now." His shoulders bobbed when he nodded, you noticed. "I'm gonna look at the other albums over here for a sec, I think." 

"Sounds good. I'll be over there if you need me." 

After you turned your back to walk back to the counter, you didn't catch how he looked up -- before glancing back at the records. Once you were seated once again, the only thing you saw was how engrossed Ted was in finding what he was after. Or maybe he was just examining the album art; who knew for certain? 

It was a little while later when Bill traipsed over to Ted, and they quietly conferred. Their very hushed discussion ended pretty fast, and before you knew it, they were in front of you, and the album you'd shown Ted was placed in front of you. 

"Just this one?" You wondered if they were going to keep buying singular records. "Same as yesterday. $6.95, please." 

Again, it took a bit for the money to be collected from their pockets, but again, there was a nickel left in change. 

You didn't miss how Ted gave Bill a smug look as he reached over to take the coin from you.

Ted's fingertips were callused as your hands brushed, and 

chocolate brown eyes met yours, and 

"Do you play an instrument?" You blurted, and then winced. "Sorry, that was -- " 

" -- Actually, yeah!" 

But before you could apologize, Ted cut you off. If he was thrown off-guard by your oddly-placed question, he didn't show it; if anything, he actually looked happy that you'd asked. 

"I play guitar!" Proudly, he continued, "so does Bill! Which is great, because we can learn all the tough songs together." The previous brief animosity over the nickel completely disappeared as they exchanged glowing looks. "It is most productive." 

"Oh." Briefly, you were still caught between guilt and embarrassment, but you recovered quickly. "Oh! That's neat, actually. Guitar's a cool instrument."  

Bill seemed to take your praise in stride, but Ted -- he suddenly avoided eye contact. You carried on, though. "I've kind of always wanted to learn, but I've never really committed." Giggling semi-awkwardly, you shrugged. "Oh well, I guess. Maybe someday, right? Actually buying a guitar might be kinda hard, though. I've fooled around on a couple, but never owned one." 

"That is totally understandable," nodded Bill solemnly, "it does take a decent amount of cash and time to be able to learn any instrument." 

"Exactly," you agreed. Smiling, you nodded slightly in return. "Have a nice day, guys." 

Suddenly, Ted's attention was back on you with an intensity. You looked at him -- did he have a question about the album? -- but no, he was practically radiating nervous energy, almost looking like a deer caught in headlights. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed; he seemed to be steeling himself. 

Before you could ask if he was okay, though -- 

"I could -- " he cleared his throat, "I could, uh, teach you a bit of guitar. If you wanna." 

What?

"What?" You and Bill said, at the same time. 

"I mean, I'm not, like, prodigy material, but… " Ted's face was gradually appearing pinker by the second. "I know some stuff, at least." 

Ignoring Bill's extremely concerning look directed at his friend, you genuinely considered his offer. 

This was actually a prime-time opportunity. 

It wasn't every day that cute boys just fell out of the sky (well, walked through the door of the record store) and offered to give you free guitar lessons. Sure, it was true that you barely knew him -- but if you said no, would you even get the chance to get to know him? Probably not. You couldn't tell if he was the type of guy to back off if you said no to something like this; and that was a little scary. 

He was shuffling a little, and looked pretty nervous by the time you came to a conclusion. 

"Yeah," you affirmed. 

"That'd be nice." 

If anything, Bill looked more surprised than Ted; who, after a moment or two, seemingly remembered his ability to speak. 

"Wait, really?" Ted's face displayed open shock, before fading beautifully into joy. 

"Killer, dude." 

-- 

Turns out the bookmark you'd been using also worked pretty well as a means for Ted to scribble down his (and Bill's, apparently) address. His handwriting was a couple steps up from basically illegible, but considering that you'd noticed his hand shaking, you'd take what you could get. You had a sneaking suspicion that, even on a good day, writing wasn't his strong suit. 

The apartment building wasn't too far from your own home, thankfully. 

You were only a bit nervous when standing in front of the door. Waiting for either Bill or Ted to answer it. 

It turned out to be the latter, who looked partially disheveled as he opened the door for you, stepping aside. 

"Sorry. It's a bit of a mess, dude," he said, sounding sheepish, "uh, but trust me, it's usually way worse." 

Stepping inside, you looked around -- it wasn't the worst place you'd seen, to be honest, and it had a sense of familiarity radiating from all the stickers stuck on basically every surface, and posters, pictures, and other memorabilia everywhere. Most of the posters were of bands you recognized. 

"It's fine," you replied, as he shut the door behind you. "Is Bill home?" 

"No, he went out," came Ted's answer. "Dunno where, though. He just gave me a sorta squinty look and left." 

"Oh." 

An awkward beat, before Ted picked up the thread of conversation; thin as it was. 

"C'mon, you can sit down on the couch or wherever. I'll go get the guitars." He smiled at you. "There's probably, like, cereal in the kitchen if you want something." And with that, he practically bolted into the next room. 

Doing as he said, you made a place for yourself on the green couch, trying not to knock off any of the pillow and whatnot piled onto the surface. Not that you thought Ted would mind or anything, judging by the semi-cluttered state of the apartment -- but you didn't want to be a rude houseguest, especially during the first time he'd invited you over. 

Ted returned pretty quickly, though, carrying two guitars. One was beige, the other black and red. 

"You can take Bill's," he said, offering the latter guitar to you. "He won't mind, I think. Unless you break it or something." 

"That's not … really comforting." Taking the guitar, you placed it in your lap. "Now I'm nervous." 

"Oh. Sorry, dude." He sat down next to you, his own instrument placed on his leg in a position that looked much more comfortable. "I mean, if you did break it, it'd be most calamitous." Seeing your expression, he rushed to add, "but I trust you not to! Since you work in a record store and all." 

"That's a good point." Looking at him, you hoped you didn't appear too lost, and you adjusted the way you held your guitar to mimic him. 

"So, uh." Ted didn't seem to notice. "You wanna learn a couple basic chords? It's gonna be a bit weird at first, but you'll get used to it pretty quick." 

"Alright." 

"Stellar." Rolling his shoulders, he grinned. "Here's an A major chord." He demonstrated the finger position, and then strummed his guitar -- it looked easy enough, but still took a couple tries for you to put your hand in the right spot for it to sound right. Eventually, though, you got it, and Ted beamed. 

"That's it. Probably the easiest chord. Wanna move on?" 

"Sure," you said, "how long will it take to get used to the strings? They're a little tough to keep down." 

"Don't press too hard, it'll kill the quality." Ted adjusted himself in his seat, but didn't take his eyes off you. "If you play regularly, you'll get calluses in no time. Don't worry." 

"I hope so." You unconsciously mirrored his movement, but weren't able to hold eye contact for as long as him, and dropped your gaze to the guitar in your hands. There were a couple small scratches here and there, which was comforting; because if it could survive a few dings and scrapes, it could survive your amateurish playing. 

"I know so, dude." Ted was completely relaxed. " 'Kay, moving on -- C major chord, right? Also pretty easy." He repositioned his fingers, and strummed once more. 

Again, after some trial and error, and maybe a little help, you caught on. Ted looked pleased. "See, you got it! You're learning way quicker than I did." 

You weren't sure if it was empty praise or not, but judging from how blunt he'd been so far, you doubted it. And it wasn't like you weren't going to take the compliment -- not with how it brought a supremely light feeling into your chest. 

Ted had you practice going between the chords a couple times, to get used to switching finger positions. It was awkward, to say the least, but not outright difficult or challenging. You supposed that, with enough practice, it'd get way less fiddly. 

"What's next?" You asked, after that. "More chords?" 

"You got it!" He'd been demonstrating how to switch positions efficiently, and you tried not to focus on how his fingers easily reached across the fretboard with little to no effort. "Next, we've got the G major chord. Three fingers again." 

It was the same process as before, you thought. However, this time, you just couldn't get it right; his fingers and hand were positioned in a way that made it difficult to tell which frets he was pressing. A little frustrated, you tried for the fifth time, and yet. No dice. 

Ted didn't seem too bothered, but he sounded empathetic when he spoke up. "Oh. Lemme help, dude." 

If you were expecting anything in particular, it probably wouldn't have been him reaching over to move your ring finger onto the correct fret, and then nudge your index finger over a little. 

Your heart did a traitorous little skip. 

His hands were warm. 

"... There." Even he looked bashful as he pulled back. "Uh. That should be good now." 

It took you a moment to breathe a "thanks." 

Wonderfully, and finally, you got it right. The chord was a little shaky, but you reveled in your triumph. 

There was something thick in the air, 

but it quickly dissipated as Ted cracked another smile. "See? You got it!" 

"Yeah," was all you could muster. 

"Let's go between those three for now," he said, mercifully not picking up on your current state of mind. "I think that's a good spot to kinda review, right?" Flicking back his head to get his bangs out of his face, he continued. "I'm not going too fast, right? I'm not, like, a professional music teacher or anything, so…" 

At last, you recovered your ability to find words. "No, you're fine. The chords aren't too hard to remember, anyway." 

"Right," agreed Ted, "then, can you play the A major one again?" 

That was easy enough. You got C major right rather quickly too, much to Ted's delight. And you even remembered how to shift between the two positions in a way that didn't result in uncomfortable finger-twisting. Your fingertips were steadily growing sorer, indented by the strings, but you tried not to focus on it; you'd get used to that later. 

However, when you got back to the G major chord… You tried once. Nope. Once more? Couldn't get it. 

Third time could be the charm. 

No dice. Your guitar emitted a sound similar to that of a severely out-of-tune violin. 

"That one trip you up again, dude?" Ted frowned, but it wasn't in a disappointed way at all. More like the sympathy from earlier -- and he sounded a bit guilty, but you didn't know why. 

"I swear it's not on purpose," you grumbled, "sorry." 

" 'S fine, really." His frown melted into that same easy smile. "I get it. Imagine how long it took for me to get that one right. I didn't have a teacher at all." 

Your mind abruptly conjured up an image of Ted, just as frustrated as you were, sitting on the same couch. Struggling to learn the chords you'd gotten in mere minutes. Maybe Bill and him struggled together, when they were both unfamiliar with guitars. Like you were now. 

It was kind of a funny image. You were wondering if it was rude to think so; it probably was, right? 

But your train of thought was quickly interrupted. 

As Ted moved over. 

Closer than the last time. 

"I have a trick that helped when I first learned the G chord," he began, "uh, you just gotta remember that your middle and ring finger are on the same row, right? And the pointer is just up there." He made a couple hand gestures that didn't really help with the explanation. You understood what he meant, however… 

"Where's the pointer finger supposed to go, again?" You asked, a little embarrassed that you'd already forgotten the correct hand position. 

Ted opened his mouth to say something. His brow furrowed as he hesitated, before apparently giving up on trying to detail it with words. Gingerly, he placed his own guitar the side. 

"Just -- here. Hang on." 

Your heart swooped as he reached out again, and -- 

he was so gentle in how he guided your hand to the correct spot, before carefully nudging your fingertips onto the frets, pressing them ever so slightly onto them. 

It took him a moment to speak, and when he did, he hadn't removed his hand from on top of yours yet. He was turned entirely to face you, having been so focused on his task of helping you that he hadn't noticed -- until now. 

"Uh," he said, before clearing his throat. "So, see? Middle and ring on the same row, like I said." 

His voice was quieter. "And … pointer to the side. There." 

You risked a glance up at his face. 

It was a brilliant pink. 

But he still hadn't moved away. 

Every single nerve in your body felt like they were migrating to where your skin met his. 

"... There?" 

You echoed.

Ted finally seemed to snap back to reality -- pulling his hand back, nearly scrambling backwards on the couch, almost bumping his guitar off it in the process, with how he bounced back on the cushions in his rush to get out of your personal space. 

"Yeah!" He blurted as he did so. Face scarlet. Hand flying up to scratch at the back of his neck.

"That -- that should be good." 

And now he was avoiding eye contact. 

"Okay," you replied eloquently, mentally kicking yourself afterward. 

You had to admit, there was a little bit of suspense before you finally strummed your guitar. 

And as if from the heavens above, the correct notes finally rang out, just as Ted had demonstrated earlier. 

"There!" You declared, and couldn't help your sigh of relief. "I think I'll remember it next time." 

It took Ted a second to respond, but when he did, he'd recovered, and was grinning; even if he was still a little pink. 

"... See!" He dropped his hand back to his lap to join the other. "The same goes for other tough stuff in music. If you're having trouble, just try to find a pattern." Sagely, he nodded. "Even if it takes you a while to find the pattern, it'll be most gratifying in the end. Makes it way easier to remember stuff." 

"Yeah, thanks." You loosened your grip on your guitar. "Actually, that helps a lot. Should we go back to reviewing all the chords again?" 

Ted reached back to grab his own instrument, before flicking back his head to get his bangs out of his face. 

"Let's do it, dude." 

-- 

It was about an hour and a half later when your fingertips really started to get sore; even after said hour and a half was interspersed with several breaks, in which your very helpful teacher showed you a couple records from his own collection. And played a couple songs from said couple records. 

Most of the songs were from the albums you'd chosen for him. 

However, when it came to continuing to practice guitar, half of you wanted to bravely persist, and the other half wanted to stop. Though it was inevitably Ted that made the decision. 

"I said it'd take time for you to get calluses, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard," he said, after you winced for maybe the third time. "It hurts, right? And that sucks, that was exactly what it felt like for me during the first, like, few weeks or so." Idly, he pushed back a lock of his hair which had migrated into his face. "I think we could stop for now." 

"Yeah, okay." You put down your guitar. "You're right. I should head home to eat, anyway." 

"Right," he replied. 

There was an awkward beat, before you finally stood up. Ted followed suit.

"Yeah," you repeated, not being able to stop the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth. "Thanks. Really, it was really sweet of you to offer to teach me a bit of guitar. I only mentioned it in passing, too." 

His hand was back on the back of his neck as he walked the short distance with you to the entrance. "It's nothing," he deflected, but his expression said it all. "I'm just glad that I didn't turn out to be a horrific teacher, or something." 

"No, you were fine!" Giving him another 'thanks' as he opened the door for you, you stepped out of the apartment. "I'm just glad that I wasn't a horrific student." 

Turning to face him, you inclined your head, speaking before he could object.

"Bye. And thanks -- " 

"-- you wanna do this again?" 

It seemed even he was surprised at the question, taking into account how his face reddened. Once again. "Uh," he added, "I mean, it was fun. To hang out and teach you a couple chords. It'd be nice to hang out again." His tone was wavering. Stilted, almost. "Yeah."

It was cute. 

"Sure," you answered without missing a beat. "Give me your number and I'll call when I get home." 

His answering grin was powerful enough to power a thousand solar panels. 

You probably broke a speed limit heading home, to say the least. 

[collidescopeeyes]

HCs about an F!reader who is really good at seafaring activities getting into some fun shenanigans with Pyke and maybe even a little competitive? Bouts of his strength versus her nimbleness kinda vibes, could get funny or... FUN 👀

like contests on whose the fastest swimmer, better aimer, fisher, etc., or even if the little lady of the crew can drink all the big rough men under the table! Specifically Pyke!!

Pyke with a sailor S/O who likes making little bets

(Suggestive)

Pyke's not the competitive sort; he knows what he's good at and what he's not, and he doesn't care too much about proving it to anyone. Most of the crew think he's much too serious to fuck around like that–that’s why everyone is surprised the first time they see him tying lines to harpoons like his life depends on it cuz you bet you could do more than him. Doesn't matter what it is, if you're involved he's giving it 110%. Most of the time it's because he likes seeing you have fun and he respects you too much not to give whatever it is his all, but if you really want to motivate him, well. There's not a lot of privacy on a ship, but there's a looooong list of things he'd love to do to you when you have access to a real bed.

That being said, you've got your work cut out for you–he’s an excellent sailor in pretty much every regard, and he doesn't make the mistake of underestimating you twice, but he's also very distractible when it comes to you. You don't even have to be doing anything either, sometimes you just catch him looking. There's no beating him in spear fishing and his aim is lethal, but you might get him on swimming or climbing the rigging--be warned, he's surprisingly nimble for a man his size. Challenge him to a wrestling contest and you'll win 9/10 times, partially because he's worried about accidentally hurting you, partially because he really doesn't get how in the hell you got your leg there and how you keep squirming away, and partially because if you end up on top of him his brain just stops working. The 10/10th time he just picks you up and pins you down and there's absolutely no way out of it, he's had enough of your teasing, but by that point the contest is the LAST thing on either of your minds ;)

When it comes to drinking contests though, oh boy, people have money riding on this and the odds are not in your favor. Not only does Pyke have above average alcohol tolerance, but it's really hard to tell if he's drunk. First few drinks, he's completely unphased, he's focused, he's in it to win it. After that he's the tiniest bit slow to respond, but that's it–this is the point in the night the lighter weights of the crew start dropping out of the party, but you're still both going strong with no signs of stopping. You only start noticing he's drunk when he keeps staring at you–everyone else thinks he's just determined to win on account of his resting murder face but he's actually just thinking about how pretty you are. Then he starts getting clingy–there’s really no reason you can't be drinking in his lap and he's gonna sulk if you're not somehow touching him, why are you all the way over there :( You know he's absolutely plastered when he starts getting really distracted by the texture of your skin and nuzzling you like a cat. By this point you're just about the only ones still standing, which is good, because if anyone saw him acting like a big puppy No They Fucking Didn't. Shortly after that is the point you officially win, because he's straight up forgotten you were supposed to be competing, he's just thinking about how you're nice and soft and warm and he likes you--and then he passes out. Good luck getting free. The next morning, everyone is both shocked you won and equally disappointed they didn't see it. Pyke is…extremely hungover, but after that he'll be super impressed. You're not getting him to do that again though, he likes to keep a working relationship with his liver, thanks.

[meltlilies]

🥀🧣🍄? :)

🥀 (wilted flower) - How does your character deal with stressful situations? Is their fear response fight, flight, freeze or fawn?

So a lot of Ves' character is that he has severe anxiety from the like, mid 2060's on because of everything he experienced with his family and by extension Arasaka. He comes off so nice (read: a fucking pushover) in terms of his reputation because he can't really muster the strength to be anything else while keeping himself together. So he can't cope well because he straight up has no foundation to do so in the first place because his life is one stress after another and he's in constant flight mode. But with respect to the events of the game, it's flight but to the nth bad degree because he goes from the constant stress and overthinking and worrying to borderline numb about it all. All too accepting of whatever horrible fate or death awaits him as a result of his and his friends' failures at the hands of the Relic. He has to be dragged out of it more often than not by a third party--Johnny, his partner Mistletoe, and later on Kerry--just so he can form a response.

Oh but specifically, midway into Phantom Liberty or so, anything corp related (Arasaka especially) his response immediately becomes fight because he's had enough of them ruining his life much less other peoples'.

Post-Mikoshi he is dealing with stress by just removing himself from the situations, honestly. He has a beautiful rich husband and he's gonna take advantage of being able to just leave when shit gets bad and enjoy his company!

🧣(scarf) - What comforts your oc? Is it an item? An action? A person? Whatever it is, how any why does it comfort them?

There's two things.

Firstly is physical contact. It takes him a long time to warm up to being touched at all in any capacity but he is, by nature, a very clingy person so he jumps at the opportunity to be close to someone, even if it's just sitting with your shoulders touching while you watch a movie. But even more than that, he loves being held? Unfortunately not many people can pick him up in the state his body is currently in (being 79% metal and cyberware means you're EXTREMELY heavy and Kerry can only do so much without some muscle boosters), but he loves to lay on top of someone, even if it's just partially so he doesn't crush them. He runs a little too hot so he's just 65 inches of warm weighted blanket.

The second is actually playing music! Growing up the only thing he enjoyed were the music lessons he had with a neighbor every night, and she taught him how to play the piano and the cello. His friendship turned romance with Kerry reminded him that he used to like things once upon a time, and Kerry bought him a bass for his apartment so he could play when he was alone. He doesn't actually write any music until years down the line, but playing old songs he likes and poorly singing along helps him get into a much better headspace and actually gets him to relax enough to be meaningful. He also plays with Johnny and Kerry, sometimes, letting himself get lost in it with some company in the process.

🍄 (mushroom) - Does your character like being in nature or do they prefer the indoors? Do they have any outdoor hobbies like camping or fishing? If they prefer the indoors, why?

Outside of a couple years of living with nomads I don't think he really ever got the chance to do stuff like that. He doesn't even know how to swim when Judy takes him diving, honestly! But i think he really enjoys being outside when he can, really liking the ocean when he can ever get to a beach. He happily takes up Kerry on the offer of visiting his beach house in Florida, just sitting in the wet sand by the shore and letting the waves crash over him.

He lives chilling inside with his partners and watching a movie but he needs the change of scenery here and there, lest he go stir crazy, especially when he's not necessarily in the best of headspaces. I think one day he really would like to go on a boat and sail for a bit where it doesn't end up in an explosion, but just once. They can happily cause property damage anytime.

[enby-maniac]

Thanks, Dad.

A simple slip of tongue can result in acquisition of father figures when one combines savage friends and supportive homeroom teachers.

Your hands start to sweat a little as you wait for your result. The test your homeroom teacher had given you yesterday hadn't been particularly hard. But, after a bit of questioning, you had realized that most of your answers didn't match with the others. So, you had spent the last day in a pit of despair, trying to prepare yourself for the punishment you would receive. Aizawa-sensei gives Kirishima a sharp glare before asking him to come to the staff room after the end of the day, and you flash a brief amused smile as you watch the redhead's soul leave his body.

You're pretty sure the raven head uses this method of distributing the papers as an intimidation tactic. The corner of your lips quivers when you meet intense onyx eyes. Your teacher comes to stand by your desk before fishing out your paper from the bundle. He puts the sheet on your desk with a little more force than necessary, and you can already feel your own soul trying to follow Kirishima's. "Good job, Y/N," the man beside your desk says, and you take a moment to revel in the praise before glancing at the quiz sheet to find you've scored full marks.

"Thanks, Dad," you sigh, and your classmates go rigid at the sound of the words that fall from your mouth. You expect the teacher to move forward to give Satou his paper, but he stops in his tracks. When you realize that everyone has frozen in their place, you glance up from your marked sheet to find every pair of eyes on you. Feeling a little prickly, you meet the adult's gaze and ask, "What?"

The answer to your question comes from the explosive blonde. Bakugo Katsuki (your childhood friend, your confidant), the fucking traitor, grins menacingly and replies, "You just called the old man 'Dad'. You said, 'Thanks, Dad.'"

"Do you sensei as a father figure?" Mina asks with a conspiratorial smirk, and you can't believe you actually choose to hang out with these assholes. Whatever happened to loyalty and support?

"No, I don't," you answer, and if your response is a little too quick and words a little too defensive, it's no one's business. "I said, 'Thanks, man.' If anything, I see him as a bother figure because he's always bothering me."

The Bakusquad, except Katsuki, gasps in mock outrage. And, at this point, you don't even know what you ever saw in these idiots to become friends with them. And just because it's your lucky day Iida, of all people, joins in the teasing. He stands straight, swivels in your direction and with his customary wild hand gesticulations proclaims, "Hey! Show your father some respect!"

The sound of your forehead hitting the table resounds in the class, and giggles and sniggers follow. You feel two rough yet gentle pats on your head, and Aizawa-sensei's gravelly voice cuts through the laughter. "I take it as a compliment. You want to talk about it later over lunch, kid?"

His words sound teasing, but you know that the offer is serious. It takes a short amount of time for you to decide. Glancing at your teacher with your head planted on the table and an eye peeking from the safety of your hands, you bob your head decisively. The students who notice the nod titter. Gathering a little more courage requires time, so you take a moment before speaking up. "Yeah. I'd like that.

[sukirichi]

Hello! Can you write one about Nanami where the reader is oblivious and they're really close to Gojo so he gets jealous often. Sometimes Gojo does things purposely to annoy him and one day he just lost his composure and accidentally admitted his feelings for you.

I hope u accept if you're not too busy. Thank you!!!

— a little push

— sometimes all nanami needs is a little push.

nanami kento x fem! reader

thank you for the request anon! i’m not sure if reader is oblivious enough but i hope you like it! there’s some thick pining here hur hur, i hope you like it! i never knew i needed an easily flustered and awkward nanami in my life also this is unedited as usual

check my bio for masterlist and my milestone event! (◕ᴗ◕✿)

“Do you mind?”

Nanami sighs, silently praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear the way his heart is absolutely panicking and beating wildly right now. You’d randomly pushed him inside the teachers’ office the moment he got back to the institute at work, and now he’s doomed to hide his feelings while you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, a shaky yet excited grin painted on your face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you wave your hands in front of you, although he can tell you’re not apologetic at all. Nanami clears his throat when you step backwards to give him space, unsure if he’s happy or sad about the distance. “I was just really excited to see you back.”

Your carefree, lighthearted voice, along with that little jump in your toes combined with your statement – you’re basically asking Nanami to shrivel up already.

The stoic man remains composed, though, only shifting to adjust his tie while he stares down at you. You’re still somewhat bouncing on your feet, teeth biting your lip – a habit you had when you want to say something but contemplating whether you should. Tilting away to hide the slight flush in his cheeks, Nanami sighs again, pretending to be tired.

The last thing he wants to admit that even though he is exhausted from work, is that you’d never bother him. In fact, having you bombard him like this makes him feel like he didn’t deal with special grade curse by himself all alone just an hour ago.

“If there’s something you want to say, I suggest you get it over with. I don’t want to stay overtime and wait until the blindfolded creep comes around.”

You giggle at his insult, hiding behind your cupped palms. Crap, Nanami looks away and focuses on the birds outside instead, suddenly finding them so interesting despite never paying attention to them before. Maybe that was the curse of crushes – it had people acting differently and in complete contrast with their behavior.

“About that,” you begin almost shyly now, and Nanami practically bursts when he sees you tapping both of your pointer fingers together, gaze tilted away from him.

It makes him wonder you’re nearly on the same skill to Gojo, yet still somehow look like a small, innocent being that makes him want to protect you from everything – even if you were more than capable of handling things yourself. Well, Nanami concludes to himself, maybe you’re really just that paradoxical that it makes sense why he can never think straight around you. Maybe he’s really not supposed to understand the complexity of his feelings when you were a phenomena to begin with already.

“You see…Satoru asked me out.”

Nanami stiffens at your statement for a split second before his head whips to you so fast. You’re observant – of course you are, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer – and you easily pick up in his sudden change of demeanor. Your brow raises at his abrupt reaction, to which Nanami conceals by flexing his neck and rolling his shoulders back.

“I am simply tired from work,” he haf-lies, “So, Satoru asked you out? Will you say yes?”

His words and tone are monotonous, almost bored even, but deep inside he’s so close to beating the crap out of his co-worker. Well, not really, Nanami isn’t a man of violence, but he’s jealous. Of course he is – he’s liked you ever since Principal Yaga hired you.

He’s never told Satoru about his little crush on you. He would be stupid to do such; Satoru would tease him to no end and maybe even be as childish to go as far as pushing him to you. Typical elementary shit, Nanami cringes to himself, watching as you look down at your feet with a pout. Now that confused him. He isn’t sure what your body language means at all, but patient as ever, Nanami only waits.

“Well,” you scratch your forehead, “I’m really flattered. I want to say yes because Satoru is a nice guy—”

“He is not. I do not respect him.”

You roll your eyes at the way his eyes darkens, “—but also I’m not sure if I should. I mean, Satoru doesn’t really date, you know? He’ll be with like one girl and be with another the next week. I just don’t want to…like, fall for that, I guess. Not that I won’t, because he’s totally not my type—”

“It’s just a yes or no,” Nanami cuts you off, his words coming out a lot harsher than he intends it to be. It’s not that he’s annoyed at your rambling, he actually finds it so adorable when you get so lost in your train of thoughts that your mind just travels from one place to another, and seeing how your eyes just leave farther from reality is something he’s always find such an attractive quirk, but not now – not when his infuriating co-worker is intending to mess with your feelings. “Do you want to go or not? Yes or no? It’s as simple as that.”

You blink back at him in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Nanami was a no-bullshit man who hit things right on the head, a huge contrast to your happy-go-lucky self, but he’s right.

It is that simple – and you’re complicating things all over again.

When you give him an answer, Nanami has to muster all his energy to not deflate. He’s tired – but now his exhaustion and even the heartbreak comes crashing down all over him that he’s immediately weighed down and overwhelmed – so much so that all he wants is to go home.

“Yes, I want to go.”

It’s his day off.

Like everything else in his life, Nanami plans everything down to the last minute of his day. His day off consisted of him having the privilege to sleep in until 8am, then breakfast with coffee from that great café a five minute walk away from his apartment, then he’ll be reading books in his study for two hours. Comes after that is lunch, and he’ll brows through some TV shows, pick up his clothes from the dry cleaning, get that special limited edition dinner of his favorite sushi, read books again and call it a day.

Simple, peaceful, no hassle – it’s the perfect day to relax.

Except it isn’t.

Because it’s your day off too, and you’re out on a date with Satoru. He still remembers how happy you looked then upon accepting the white haired man’s invitation, your nimble fingers wrapped around his sleeve as you shyly asked him to come with you.

He doesn’t know why you had to bring him, but he doesn’t question it, nonetheless. Nanami wants to see how Satoru would react, if there could be any indication from the man behind his blindfold that he had ill intentions. Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be any. Satoru only beamed and deflated into a chibi, enthusiastically nodding along with you while you planned your date together.

Nanami took it upon himself to leave.

With a silent scoff, Nanami placed his dinner down on the counter. Because it’s his day off – and mostly because he doesn’t feel like himself – Nanami went out to buy the limited edition sushi wearing a white shirt and some gray sweatpants, too forlorn and a little jealous to even bother dressing up.

It’s stupid, really. He’s been looking forward for this sushi for a long, long time, but now that he’s had it, he can’t even enjoy the taste. His mind keeps going back to you.

Were you having fun with Satoru? Were you enjoying your time? Was Satoru treating you well? What was Satoru’s intentions when it came with you? The last time Nanami checked, you and him got along really well and you’re mostly the one who whacks the taller man in the head upside down when he’s being stupid, almost like two peas in a pod, except you were the smarter one. He’d been so sure you’re nothing but friends and yet…it all lead to this.

Nanami pushes his sushi away. They no longer taste like anything, the texture like dried paper on his mouth. He wipes his lips with a napkin, staring longingly at well…nothing. His walls were plain and empty, and suddenly, Nanami can’t help but compare himself to Gojo.

You both planned to go to the local carnival. There’d be lots of foods and even parlor shops, ferris wheel rides and photo booths to create memories. Of course you and Satoru would go there; both of you enjoyed loud, bustling crowds, claiming there was something amazing about basking in the “lives of humans when ignorant of curses” while Nanami prefers his peace and silence.

Had you gone out on a date with him instead, Nanami can’t guarantee he’ll be any fun. He most definitely wouldn’t ask you to go to a carnival with him either. It was loud, cramped, crowded, and it’s too chaotic for him to ever enjoy your presence and enjoy it alone.

Nanami closes the sushi box, turns on the TV and lets is play on the background, a wet towel above his eyes to relax his tired eyes.

He hopes you’re having fun. He hopes Satoru is treating you well. Nanami just ignores the slight pain in his chest when he thinks of you, laughing and touching anyone but him, and he could picture it already. You’ve always been so open and welcoming to everyone, he knows you’ll have fun today, too.

That’s one of the things he finds most endearing about you – that your smile never fades and you never forget about the simple, little things in life to focus on to keep your sanity after facing curse after curse.

He’s fine, he tells himself. Satoru may be annoying, but he knows you could have fun with him, and you deserved to be happy more than anyone else.

Nanami is about to fall asleep on his couch when his phone vibrates on the coffee tables. Groaning, he flicks off the towel to his shoulders, grumbling about how Principal Yaga better be respecting his day off, but the last thing he expects to see is your contact name flashing on the screen. In the contact photo, you’re winking with a peace sign held above your head.

You look so utterly adorable Nanami just wants to kiss you. He remembers this photo was taken when Yuuji got bored and asked to play games on his phone. Upon finding that there was none – of course there was none – the strawberry-haired student opted for taking pictures of everyone instead. There’s one with Nobara growling, Megumi sipping his boba-tea with dead eyes as if he’s so done with the world, more than twenty pictures of Satoru flexing his muscles and posing like an idiot, and then there’s yours.

Nanami remembers staring at his phone for a solid minute, his gallery actually blessed with your face in it. The sun shines behind you on that photo and you’re absolutely shining. He thinks that’s when he truly fell in love.

And it just so happened the love of his life is calling, making his heart skip a beat because shouldn’t you be with Gojo? Why were you calling him? Did something wrong happen?

Nanami doesn’t waste another second before swiping the green icon, already standing up from the couch as he grabs his jacket. He had this weird inkling something is wrong, why else would you call him?

His theories are proven true when your voice comes out shaky. “H-hello?”

“Good evening,” he greets stiffly, brows furrowed as he listens in on the way you seem to be shuffling around. “Is there something wrong?”

“I, uhm,” he hears you sniffle through the other line, “Yeah, I guess there is…Satoru just texted he can’t come because Principal Yaga suddenly sent him to a mission overseas…and then I just realized that Satoru’s been summoned by the elders and he’s just refusing to show up, so now they cornered him, I guess… anyways, I’m talking too much and I don’t want to be a bother, but would you maybe…like to hang out with me?”

Nanami’s hand freezes on the doorknob. “Hang out…professionally?”

He immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead for that. Out of all things he could’ve said, he just had to utter something unintelligent. He hears you snicker in the background and Nanami’s ears redden. 

He quickly regains his composure with a clear of his throat, suddenly remembering that Satoru’s ditched you, so now you’re asking him instead. It kind of feels like he’s just a replacement, but Nanami buries this feeling down before it consumes him, wondering if he’s already regretting changing into better clothes because he actually agreed to go to a carnival with you.

Upon hearing your happy, “Okay! I’ll wait for you then!”, Nanami realizes that he doesn’t actually mind. Especially not with you.

The carnival is loud.

Nanami dreads the moment he steps out of his car, his body swallowed by the bustling crowd and defeaning music of banging drums and clashing instruments. There’s a hundred scents everywhere – smoke, fish, glazed apples – he doesn’t know where to begin or how to focus.

He nearly turns back to his hair, about to shoot you a text that maybe this is beyond him after all. His head begins to spin when he’s only pushed deeper into the crowd, people bumping into him with every single second and it’s so suffocating. It doesn’t make sense to him how anyone could possibly go on a date like this and enjoy it. He knows for sure this chaos won’t let him enjoy his date’s presence because he’s too busy trying to get away from it all.

Nanami staggers for a bit when a strong hand tugs him to the side. Soon, he finds himself pressed flush against you in a tight corner, your hips warm on his. “Hi,” you breathe out airily, lashes fanning and fluttering in that same manner that always made his heart do complete flips.

“Hello,” he greets back with a small bow out of faux respect, but really, he’s just keeping his head down because you look so beautiful in that moment he doesn’t even know where to look. You’re warm and soft next to his hard and stiff muscles, the scent of roses and vanilla mixing in with the street smoke and Nanami’s head grows dizzy, his hand around yours tightening for comfort. “Y/N…I do not prefer this crowd. Can I take you back home instead? You must be tired – I’ll prepare dinner for you.”

Nanami blinks back in surprise when he sees you nod, a slight grimace on your face, and you practically bury your face in his bicep as you groan, “It’s too noisy for me too. Let’s just hang out at your place.”

So you end up in his immaculately clean apartment, admiring and staring at the boring furniture. Nanami changes into more comfortable clothes and whips out something to cook, not wanting to feed you measly take out when you’re probably famished. He watches with side glances as you pick up a photo of him with his parents when he was younger, cooing and giggling at the baby version of him.

“Nanamin, you’re so cute!”

Nanami scoffs and turns back to the heated water in the bowl, arms hard as they cross against his chest covered with an apron. “Please do not call me cute. I am anything but.”

“No, you’re really cute,” you insist, but after seeing Nanami’s flustered frown, you eventually give up and give the poor man a break. Later, you wobble next to him, watching with curious eyes and a small smile as he adds the vegetables into the soup, moving expertly as he diced up the onions to the side. The sheer focus and attention on his daily tasks makes him falter, and he suddenly finds it so hard to function now.

“Why are you staring at me? Is there something so interesting about slicing up onions?”

“No, not really,” you say absentmindedly, the slight plop of the ingredients echoing. “It’s just – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way. Domestic, I mean, but it looks good on you,” you nod to yourself, and Nanami finds himself struggling to act as if your presence wasn’t making him go crazy while he proceeds to cook. “In fact, everything looks good on you, and I find you really interesting!”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, assisting him silently with mixing the bowl even when he didn’t ask you to. Unaware that he’s now focused on you, watching you cook with him with you pressed up against his side, almost as if it’s right where you belong, Nanami feels the same with you. You also look good being this domestic with him, and he suddenly blurts out, “Would you like to stay with me? Like this?”

Your eyes slide over his in a slow fashion, slow enough that his brain hotwires at the fear maybe he’s said something wrong. But Nanami immediately swallows it down, huffing and turning away from you with that stoic expression again. “Forgive me. That was weird—”

“Why would it be weird?” you laughed to yourself before bumping your hips with his, “You’re the one who invited me here. Of course I want to stay.”

That’s…that’s not what he means.

Nanami is left staring openly at you while you help him set the table and you proceed to talk about how you didn’t really want to go to the carnival but Satoru insisted you’d have fun, so you went anyway even if you’d much prefer to be somewhere else. He’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your lips move and how you swing the house slippers on your big toe, your legs crossed on top of another and your figure slightly hunched across from him.

You look so comfortable and welcomed in his home that it puts him at ease too, not worried that he has to impress you anything because it’s you, and Nanami could actually be vulnerable enough to laugh with you over a bowl of vegetable soup.

It’s fine, he lies to himself again, it’s fine that you don’t know he likes you even if he tends to slip and be obvious sometimes. Because at least you’re with him in that moment, and he lies to himself again that it’s fine, that maybe next time he’ll tell you, but he doesn’t worry about. How could he worry about it when you’re snorting so loud over a lame joke he said that rice nearly came out your nose, and he’s so drunk over the sound of your bubbly laughter that something flutters deep within his belly?

When you help him wash the dishes and bask in the silence instead, comfortable over the lack of words and nothing but the sound of his faucet running and the slight rubbing of towels against dishes heard in the background, Nanami is unsure whether he’s glad that Satoru ditched you on your first date.

It doesn’t stop there.

Nanami only keeps falling in love with you more. He’s been doing a good job of keeping his feelings to himself because the last thing he wants is to have you stay away from him, but Satoru was really getting on his nerves.

He’s just come back from exorcising a curse when he sees you and Satoru play-wrestling in the field with the other students. Megumi is grumbling to himself in the corner, Yuuji is laughing and cheering on you to tackle down his sensei who’s currently going down in high-pitched laughter, Toge pumping his fists and screaming, “Salmon, salmon!”

It’s a chaotic sight – one that he usually doesn’t mind – until you finally pin Satoru down on the ground, your ass above his crotch. Satoru’s hands then come up to squeeze your ass and hips under the false pretense he’s struggling to push you off him, but Nanami knows better.

“Give up already!” you tease the other sorcerer who’s still wriggling underneath you, and Nanami sees it before it happens.

Satoru’s legs bend beneath you and he tries to pin you under him in quick movements, but Nanami is faster, his reflexes taking over. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Nanami tugs you and pulls you forward until you collide on his chest. He’s breathing hard, eyes narrowed at the arrogant smirk painted on Satoru’s features. Meanwhile, you’ve softened in Nanami’s grip, hands fisting his shirt that has him hardening up out of sheer protectiveness.

“Oh, Nanamin!” Satoru beams while wiping the dirt on his hands across his uniform, “Glad to see you here. You wanna join training too?”

“This is hardly training,” he retorts with a clenched jaw, “You’re harassing and disrespecting your fellow sorcerer because you can never keep your dirty hands to yourself,” before Satoru could defend himself, he’s already all over you, his hand tilting your chin side to side to check for any injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did this bastard do anything else?”

“No, not really—”

“Why do you care so much, Nanamin?” Satoru teases, and the students all huddle to watch the commotion. Everyone can feel the tension rising, and Nanami only stiffens up further when he feels you lean closer to his warmth almost absentmindedly. “She and I were just playing around, no hard feelings, no foul play. We’re just having fun, right, Y/N?”

“She is not someone you can just have fun with, Satoru. You’ve already crossed the line when you ditched her on your first date, and you didn’t even bother texting or calling back when I drove her home. It’s disrespectful, and she deserves better than that.”

“Nanami—”

“I was busy,” Satoru sighs dramatically, “And if she deserves better than me, then who would it be? I can take care her of her, you know, she and I have been besties for like what, a year now? I’ll be good to her,” he smirks, and Nanami wants nothing more than to punch him square in the jaw. “Besides, it’s not like she’s dating anyone else. She’s single and ready to mingle—”

“Maybe she is, but I’m not,” Nanami deadpans, his harsh tone shocking everyone.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you squeak under him, and Nanami falls silent. He’s never thought of confessing to you, especially not this way, and Nobara is biting Yuuji’s jacket behind them to muffle her squeals. Panda is clapping his hands and whispers oh, here we go, followed by Toge’s salmon salmon.

It dawns on him now that everyone knows he likes you after all, and now that he’s confronted with the situation, he can’t run away from it. Not that Nanami plans on running away, for he is a man and his pride doesn’t allow him to evade situations like this.

He just wishes it could’ve gone out better.

“Forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable,” Nanami releases his grip on you, loosening his tie that makes him feel like he’s choking both on air and his words. Through his cool stature, he’s actually sweating inside his clothes, and it doesn’t help you’re patient with him too, head tilted to the side curiously and so horribly cutely he might combust. “But I have always been, and I still am, utterly in love with you.”

Nobara and Yuuji no longer hold back as they scream to themselves, the former slapping the latter in his back while Megumi only shakes his head, muttering “about time,” under his breath. Maki snickers to herself and Satoru is stunned, but it’s nothing compared to the way you shrink under his gaze for a moment.

He believes you’re going to run away from him because of his blatant confession; it wasn’t romantic at all, and the kids are still screaming too loudly for him to form coherent thoughts.

Nanami begins to form a deep bow, ready to apologize wholeheartedly and to politely ask you to forget this if you wish – he would respect your decision. But just as his gaze met the ground, he’s thrown off balance as you jump on him, soft glossy lips crashing into his.

The screams and cheers of everyone are suddenly drowned out when he feels your lips molding onto his, and he can feel you smiling happily, giggling while his hands tentatively run down your hips to hold you close. It’s unprofessional, displeasing, and downright horrendous to be kissing someone during work hours while the students are watching, especially because his clothes are crumpled from your eager touch and you’re on top of his chest, but Nanami absolutely doesn’t give a single fuck because he’s kissing you back fervently.

It’s what he’s always wanted – you’re the one he’s always wanted, and now that he has you in his hold, he’s not easily letting you go.

“See? I told you guys,” Satoru proudly puffs his chest up in the background, “All Nanamin needs is a little push.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

-

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

-

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[zannadu]

Now nobody asked for this but I’m going to do it anyway.

Includes: Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Hanta Sero, and Mina Ashido

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex, mentions of oral sex, kissing, and just dumb funny shit

MHA as Stoners

Katsuki Bakugou

It varies how fast he gets high, but his favorite way to smoke is with a simple joint

Okay this man will refuse to do any at first

But eventually will give in after the rest of the Bakusquad convinces him

(Though he will say “whatever I’ll do it”)

After the first smoke sesh with the squad he began to enjoy it more so he now does it more often.

If you are with him, he will either have a hard time being around her or will want to be next to you the whole time.

If you hold him he will act nonchalant but inside he will be exploding (no pun intended)

He will do his best to cuddle without making you uncomfortable.

He will get the munchies bad and insist you come with him to get more snacks every thirty minutes

He is much more open with his feelings and willing to talk more without yelling

He calms down a lot

He will show much more affection to you around people than he normally does.

Cuddling, kissing, squeezing, biting the whole PDA shabang.

He will not give two shits what everyone else thinks.

And when he finally has you alone, that’s when it gets a little hot and heavy. 👀

And he doesn’t even mean to.

Not that you’re complaining. ✌️

—————————————

Katsuki’s hands snaked their way around your waist and his face found a home in the crook of your neck.

“You know, if you want to cuddle, you could just say so,” you stated, resting your hand on his locked arms. He let out a soft groan against your skin. His breathing was slow and his eyes foggy. He squeezed you tighter and moved his hands to intertwine them with yours. His heavy eyes looked up and around the room meeting with everyone else’s eyes.

“You're touchy tonight,” Sero snickered, taking another hit off the joint that currently sat, squished in between his fingers.

Katsuki did nothing but roll his eyes and squeezed your fingers. He placed his mouth closer to your ear, his breath just tickling your ear lobe. Suddenly his teeth began to nibble on your ear, sending shivers down your arms, evident with the goosebumps now arise on your delicate skin.

“What do you say that we go to my room, I want you, ” his voice was low and husky. His fingers released from yours and fiddled the hem of your clothing and caressed your soft skin. His teeth began to but harder, causing you to gasp. He then continued to nibble slowly moving to your neck. How could you say no?

Eijiro Kirishima

It doesn't take very much to get him high so his favorite way to smoke is with a dab pen

Now usually this baby boy is sweet and manly

But when he's been smoking he gets VERY hungry

Like he will eat the entire kitchen.

He will space out a lot but will still listen to you if you're trying to talk to him

(or he will try to)

“Wait, what did you say?”

He isn't afraid of PDA either however he will wait till he's in private with you.

(as he should, he's respectful)

You might need to help him to his room

And try not to let him hug you until you're in bed because he will NOT let go until morning.

He is very sentimental and will give the BEST advice

“Babe, will you come to get food with me please🥺?”

“Kiri, you have a whole pint of ice cream, three bags of chips, AND meat buns. You don't need anything else😂”

He would pout omg.

He would fall asleep if you play with his hair in an instant

—————————————

Kirishima laid in your lap, and you picked up each piece of his hair and gently let it fall. He had showered and decided on no gel, therefore his hair is silky soft.

“Babe, why did you let me eat so much?” he groaned looking up at you. All you could do was laugh, being high just made everything funnier. He began to pout which ceased your laughter.

“I tried to stop you, but you wouldn't listen, ” you almost began to laugh again. He groaned and held his stomach.

“Next time, don't let me eat so much, ” he squeezed his eyes so much. You continued playing with his hair and smiled at the tired boy.

His eyes began to close and he looked up at you and soon he was out cold.

Denki Kaminari

His favorite way to smoke it with a pipe. Just makes him feel cool and the glass is trippy

Denki is usually very goofy and doesn't take things seriously, but when he's high he gets very philosophical

Like this man will talk about how space is so big and how a fish finds its way home.

Anything that will make you question your existence

He won't even realize what he's talking about until he looks at the rest of the group who is just starting wide-eyed and thinking about their whole existence on earth.

For some reason, he seems smarter than he lets people believe.

If he's with you he will be resting his head in your lap

He will have deep conversations sigh you

He will unknowingly rub small circles on your thighs while he's lost in thought💕

Continues to pick on Bakugou and how he's much different stoned

Usually wants alone time with you afterward, he feels safer when you sleep with him

He likes to be the little spoon

—————————————

Denki sat on the bed and leaned against the wall. His eyes studied the ceiling, his mouth slightly agape in a soft smile as he got even more lost in his thoughts. His eyes were almost entirely closed. The hushed murders from the other teens seemed to entirely disappear. The soft music that was also playing just took his mind further into the abyss.

“Hey do you guys think it's crazy that one muscle in your body is the reason you are alive, and if it just decides to quit one day you will just topple over and die?” Denki continued to stare up at the ceiling. The entire room went silent, the only noise was the light music.

“Dude what the fuck, ” sero looked at home from down on the floor. Denki shifted his head to look at the rest of the gang who were all just staring at him.

“What, I'm just saying, ” he shrugged his shoulders. You just looked at him and laughed. That was the most random thing to say and he probably would do it again soon.

“C’mon baby let's get you to bed, ” you grabbed his hand and went out of the room making sure to say goodnight to everyone. One thing was for sure, Denki could not WAIT to be cuddled.

Sero Hanta

This man's the og stoner and will hit a bong over everything else.

When Sero is stoned he makes sure everyone else is having fun

He makes sure everyone is comfortable with what they are doing

If someone doesn't know how to do something, like hit a bong, he will gladly show them

He is a weed mom

The best kind of mom honestly

If someone is paranoid or worried about an adult finding out or getting in trouble, he will try his darn hardest to calm them down

Has the necessities

Carries gum, eye drops, perfume or cologne on him at all times.

Has a pipe on him always

Provides the goods 🌿

Now let me tell you, this man gets HELLA horny when he's stoned

If everyone is settled in and comfortable he will turn his attention to you.

He doesn't even hide it.

“Mi amor, you look beautiful right now”

He will make you so flustered you will have to leave the room.

—————————————

“Sero, what are you doing?” you ask as me scoots over to you across the floor. You can't help but laugh. The cheesy grin on his face was everything at the moment. It seemed like you were the only two in the room.

“Just coming over to check on you, mi amor, ”he purred as he placed his finger under your chin to make you look into his eyes. His eyelids were heavy, the red tint covered by a foggy gloss, just made him that much hotter. He blinked slowly and began to inch closer to your lips.

“Sero, ” you breathed out right before gently placed his lips on yours, moving to pull your body impossibly closer to his. His lips worked over yours as you found your rhythm. He pulled away looking up at your eyes from your lips.

He leaned forward again, this time next to your ear so no one else could hear but you.

“I can't wait till everyone leaves so I can finally find out how good you taste.”

Mina Ashido

This girl's favorite way to smoke is a simple joint

She is great at rolling

(cuz she's good with her fingers if you know what I mean)

She is definitely in charge of the music and the vibes it puts off

But will also try and get everyone to go out and do stuff like getting food or to annoy Aizawa.

She also is the person laughing the most

She will laugh at literally anything

Kirishima making jokes about food or how hungry he is, Denki just acting dumb, or getting a rise outta Bakugou, whatever it is she will be laughing

This girl is part of the alphabet mafia and you can't change my mind🏳️‍🌈

Now she's is a cutie when it comes to relationships

She won't act inappropriately in front of everyone else out of respect for you

However, when she gets you alone that's a whole other story

—————————————

“C’mon y/n, let's go to my room. I have something to show you, ” Mina smirked at you and squeezed your hand in hers. You had no other choice to follow her as you were already headed out of Sero’s room and straight to her room. You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to everyone.

You finally made it to her room and she closed the door behind you.

“What did you want to show me?” you asked sitting on her bed. You look around the very pink room and back to her standing in front of you. Mina looked you up and down and reached out to grab your cheeks gently with her hands. She leaned down and kissed you gently, working for her hands down to the hem of your shirt, eager to get it off. Her eyes glazed over and watched your every movement as you striped your clothes. Her fingers grazed over the sides of your arms and you went back in for a kiss. She pushed you farther back onto the bed, straddling her legs around your waist.

“This is going to be fun, ” she said breathlessly and pulled you in yet again for another lustful kiss.

Asks are open!!! This is my first official post on here, advice would be fantastic, or if you have any ideas that would be awesome! Thank you for reading😁❤️

[yoonpobs]

cold | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc

genre: fluff, slight tsundere jimin, just cuteness tbh

words: 3, 339

summary: where jimin is ice cold but he wants you to warm him up (not in the way you think)

When Jimin pulls away for the first time in a year since you’ve met him during your movie nights, you suspect that something’s up. But, you also know Jimin—he would have said something to you if there was.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You good?”

Jimin sighs at you, frustrated and you can’t help but feel confused at the sudden shift of atmosphere. You thought picking La La Land was a good choice, but you suppose that since Jimin was a little emotionally constipated he didn’t like it as much.

“I’m not, actually.” He declares, tugging off the blanket that covered both of your lower halves and withdrew from the warmth that settled into the couch.

“Do you—” You contemplate on asking because being Jimin’s friend meant respecting certain boundaries, and you weren't intending to be that friend that stuck their nose in his business.

You choose to remain silent and purse your lips and settle back into the couch, though it felt a little empty without Jimin bunched up next to you. But he was an enigma of unopened thoughts, and the time you spent navigating the course of your friendship in the first few months was ... heavy.

He’d never tell you anything, let alone allow you to indulge in the greatness that was his mind. You’d always hear from Namjoon how much he looks up to and respects Jimin’s way of thinking and mindset, but you rarely get to see that part of him. Sometimes, you felt more of a seat-warmer than a friend. You appreciate him, nonetheless.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about it?” He pries you.

You shrug, covering yourself with the blanket in hopes that it masks your vulnerability and insecurity, too.

“I know you.” You tell him, “You don’t like being questioned unless you say something about it first.”

He purses his lips in a straight line and looks at you ... like he really looks at you. So much that you feel his eyes burning into the side of your head; as if he was attempting to unravel your mind and dig into its deepest depths to understand its content.

“I don’t …” He says after looking at you, head-turning to face the television. Was La La Land seriously still relevant now?

“But I’m asking you to ask me.” He says, and the look of surprise on your face doesn’t disappoint. You gaped at him, forgetting the fact that Ryan Gosling looked really handsome on the screen—because Jimin had just prompted you to ask him about his … feelings.

“I—I don’t understand …” You say, dumbly. He rolls his eyes at you, and you’re familiar with his expression because it’s the one he usually has when he wants to call you an idiot.

“Ask me how I feel.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Your words fail you because the entire situation was sprung onto you so unexpectedly, and you suddenly feel self-conscious about everything. Was this Jimin’s way of assessing you as a friend and throwing you to the curb after a year of being platonically involved with one another?

As if he could hear the millions of thoughts running in your head, he turns to you and grabs your cheeks in between his large palms, and this time you actually short-circuit.

Your intimacy with Jimin stopped at sitting next to each other during movie nights and embracing the warmth that your bodies radiated. Maybe even the occasional accidental brush of fingers when he hands you something, but besides that—Jimin was conservative with his touches.

You can’t lie and say that your heart doesn’t react differently, because for the most part of your friendship you’ve suppressed any romantic feelings that you had or could have had for Jimin. Mostly out of self-preservation because Jimin was just … Jimin.

Cold, aloof but still someone that cared deeply. Yes, he was emotionally constipated when it came to his own feelings, and yes —his gaze more often than not had you cowering in fear. But he never made you feel uncomfortable. Even in the silences, you spent with one another you felt safe. Home.

Not to mention, his entire brooding and stoic persona hit it really well with the women on campus—and the fact he was obscenely attractive. He and you were the types of people that remained just as friends. And suddenly, that could end tonight, too.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He hums, eyes chasing your own but you divert your attention away from him because your eyes tell.

You shake your head, “I’m just confused.”

And confused you were because this was a territory that was unheard of for you—much less for Jimin. If only you could telepathically speak to Namjoon right now because you had no idea what to do or say.

“Well, I’ll keep it simple for you,” He says, “ Ask me how I feel.”

He doesn’t ask you anymore, instead, he insists—as if there was a preconceived answer for you already in the back of his head. Maybe this was how he softened the blow.

“No.” You push him away, flustered. “I won’t let you friend break up with me like this!”

He raises an eyebrow at the sudden rise of voice you admitted, “I like being your friend even if you don’t—and—and I know that yeah, consent matters—but I do not consent to be friend broken up with.”

He listens to you, and his face is still in its signature blankness and you nearly scream at how you wished he’d display a little emotion or a reaction to your blow up. But it seems that between the two of you, you were the emotionally unstable one.

“I know I can be annoying and all over the place and loud but ...” You immediately opt to self-deprecate yourself because nothing could triumph the way it felt to do it yourself than have him say it to your face, “... you’re not allowed to leave me. Ever .”

You fold your arms across your chest and look away because what the fuck did you just do and your face was undebatably on fire right now.

As if he’s noticed the way your eyes widen in realisation, he holds you again—but this time he pulls you closer to his chest until you are forced to look up at him with your flushed cheeks.

“Silly girl.” He hums and you whine.

“What!”

“I have to do everything myself, hm?” He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ears and it was instinctual for you to pull away because you’ve never felt Jimin like this before. Close, and warm—and all yours.

“Jimin I don’t understand— mpf!” And it was like a scene straight out of a romcom, and you nearly forget that La La Land was still running in the background. You felt like the main character of your own movie, and Jimin was the protagonist's love interest because he kissed you.

Jimin was kissing you.

Kissing. Like lip-locking. Sharing saliva. With you.

He pulls away too soon for your liking, but you gape at him like a fish out of water.

“You—” You stutter, and he chuckles. You feel it more than you hear it because his chest was resting against your cheek.

“Do you understand now?”

You shake your head, “... you feel bad for me?”

He snorts.

“I don’t know if you’re actually this much of an idiot, or are you just hopeless in the romantic department?” He says, and you open your mouth in the offense, ready to defend yourself but he hugs you closer to him and all you could feel was him.

“Excuse me? I’m not an idiot.”

“I just kissed you and you thought I felt bad for you.”

You huff, “What am I supposed to feel! You never speak about your emotions to me, and the most I’ve ever got out from you was a chuckle from the time where I slipped in front of the entire campus during freshers week.”

“That was when we met, yes.” He hums, “Why did you think I’ve been with you ever since?”

You still looked confused and Jimin internally sighs at the way he let himself fall for a dense excuse of a human being like you.

“Cause … you felt 'bad for me?”

"Just because you air-quote it doesn't make it any different from what you said earlier ____."

He groans, “No you dumbass—it’s cause no one makes me feel things the way you do. Strange weirdo who slipped on absolutely nothing, and as a friend who forces me to watch shitty romcoms like La La Land.”

“La La Land is not shitty!” You gasp.

He blinks.

“Is that all you got from what I said?”

“La La Land is phenomenal! All from the artistic production, to the soundtrack—so I don't know why people keep shitting on it because personally I really enjoyed—” But he kisses you again, and you melt into him immediately.

This time he lingers for a bit longer, and when he pulls away you grab onto his shirt to keep him close. You realise your mistake and suddenly push him away, but his hold on you was tight enough to resist your poor attempt.

“I like you, dummy.” He says, and you gasp.

“Nooo.” You say in disbelief.

“I like you.” He emphasises again, and you gasp. Again.

“No, you don’t.” You tell him, and he sighs—knowing that this was going to take a while.

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do .”

“Nope.”

“ Yes .”

“Nuh-uh—!”

He clamps his hand over your mouth and glares at you.

“Me. Park Jimin—likes you, ____ ____, and yes —I can’t believe I like a complete idiot like you, but I do because you fucked up and made me like you from the moment you embarrassed yourself in front of everyone so bad that it was probably the hardest I’ve ever cringed in my life—”

“Hey!”

“—but you quite literally stumbled into my life with your whirlwind of emotions and you made me feel things that I’ve tried to avoid my entire life.” He holds your chin between his thumb and finger so you’d look at him. And you know that Jimin never lies, but something in your heart doesn't allow you that moment of happiness for yourself.

“But I'm annoying …” You say, a little unsure. Jimin simply looks at you, and you're frustrated again at the lack of emotion on his face.

“Yes, you are.” Is all he says, and you gape at his audacity.

You huff, throw the blanket off your body and make way to grab at your belongings that lay idle on the floor next to the couch. You pulled away from Jimin who attempted to grab at your wrist and glare at him so vehemently that he looked taken aback.

“This isn't a joke.” You tell him, and you hoped you looked as strong as you sounded because you felt played. Jimin didn't do this—you were just the clumsy freshmen that somehow befriended him, and he had no way out of it. So you decided to give him a way out on your own.

“Wait—of course, it's not—where are you going?” He exasperates when you make a beeline go to his door. You've never seen Jimin move as quickly as he did, but he manages to secure a tight grip on your elbow.

You try to shove him aside all while you felt like an immense idiot for allowing yourself to feel this way. To feel so human, and raw when you were with Jimin when he hadn't shown an inkling of emotion even when he declared that he ‘liked’ you.

“____—what’s wrong? Is it because I kissed you without asking you? I'm sorry but— ” He apologises and you groan.

“Stop treating me like this!” You yell at him to cut him off, “I know I'm clumsy, and a ditz—but I have feelings and it's not cool how you're doing all of—” You gesture to the hand on your elbow and to your lips, “— this, making me feel things that I shouldn't be feeling.”

“You're missing the point—!”

“Am I Jimin?” You exasperate, and he lets go of you for a moment to allow you space. “You've never shown any sign that you liked me for the past year of being friends, and now you're telling me you do?”

You scoff, “If you wanted out of this friendship, here it is.”

You reach to his doorknob with your back turned towards him, but Jimin was far stronger than you and reached out at the same time; essentially locking you into your position with nowhere to go.

“Just let me go,” You sigh, “I'm giving you your out.”

Jimin turns your body to face him and you avoid his stare. He was taller than you so being locked against the door was a little intimidating, given the fact that Jimin’s stare was nothing short of intimidating.

“Why would I want out?” He asks you, and you blink at him as if he's grown a second head.

“Now you're just treating me like I'm stupid .” You pout, “Did you not hear what I said? I know I'm annoying and I'll get out of your hair, just let me go—!”

You pull at his wrist but he holds you tighter and uses his other hand to softly grab at your cheeks to look at him. You stare at him with wide eyes and mouth scrunched like a fish, and you're sure this doesn't look the least bit flattering at all.

“Dude!”

“Please don't dude me after I just said I liked you.” He grimaces, then sighs.

He proceeds to clamp his hand over your mouth, “Now I need you to listen to me. And I mean— really listen. Not the thing that you do where you completely ignore my point and go on some childish rampage of how I think you’re annoying and want out.”

You glare at him.

He sighs, “I don't know how explicit I have to be—but I like you. I like your presence, I like hanging out with you—and I want to date you. I want everything that's in the book of romance and relationships with you.”

Your eyes widened and you attempt to speak but he clamps down harder than you whine.

“I know I'm an emotionless brick but I've been with you for the past year and my physical presence is the way I show you that I like you.”

You blink.

“And, I don't know if you've noticed but I've been inviting you over every fortnight just to cuddle up next to you to watch movies that are cheesy as fuck because I know that it makes your heart flutter—” He looks straight into your eyes and you're sure he can feel the heat of your cheeks on his hand.

“—I didn’t say this earlier because I was under the impression that you were aware and that we were kind-of-dating but not really— clearly, I was wrong.”

You manage to rip his hand off in his moment of weakness and gasp, “Kind-of-dating? Since when did that even happen?!”

He pointedly looks at you, “You have a toothbrush at my place, half of your closet is in mine—you walk my dog when I'm not home, and I buy your favourite cereal when I do groceries.”

“But—”

“Nope—the only reason I explicitly told you tonight because it was now clear to me that you weren't aware—” He gestures to your frazzled state, “—and that you said you were going out with Taehyung. Alone. To a pizza parlour.”

You barely manage to respond because he exasperates, “Do you know how datey a pizza parlour is?”

You gape at him, “Well excuse me! I didn't even know we were kind-of-dating until a minute ago!”

He glares at you, “And you didn't even believe me when I told you I liked you.”

You fold your arms across your chest, “Obviously. You don't even hold my hand, and you've never kissed me until tonight.”

You punch his shoulder and he hisses, “You didn't even formally ask me out!”

“You’re a scaredy-cat and if I did ask you out you’d probably run away from me!” He exasperates with his hands in the air.

“I’m not a scaredy-cat and I won’t run away!” You argue back and you were suddenly aware of how close he was to you.

You look up at him and notice how pretty his eyelashes were, and how he does look at you with an intimacy that you've only seen for yourself. The look that he reserved for you.

“I'm asking you out now,” He whispers, cupping your cheek.

“Date me. Be with me.”

You scoff, “God. Can’t you even be a little romantic? It’s like you’re demanding me to be with you.” You respond petulantly like a child.

He groans, “I'm not going to grovel you if that's what you're expecting.”

“Tell me why then.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You clear your throat and fiddle with your thumbs, a nervous tick you have.

“Tell me why you like me.”

Jimin stares at you and you want to complain about his stoic expression but he cups your cheeks in his hands a little harder and forces you to really look at him—as if his face held all the answers.

And when you did, you see the desperation behind his eyes, the dedication that he possesses only for you. The way he looks at you like he's meant to prove something to you, and then everything made sense to you—he wasn't inexpressive—you were just too caught up in your own world that you never noticed.

“Jimin—” Your voice cracks but he shushes you, softly.

“Listen to me, okay?” He asks of you and you gently nod.

“I like you because you're here,” He starts off and you were about to scoff but he speaks again knowing your predetermined reaction, “You’re present— always. I don't mean just because we're always together, but because even when we're texting you're there. You're involved.”

“You're expressive in ways that don't need words to tell me anything, which is why I know you like me too.”

“Cocky, much?” You scoff but the burn on your cheeks give the truth away

He smiles a little before continuing, “But that's not it—I like you because you're patient. You stuck with me being emotionally constipated for the first half of our friendship, and yet you're still here.”

“Even though you nearly ran out of here spewing some bullshit about me taking you as a joke—”

“Okay … I may have blown it out of proportion.”

“—but I wouldn't want to have you any other way. Even if it took me literally trapping you against a door for you to listen.”

You melt into his touch and look up at him, “Do you really like me?”

“I really do.” He affirms you, and you tug him closer to bury your head into his chest.

“Can you hold my hand next time?” You ask, softly. And he chuckles against the top of your head, caressing it gently.

“Of course. That's the only way you won't run away from me next time, right?” He teases.

You whine.

“I'm never going to let you go.” He tells you, “You're pretty like this—all mine .”

You smile up at him and Jimin swears his heart melts to be rebuilt whole by you again.

“But you called me an idiot ...”

“Two things can be true at the same time.”

You gasp, “Rude—!”

He shuts you up with a kiss more passionate, and a lot more eager that has your head spinning.

When he pulls away, you feel your heartbeat a little faster—especially at the string of saliva that connects your mouths.

“Mine,” He says. You can't help but nod.

His.

[zekethebeastmaker]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Zeke Swampson

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍: Currently single/widower

𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒: Magic, namely the ability to create animal life from a few basic ingredients; expert aquatic animal husbandry, fire breath, some alchemical knowledge, medical healing.

𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑: Reptilian green scelra, black pupils

𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑: None

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒: Vidalia Swampson (wife, deceased), Eliza Mage (daughter), Dorian Mage (son-in-law), Lilly Mage (granddaughter).

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐒: His various snails, slugs, and leeches around his hut, especially the snails that stick to him. He has a name for each one and treats them like his babies.

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄: Magic Crafters, snobby attitudes, salt, people hurting his snails/slugs/leeches, his son-in-law, his daughter not visiting him, sickness, being unable to help.

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 / 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒: Drawing, medicine making, fishing, slug/snail/leech breeding.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄: No, he's a healer not a fighter.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄: No.

𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌: Turtle. He likes to take things slow, is (sorta) wise, peaceful, and overall has a very pleasant aura around him that makes for great company- but can be quick to either close up or snap if provoked!

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒: Has a bit of an issue with boundaries- tends to violate personal space alot (with good intentions). Also over-shares without really realizing. Slightly overbearing when he wants to help.

𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐒: Doesn't really have any- he's so old there's no one to really look up to anymore. Has alot of respect for Bruno- though he's much younger- for taking up the mantle of leader.

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Heterosexual/ Straight

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄 / 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒: He was once very happily married himself, and had a daughter and granddaughter. He views it as a blessing, something to undertake with the love of your life for the rest of your shared time together; very much loves children.

𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒: A leaf hat and his traditional crocodile tooth necklace seem to do just fine in terms of every day attire. He doesn't need anything fancy, especially since he's in and out of the water all day every day.

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄: Vidalia, Eliza, Lilly, his snails, Damon, all of the other Beastmakers, Spyro, all of the new hatchlings.

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒: Ask Damon, and he'll probably tell you: you have to get used to Zeke's kooky sort of weirdness very very quickly if you're going to be his friend. Sudden late night calls over past spats randomly rekindled, long talks about the many different kinds of secretions a snail or slug can make (unprompted), and petty grudges and arguments- but if you can get past all of that, Zeke is a great friend to have, willing to give you the wings off his back; you'll never be in need of a listening ear, advice, or anything at all- Zeke will be sure of it!

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊: Say what you will, but he really does enjoy iced sweet tea- with a little squeeze of lemon juice.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐓: His front porch, sitting in his rocking chair or dipping his toes in the pond that surrounds his hut.

𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍: The lake. He's used to all of the swamps and bogs, and he couldn't take his snails in the ocean! Too salty- but he would be interested in seeing some sea slugs, snails, or collecting sea shells.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄: Sweet but strong, someone he could just talk to for hours on end and lose track of time; Vidalia was absolutely perfect for him. She was very tender towards her plants and Zeke's snails, and was almost as kooky as he was when it came to onions and tubers. Both could go on and on for a week about their own respective crafts, and both also loved to listen to the other during these rants.

𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒: Camping. He's barely ever indoors if he can help it.

Tagged by: @twelvedozenterrors

Tagging: @dream-weaver-obasi @timekeeperlindar And whoever wants to!

[i-like-plan-m]

If you're accepting prompts, how about one where people either can't lie to LWJ or he can tell when they're lying, and he inadvertently discovers a whole bunch of stuff WWX would rather he didn't (could be either WWX's low self worth, or his intense LWJ-based thirst!)

such a good prompt omg thank you [Posted to Ao3]

It was a curse, some said. A gift, according to others. The sect debated for years on the technicalities and argued their differing opinions over Lan Zhan’s head until Lan Qiren insisted the sect leave his nephew alone.

No one ever asked Lan Zhan what he thought.

He considered it neither a gift nor a curse. It was simply a part of him, the same as his golden core.

Except while a golden core was perfectly normal, Lan Zhan’s ability to detect any lie— spoken or unspoken— was less so. He heard falsehoods like music; words were notes, conversations were harmonies, and lies were the jarring wrong note that scraped harshly across his ears.

The hardest part was learning the reasons for a lie. Lan Zhan did not understand people the way his brother did, could only hear their lies and quietly disapprove. But Lan Xichen spent hours upon hours with him, testing the bounds of the skill and gently pointing out the different types of lies, and why the distinctions were important.

Sometimes, he’d said, people lie to protect themselves or others. Sometimes a lie is kinder than the truth. They were not all born of malicious intent, and he’d taught Lan Zhan how to distinguish between them. How to identify the dangerous lies, the harmful ones, and those that were best left unacknowledged out of kindness or respect.

Lan Xichen had been eternally patient, remarkably encouraging, and quietly concerned about the effect this curse would have on his little brother. Lan Zhan had seen it in his face, the nonverbal lie reading to him like a whisper every time Lan Xichen smiled to hide his worry.

His brother had never asked about the source of the curse or gift or whatever the sect considered it; Lan Zhan suspected he had his own theories, and Lan Xichen’s guesses would most certainly be better than the elders’.

But only Lan Zhan knew its origins for sure.

His mother had been lied to, once, and as a result had spent the rest of her days a prisoner in a small, lonely house. His clearest memory of his mother was her holding him close, tucking him into her lap and wrapping her arms around him in a loving, protective cocoon. It was the safest he had ever felt.

He’d been too young to recognize his mother’s sorrow for what it was at the time, the way she’d clearly known her death was approaching. But he remembered the quiet words she’d whispered to him, words of love and fear and protectiveness. The way her golden core had enveloped him, warm and steady, as she made sure her youngest son would not live in a house of lies and silence like her.

It was her greatest gift to him, and her last.

~*~

Lan Zhan knew the sound of a lie. So when a particularly irritating disciple arrived and immediately began causing trouble, Lan Zhan expected any number of lies from the boy. He was eager, even, for vindication for his own prejudice against such a disrespectful nuisance.

But Wei Ying had a way of talking that sounded like slurred notes to Lan Zhan’s highly trained ear. He was all chaos and deflection, and Lan Zhan experienced something uncomfortably like whiplash trying to keep up with the words in Wei Ying’s never-ending chatter.

It could not have been deliberate— no one outside of the Lan Sect’s elders and his own family knew of Lan Zhan’s particular skill— but nonetheless Wei Ying avoided giving straight answers, topics sliding sideways and off course with a joke, a question of his own, or some wildly inappropriate comment that made Lan Zhan too furious to focus.  

He was infuriating.

He was beautiful.

Somehow that was worse.

Lan Zhan did not bother to look over as Wei Ying bickered with his sect brother, not in any mood to deal with him or his own feelings about the biggest troublemaker he’d ever met in his life.

Wei Ying’s laugh rang over the courtyard, bright and happy as he slung an arm over Jiang Wanyin’s shoulders, ignoring the sect heir’s incensed protests. “Don’t lie, shidi, I know you love me!”

The lie sounded like a gong in Lan Zhan’s head, startling him so badly that he stumbled to an awkward stop and snapped his head around to stare at Wei Ying, who was for once paying him no attention.

His ever-present smile was in place, nothing false or fixed about it. Wei Ying wore happiness and humor like armor, and Lan Zhan wondered if anyone had ever seen past it. He hadn’t… until now.

Lies were interesting things. Sometimes entire speeches were a lie (for instance, everything that came out of Jin Guangshan’s mouth). Sometimes gestures held the lie, such as Nie Huaisang’s amiable nod of agreement whenever his older brother ordered him to go train with his saber. And sometimes the lie was only a single word.

I know you love me. The low, booming signal of Wei Ying’s lie was significant for two reasons: the timing, and the strength of the sound. The greater the lie, the louder the noise, and this one had left a painful echo in Lan Zhan’s ears from the force of it. And the timing… the lie had been marked on a single word: love.

I know you love me. But Wei Ying did not believe this, not even a little.

Lan Zhan… did not know what to do with this revelation.

By the end of class that day, during which Wei Ying had been bellowed at by Lan Qiren and handed off to Lan Zhan for yet another punishment, he still had not figured out what to do about it. He would have gone to his brother for advice, because Xichen always helped him find the right thing to do, but lately his brother had a terrible light of laughter in his eyes every time Lan Zhan mentioned Wei Ying, and he was not about to willingly subject himself to that indignity.

So he was left to his own devices. Lan Zhan stared down at his scroll, not reading a single word of it because of to Wei Ying’s indecent sprawl across a nearby desk. He was humming innocently, like Lan Zhan couldn’t see him urging a tiny paper man on a march towards Lan Zhan’s pot of ink.

“Focus on your work,” Lan Zhan said sternly, capturing the figure just before it dipped its little arms in the bowl and went on a rampage.

“Ugh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whined, flopping over the desk. “This is so boring, how can you stand it? Not even Madam Yu would make me do all this!”

Lan Zhan studied the paper man in the cage of his fingers. This was a chance to learn more, he thought, about Wei Wuxian’s life in Yunmeng. Maybe even about why he did not believe his own brother loved him.

Why do you care? This does not concern you. Lan Zhan mutinously banished the thought and set the paper man free to explore the stack of books on his desk.

Hesitantly, he asked, “Do you like Lotus Pier?”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying laughed. “What kind of question is that?”

Lan Zhan felt the familiar surge of frustration at the deflection; he could never get a straight answer out of Wei Ying, and it was a source of much aggravation.

“You mention punishments at Lotus Pier frequently,” he said instead of pinning Wei Ying to the floor until he got a truthful answer. The image sent a flash of heat through him, and he held himself very, very still until he had control over himself again.

“Eh.” Wei Ying waved a dismissive hand. “I get in trouble everywhere, Lan Zhan, whether I mean to or not.”

Truth.

“Are you punished in similar ways?” Lan Zhan asked, looking pointedly at Wei Ying’s abandoned paper of half-copied rules.

“No one gives punishments like the Lans. Don’t worry, your sect’s reputation is still the most feared of all!”

Not true, because anyone with half a brain knew to be wary of Wen Ruohan. This lie was like a slipped finger on the string of a qin, a short, wavering note that was discordant and vaguely unsettling. An untruth, technically, but said as a joke, as a sort-of truth because both of them knew the statement wasn’t genuine and that they other knew it as well.

Lan Zhan had a headache.

He tried a different track. “You were adopted by Sect Leader Jiang?”

Wei Ying sat up, propping his elbows on his desk and studying him for a moment before grinning. “So many questions, Lan Zhan! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want to be friends.”

It was said teasingly, and the lie was held in the latter part of the sentence— Wei Ying did not believe Lan Zhan wanted to be friends. That, combined with the frustration of yet another question avoided, made Lan Zhan say, “It seems you do not know better.”

Embarrassingly, his heart was pounding at the admission. Lan Zhan had never had a friend before, other than his brother, and he certainly did not know how to make them. But he knew that he wanted to spend time with Wei Ying more and more often, even though part of him rebelled at the thought.

It was oddly silent in the library. Lan Zhan knew his ears were flushed red with embarrassment and uncertainty, and he waited with bated breath for Wei Ying to tease him again, to deflect with another laugh or joke that kindly disguised the fact that he did not want to be Lan Zhan’s friend, that Lan Zhan was too stiff and weird and boring to be anyone’s friend.

A little nauseated, Lan Zhan lifted his eyes from his paper and gathered his courage to look at the other boy.

Wei Ying was gaping at him like a fish.

“Friends?” He finally managed. Lan Zhan dropped his eyes back to the desk and said nothing, couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. “You don’t want to be my friend!”

His gaze flickered back towards Wei Ying. The statement was untrue, obviously, but it was a lie that Wei Ying believed to be true, so it sounded like a half-missed note on a flute. Easily corrected, quickly covered, but there nonetheless.

“Says who?” Lan Zhan asked, wondering… hoping…

Wei Ying blinked at him for a moment, visibly stumped. Ridiculously, it made Lan Zhan feel as though he’d won something. Triumph over being the one to shock Wei Ying into uncharacteristic silence for once.

As expected, it didn’t last long.

Traitorous fondness glowed in his chest as Wei Ying planted his hands on the desk and raised himself onto his knees with an indignant expression. His hair fell in disarray around his face, a half-tied red ribbon spilling over his shoulder and against rumpled robes.

“You did!” Wei Ying said, outraged. “I said we should be friends on the first night!”

He’d said a lot of things that first night, Lan Zhan thought with reluctant amusement. Lan Zhan had forgotten most of it thanks to the veil of rage that had overtaken him as he chased a beautiful boy under the moonlight.

“Hm,” Lan Zhan said, dismissive, mostly just to watch Wei Ying’s expression contort into disbelief. “Did you ask?”

Wei Ying spluttered. “Of course I asked!” He said too loudly, and then cocked his head like he’d heard the ring of the lie, too. “Oh. Huh, I guess I didn’t ask, now that I think about it.”

He looked at Lan Zhan with a gleam in his eye. Lan Zhan had only a second to think, uh oh, and then Wei Ying had vaulted over his desk to land on his knees across from him.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, leaning in like they were sharing secrets. Lan Zhan’s hear thundered in his ears as Wei Ying grinned conspiratorially at him and leaned in close enough that Lan Zhan could smell the floral scent of his hair oil, the tinge of chili oil that he’d smuggled into the Cloud Recesses and then at some point spilled on his sleeve. “I want to be your friend. Do you want to be friends?”

Lan Zhan savored the silence around his words— I want to be your friend, he’d said, with no single hint of a lie— and tried not to let the mischievous glint in Wei Ying’s eye distract him.

It was too late, though. The seed of mischief had taken root in Lan Zhan, which was why he said with a perfectly straight face, “Hm. I will have to think about it.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying squawked with indignation, and then must have caught the tiny curl of Lan Zhan’s mouth because he exploded into laughter a second later. “Were you teasing me just now? Lan Zhan, I can’t believe this.”  

Quietly pleased with himself, Lan Zhan watched as Wei Ying laughed until he ran out of air, falling onto his back with his usual exuberant expressiveness. The laughter was a joyous sound, bright and honest, and hearing it in one of his favorite places made Lan Zhan’s chest feel warm and tight.

His mother would have liked him, Lan Zhan thought wistfully. For his humor, his irrepressible love of life, his fearlessness. His heart felt too big for his chest as he listened to Wei Ying laugh, unrestrained emotion where only disciplined constraint had ever been permitted.

He would investigate Wei Ying’s beliefs about his own worth later, he decided. They were friends now, so this was allowed.

For now, though, he let the clear, ringing music of Wei Ying’s laughter fill the room. Basked in the warmth he hadn’t felt since his mother had been alive, and softened enough to smile back at Wei Ying.

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Body

Part 1 of 2

Part 2

Masterlist

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: None

Anon requested- can I get a one shot where the reader does the body positivity trend with the new megan thee stallion song and the reader is insecure about how ppl will react to it?? Most importantly how peter will react to it?? K thanks

Awww I love doing smol readers and where Peter's actually the one that has it together lol sooo thanx for this

The TikTok is that new body positivity trend with that Megan Thee Stallion song. Couldn't link it because tumblr acts weird about links but part 2 will have a video for Peter. Also reader will be 18 (senior in high school) cuz some people think minors shouldn't participate in the trend lol

A/N: Either a motivation fairy hit me in the middle of the night or I'm really just that bored to the point where I had no choice but to get my motivation to write back. Either way I'm happy lol. Enjoy! Thanks to @yumings and @kelieah for helping me feel confident in this lol

Will definitely be a two parter🙂

---------------------------------------

Body oddy oddy oddy oddy oddy oddy oddy-

You'd finally finished editing the video.

It was a simple, short collage of all of your favorite selfies and pictures that showed off your body well. There was a new trend going around on TikTok and when you saw it you just had to jump at it headfirst.

People would take their favorite pictures of themselves, ones that showed off their bodies just the way they liked, and they'd put it to the sound of Megan Thee Stallion's song "Body".

You looked through your entire phone gallery to find pictures that you were confident enough to post, some you'd forgotten you even took in the first place.

When you were done, you threw in the simple caption that everyone was using.

Heard we're using this sound to show off. My turn then😜

Yeahhhhhh, the caption sounded much more confident than you actually felt.

You actually thought about deleting it from the minute you posted it. Insecure wasn't even the word for it. And even with your followers there to hype you up, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious. So, albeit hesitantly, you went to your friends for support.

The first person you showed was Michelle.

"You killed that," she said in math class as she passed you the phone underneath the table so that the professor wouldn't see.

"Thanks," you said. "I was honestly kinda nervous about it." You noticed her incredulous look and explained yourself, toying with the loose strings on your jacket. "Like seriously, I don't wanna fish for compliments, it's just that there are so many better ones out there."

Michelle gave a lopsided grin. "That's just you being insecure, you dork," she retorted. "You look hot." She gave an uninterested glare at the teacher when they told her to be quiet. Then she turned towards you with a smile. "You shown Peter yet? I bet he'd agree."

You shifted in your seat nervously and MJ immediately caught on. "What, you don't wanna show him?" She gave you a look when you took a while to answer. "Dude he's literally your boyfriend. I'm pretty sure he'll like it."

"MJ, we haven't even-" you looked around secretively. "-we haven't even taken our shirts off in front of each other yet. There's literally a pic of me in my sports bra and I.." You shrugged, a little embarrassed by the conversation topic. "I-i just don't know how he'd react."

You and Peter were a fairly new couple and were taking it slow. You'd only ever kissed, cuddled, and held hands so far. Plus, you were a major causal clothes wearer. Sweatshirts and jeans, those were your specialty. The two of you were in no rush and you were both fine with that, but you had no idea how he would react to seeing pictures of you like that.

And, though it wasn't the most feminist approach, you kinda wanted to impress him. Was that so bad?

MJ, forever the voice of patronizing reason, rolled her eyes at you. "So, let me get this straight. You're not fine with your boyfriend seeing sexy pictures of you, but you're okay with literal strangers seeing you instead?"

"Look, I know it's-"

"No, no I totally get it," she said with a sympathetic smirk, before laughing. "I just wanted to show you how dumb it sounded though."

The bell rang, signaling the end of class.

"Look," she said, standing up and getting her things. "You have nothing to be worried about. Peter practically worships the ground you walk on. He'll love it."

When you showed Ned, he genuinely didn't give a shit.

"Oh my God, there's a new Megan Thee Stallion album?!"

"Uh, yeah."

"I have to listen to it right now!"

"Yeah okay, but do you like the-"

He was already plugging in his headphones before you even finished your sentence.

You showed Harry next. If anyone was gonna rate you unabashedly, it'd definitely be him.

He was the only friend you had in your lunch period, so you met up with him every day. Towards the end of lunch that day, you'll pulled out your phone and asked if he wanted to see the video. He enthusiastically agreed.

He watched the short video with an amused expression, bopping his head to the music all the while.

When it ended, he handed you your phone back and gave you a high-five. "Damn girl!," he praised. "Just throwing it out there, if Peter fails you, I'm hella available."

"Heh, thanks." You smiled as you felt your entire face heat up. "Ya think he'll like it?"

"What, you haven't shown him yet?" You shook her head, giving a nervous smile. "Oh-" he nodded confidently. "-he'll love it. Trust me."

"Are you sure?," you asked.

"Yeah," he responded with a shrug. "Why are you so worried?"

"Because he's not-..he doesn't really seem-" You couldn't find the right words for it. "I dunno, I just really want him to like it!"

Harry scoffed. "Look. Let me tell you a little secret about Peter Parker," he snickered. "Or practically all guys for that matter."

"Okay?," you said, curious as to where this was going.

He smirked. "You remember when he introduced himself to you at my party last summer?"

You nodded.

"Well, hon..." Harry lowered his head to where he was whispering in your ear. "Your personality wasn't what he was noticing from across the room.. catch my drift?" He chuckled when he saw you blushing as you caught where his eyes had wandered. "Just sayin'."

Seeing your incredulous expression, Harry continued. "Peter likes to act like he's not checking you out every second of the day, but I promise you he is. That little "I'm so respectful and bashful" crap he has going is complete B.S."

You smirked and rolled your eyes as he pulled away from your ear and kept walking. "You're an ass."

Harry shrugged. "True, but I'm a realistic ass." The alarm on his phone sounded which marked his time to start heading to his next class. Standing up, he smiled down at you. "Seriously, if I could take back all the time spent listening to Pete go on about how good you look in your jeans, I'd be one well rested guy."

You rolled your eyes, but it betrayed the small smile growing. After all, he wouldn't be Harry if he wasn't a flirtatious dweeb. "Bye Harry."

"Show him the video, [Y/N]. He'll love it. You know I'm right."

And then there was one...

Later in the day, you were talking with MJ after school, waiting because Peter always insisted on driving you home because chivalry was not going to die as long as he was alive to keep it going.

When he finally showed up, the first thing he did was take you by the hand and give you a quick peck on the forehead.

"How are you guys doing?," he asked as your little trio started to walk.

"We're good," you chirped, ever so conscious of the phone in your pocket that you were suddenly very hesitant to pull out.

MJ noticed and nudged you. "You got anything you wanna show anybody, [Y/N]?," she asked with a smirk, causing Peter to look at you curiously.

You stayed quiet, but MJ still wasn't putting up with it. "I think you may have a video that you made..."

You remained silent and Peter looked at you, a lot more confused now. MJ frowned. "Um... cough.. cough."

Peter laughed and stopped walking. "Okay, what am I missing?" He looked to you and when he didn't see your expression falter, he looked to MJ. "What's going on?"

Michelle shrugged. "[Y/N] wants to show you a dumb TikTok she made but she's scared about how you'll react."

"Michelle!," you scolded.

She shrugged again. "What? You weren't going to say anything anytime soon."

"A TikTok?," Peter questioned. "Cool, which one did you do this time?"

You could feel your face heat up for the hundredth time that day. "It's a...um.." You stared down at the ground. Jesus, this was hard. "..It's a body positivity trend."

His eyebrows went up at that. "Oh, well um.. is it cool if I see it?," he asked.

You blushed. "Sure." You pulled out your phone and opened the app. When you got to the video you quickly shoved it into his face before you had a chance to second-guess yourself.

Both you and Michelle watched Peter's face as he watched the video.

His cheeks immediately turned red but his expression was unreadable. He had to have watched it over 5 times before MJ pulled the phone out of his hand. "Helloooo, earth to Peter Parker?"

She snapped into his face several times and he started to blink wildly, apparently being pulled out of a trance. "I...um- heh.."

You gave a small, nervous smile. "..did you like it?," you asked, growing confused as stared at you, his expression still the same. "Um, Peter?"

Suddenly, he smiled and let out a little chuckle. "Sorry... just..." He laughed again and scratched his head, unable to keep eye contact. "You're just- like.... really hot."

You blushed. Fuck. "You're not just saying that are you?"

"No, really like-" He looked back at the phone. "...Damn." He bit his lip. "How on earth did I get so lucky?"

"Okay, can we please get in the car before I throw up?"

The two of you looked at an uncomfortable MJ with embarrassment riddled on your faces. "Yeah, totally," you said with an awkward cough. "Sorry."

"Nice video [Y/N]," Peter murmured bashfully, opening the door of his car for you, his face still beet red. "Really nice..."

Tagging: @allegra-writes, @allegra-soleil l, @yumings, @hey-its-grey, @spideyyeet, @sunkissedspidey, @tommyunderoos, @chaoticpete, @snarky--starky, @sovereignparker, @thesherlockianavenger, @bubblebucky, @eridanuswave, @ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr , @kidney9-9, @gwenvrse

[kangaroo-sniper-imagine]

Engineer

Has lots and lots of questions; he is a man of learning and he is determined to fully comprehend every facet of your sexuality. It doesn’t even compute to him that it’s something others would find strange

If his questions make you uncomfortable, he’ll apologize profusely, explaining that he just wants to know everything so that he won’t have to ask you uncomfortable questions later and how he wants you to be comfortable with him about it now

Overall Dell is very understanding and loves you even more for trusting him enough to tell him

Medic

He nods and continues working. Lol but for real, Ludwig has studied just about every facet of the human being, body and mind, sexuality included. He may understand the textbook definitions and you can elaborate how you discovered this about yourself if you want, but Ludwig doesn’t see you exactly different

He’s understanding and plus side is you won't have to elaborate very much and he respects you regardless of what you identify as

To Ludwig it’s not particularly a huge deal, although he appreciates the courage it took to come out to him

Scout

Not gonna lie, it might take a bit for him to get it. He’s kinda like “Both is an option?!” Like you just might lead him to his own Bi awakening. He was raised in Boston, which is like one of the most Catholic places EVER, and whatever feeling he had for the same sex he compansated with trying to get with the opposite.

He respects the hell out of you for being so open about it, and will take a bat (or fish) to anyone who tries to give you shit! You are his badass s/o and you can do whatever you want! Including liking dudes and chicks! (As long as you like him most)

Jeremy needs a bit of time to understand it in full, but after he gets it is like, obnoxiously supportive of you

Spy

You think this frog is straight? Lol. Jacque kinda figures, pulling deductions himself. Honestly was more worried you were going to break up with him when you said you two needed to talk and was hella relieved that you were just coming out to him

He understands that it takes guts to confess something like that, and to someone like him who remains annoyingly vague on where he stands on certain issues. He tells you he is proud of you for telling him and that he sees now as more of a stronger person for being able to be honest to yourself

Jacque is easily the most understanding out of all the mercs and appreciates your company more after coming out to him

Sniper

You say it suddenly and without prompt and spits out his coffee in surprise. After regaining his composer, he asks again for what you said and to elaborate. After you do, he takes a moment to digest all the information. He’s a sniper and a bushman, part of his expertise is being able to think and make decisions quickly

He decided to respond with, “Neat,” and goes back to whatever he was doing. Mick has met loads of people through his line of work, he’s not exactly shy to those who walk a different line. You’re still you, he just knows more about you now.

He’s not put off by it at all, and he tells you he appreciates that you told him. He ensures you that your trust was not misplaced and he thinks that being open with each other like that is going to deepen the bond between you

Soldier

Once it hits him that what you're telling him isn’t something that you tell just anyone, he treats it like the next national secret. He kinda simplifies your confession to “You like men and women but you’re with me” and he accepts it.

If anyone finds out and gives you hassle for it, Jane is NOT afraid to yell at the harasser until he’s blue in the face. There ain’t nothing wrong with liking ALL Americans! Even if Jane isn’t 100% knowledgeable about the complexities of your sexuality, he still respects it cuz he respects you

Best person to tell if you don’t want anyone to know; Jane takes his relationship with you VERY seriously and won’t ever do something on purpose to betray your trust. And if you want to come out to everyone, he’s right behind you! Emotionally, and physically, staring down all the others to make sure no one starts shit with his s/o

Heavy

After you come out, Mikhail is silent for a moment, then pulls you into a bear hug. He’s a little weepy, going over how much he loves you and how all this is is you showing him another wonderful part of yourself, and how it's wonderful because it's a part of you.

He’s read all sorts of books and stories about authors struggling with their sexuality, most of them not ending well, and he wants to let you know that whatever you are is great and that you are loved still. If your parents rejected you or you have bad experiences coming out to other people, Misha is overshadows all their hate with his all encompassing love

He just loves you so much it's adorable and ridiculous. All he wants is for you to be happy and to feel safe around him

Demo

Tavish takes a moment to absorb the information. He gets that your sexuality is important to you, and you telling him is a huge sign of trusting him, and he takes that very seriously. He feels almost bad for not having something as big as that to tell you in return so you’ll be on even ground again

He tells you he understands and he thanks you for telling him, he seems solemn for once and you understand he’s taking this extremely seriously. Tavish values your trust above all and this is like a sign to him that your relationship is now serious

Will straight up explodes anyone who bothers you about your sexuality. He’s earned the right to know by getting to know you and no asshole at the bar gets to belittle you for something you take pride in. He fucking adores you and no one gets to be a dick to you

Pyro

Pyro loves you no matter what! You could be bi, straight, hell, a serial killer for all he cares, all they care about is they you two are together

Doesn’t really understand why you were so worried about telling them. Once you explain that others dislike/hate you just because your bi, they become kinda quiet and have a moment of, “I’m going to protect you with my life now cuz the world is shittier than i even imagined.” You’re his s/o, you could do no wrong. Ergo, being bi isn’t wrong

Loves you regardless of what your sexuality is, but doesn’t understand the importance of it to you. Totally willing to burn some jag off who gives you shit as a symbol of his devotion to you

- I didn’t do the gender fluid because i am not 100% certain upon the semantics of it (not that I don’t respect it) so i just stuck to the bi thing cuz as one, I’m more acquainted with it-

[jjmaybanksblog]

On My Own- Rafe Cameron

(Gif credit @popemaybank )

Summary: After you raised your child by yourself for the last 3 years, Rafe comes to his senses to finally become the dad he never was.

Word count: 1,321

Warnings: Teen pregnancy

Y/N your name

Y/C/N your child's name

Rafe Cameron sat at the family dinner table, poking and prodding at his steak and broccoli. He carelessly flipped a piece of broccoli around his plate as Rose forced conversation with his younger sister and father.

"Wheezie, anything new today?" Rose asked from the end of the table, sipping from her glass of wine. "Normal day today. Then I ran into an old friend of ours- Y/N." Wheezie smirked as Rafe choked on air after hearing your name. His parent's faces lit up after hearing your name, you were Rafe's favorite girlfriend.

You treated Rafe and his family with so much respect, you loved him for everything he was. "Oh my goodness! I haven't heard that name in what feels like so long. What did she say?" 

Rafe took a deep breath to prepare for his sister's words, "she said she's been doing well, having some family issues though." A smirk was evident in her tone as she shoved a piece of meat into her mouth. "Rafe, have you talked to her about that? Do you know if she's okay." Ward prodded at the boy.

"Uh no actually. I haven't actually spoken to her in a few years-" he was cut off by Wheezie announcing, "since he got her pregnant." The only sound that was heard was his dad's utensils clattering to the ground and his step mother choking on her wine. 

"Rafe, is that true?" His mouth opened, words trying to form however he only sat there like a fish out of water. "You got her pregnant?! What were you thinking?" His father yelled, standing up at his spot.

"That's the issue dad I wasn't thinking!" He screamed back at Ward, standing up from his spot as well. "Both of you knock it off! Rafe, when did you find out she...she was pregnant?" Rose asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"3 years ago..." He trailed off, thinking about how badly things between them ended. Ward loudly exhaled as Rose took the napkin from her lap and wiped her mouth. "I expect you to go over to her house tomorrow and speak to her about this." 

He simply nodded his head as his parents walked away from the table. Wheezie pursued her lips together picking at the food on her plate. Rafe walked up into his room and threw himself onto his bed, a million thoughts running through his head.

The Next Day

You were watching Y/C/N play with her stuffed animals, giggling and cooing at the elephant one she's had since she was a baby. She was an energetic little one that wasted no time in draining your battery, but you would do anything for her. 

Your family was rather supportive when they found out you were pregnant, shocked nonetheless, but they knew you were frantic and needed any help you could get. Your mom or dad would come over to watch her when you didn't get any sleep for multiple days straight. Your sister donated you toys from when she had her kids. The only thing missing from people helping out was your baby's father.

You knew Rafe was the father of your baby. He was the only person you had any sort of intimacy with. The moment you thought you were pregnant, everything went fuzzy. You prayed you weren't, you were only a junior in high school and Rafe was a senior. You didn't want to have to leave the school and have rumors about you spread like wildfire. But you also knew Rafe couldn't bare to have the truth spread about him getting someone younger pregnant.

When you took the test, you nearly threw up then and there. You had no idea of how to tell him that he was the father. You knew he was too young, you knew he wouldn't want to have that burden on his chest, but you told him anyway. And that's when everything went even more downhill. 

He left after hesitating for a moment his final words being, "I'm sorry." Since then you woke up by yourself, each day your stomach slowly getting bigger and bigger. Your hormones raging, one minute you would be crying because you were alone, the next minute you were angry because of how easy Rafe left you. 

The day you gave birth was the best thing that's ever happened to you, you had given birth to your beautiful daughter, but had to cut the umbilical cord by yourself and had no signature for the father on her birth certificate. 

These memories slip your mind when your front doorbell rings. You keep and eye on your girl as you open the front door. Your heart immediately feels like it drank 20 cups of coffee, your heartbeat beginning to pound. "Rafe?" Your mouth failed to fully enunciate the syllables in his name.

"Hi Y/N..." He wanted to get down on his knees and just apologize as loudly as he could, but he was frozen in his spot. "Listen I have to say this because right now I honestly feel like puking not gonna lie. I am so... here I go. I am so fucking sorry I didn't stay. I'm so sorry I didn't take care of you, help you, be the boyfriend you needed me to be. I ran like the fucking coward I am, and I know there's no way I can take back these 3 years of not being here, and I know there's no way me saying sorry will heal anything, but fuck I want you to know how truly sorry I am and I accept that I fucked up horribly. To both you and your child."

You stared down at the ground before muttering, "I raised our daughter, by myself... but she's your child too you know." You knew he was sorry, you knew he was terrified when you told him. He was a teenager, he had his whole life ahead of him and he wasn't ready for this kind of responsibility. You don't blame him, you see the reason why he ran, you just wish he didn't.

His ears perked up at your phrase, he  nervously ran his hand through his hair, "do- do you think I can see..." he slowly trailed off, hoping you would catch on. You bit down harshly on your lip before inviting him inside your house.

You sat down on the couch as Rafe slowly walked in. "Come here Y/c/n!" Your daughter giggled loudly as she waddled over to your spot. You easily picked her up and sat her down on your thigh, softly bouncing it up and down. Rafe sat across from you and your child, his eyes not believing the sight in front of him. She truly looked like a mini version of you.

Y/c/n started mumbling a bunch of words that didn't make sense together, until she asked the question, "who dis?" Your voice got high pitched as you said, "this is daddy!" Rafe smiled brightly at the sound of that, his daughter giggled loudly as her eyes widened. "Daddy?!" 

"Yeah! Hey baby girl, wow you're beautiful. You look just like your mama." Y/c/n crawled out of your lap and plopped herself right onto his. One of her hands reached up and began to play with his hair, the other held on tightly to his index finger. 

Your eyes began to water at the interaction between the two, wishing that he was there since the beginning. "God Y/N... I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize what I was missing out on. I know it's so late but I will do anything and everything I can to take care of you both and love you both unconditionally."

The corners of your mouth tugged up as a tear rolled down your cheek. "Welcome to the family, Cameron."

[carrottuan93]

Haven’t met you yet| Mark

Masterlist (4/4)

Starring: MK x You

Tags: Mark Tuan, Fluff, Destiny, Waiting, Christmas, Bookworm, Nerd, Love, Fate

Total WC: 3075

An hour left before Christmas, Mark told you that he doesn’t believe in Santa Claus. He said he’d rather believe on the existence of aliens because he watched too much American movies about the extraterrestrial life. That sounded cool for you that you both share the same interest for the unknown life out there, but you don’t want to discredit Santa for giving you Mark to spend the Christmas eve with. He did not only hit the roof of your standards, but he exceeded them. He never cease to met all the bars for your ideal type and he’s never failed you so far with his vast array of knowledge of all the topics you guys are talking about in the past 2 hours. Guys for you are sexy if they can carry a proper conversation.

 “I swear to God if an alien comes out of nowhere, I’d let him take me and I’ll fly with him in a heartbeat.” You’re a whole lot better now that you’re sharing a lot of jokes and making fun of each other. Setting aside the world and the rest of the others. Just you, him and the wine under the starry sky.

 “Jesus, out of all the people in our planet, you chose to elope with someone from the outside world. In my case, I’d let them take me as long as they will show me how spaceships work so I could finally meet my childhood dream of becoming a space police, riding those cool ships and chasing bad aliens.” Your topic reached the outer space already but you’re now laying on the floor beside Mark, as you watch the open glass roof ceiling of the observatory with eyes wide awake.

 “What’s wrong with dating an alien? At least, I get to experience travelling to different galaxies and planets. So much for the trouble of chasing bad aliens for a living.” You snickered, earning his grumpy voice.

 “If you’re going to date alien, at least choose someone handsome.” He replied, placing both of his arms underneath his head.

 “I haven’t seen any handsome alien yet, I mean all the creatures that they show on tv are the ones with the big bald heads, oval shaped eyes, and lanky thin frames. I don’t think they’d fit the definition of handsome.” This is your first time watching under the stars on top of the freaking Namsan Tower observatory and you’re delighted to experience it on a Christmas day with Mark.

 “I am just right here beside you. I’m handsome since I was born, that’s already a given, I know. So just save yourself from the trouble of finding the alien guy of your dreams because Mark has come to save the unbothered princess from distress.” You don’t know if he’s still sober enough at this hour but you can tell that you aren’t drunk enough to be hearing this from him.

 “Handsome guy perks, a ticket to finding instant dates. Why do you even want to date me?” You turned to your side, facing him. You're curious and you want to get straight to the point.

 “Now that we’ve got to the topic of impressions, I think you’re quite interesting. That maybe you could make my Christmas eve a little less lonely, perhaps. Scratch that, maybe you could fit on all types of holidays and occasions. Maybe you’re a girl matched for all the seasons.” You felt giddy now that you’re facing each other, side to side, but still, you need to calm your high hopes for this guy.

 “If this is a date, I’m ditching you already.” You glanced at him quickly and was rewarded by his cute eye smile. Oh cupid, this is not fair play for showing up earlier than your scheduled season in February.

 “Why not? Am I not appealing to you? Come on. Try me." You watch his eyes examine your face, those hazelnut orbs are beautiful, and you want to train your eyes and treat them as their home. You never experienced staring at any guy for the longest time until tonight and all you can hear is the sound of him breathing, reciprocating your own rhythm. You aren’t aware that silence is actually too deafening when it’s the heart that does the talking. Those tall buildings appear smaller from a distant and they're glistening different hues and wavelength of bright lights, which are now witnesses to you finding love in the most unexpected way. But you don’t have the concrete definition of love because you haven’t felt it before. You just know and you can feel the unfamiliar zip of current travelling on your bloodstream. It’s just the two of you, and you’re under the supervision of the constellations in the open sky above, and it’s magical that you feel like these were the exact same stars that the first lovers saw on earth. How come it's too peaceful up there when you lay next to him? It’s a perfect moment for your exhausted soul to recover from your endless pursuits and maybe this is your fate taking its move. You are no daredevil to begin with and chasing ecstasy aren’t your cup of tea because you’re always craving for assurances in all the right places. But Mark is your risk and guarantee, all at once.

 It is really tiring to find something when you don’t even know what you’re searching for in the first place. One thing is for sure, you haven't met anyone so random and fascinating like him. He's unique, overflowing with charms and maybe a box full of surprises for you to discover. Deep down, you've been wanting to get to know him more and you're aware that you're crossing oceans knowing that you’ll meet him on the other end. It is very unlike you to just casually lower your guard down for someone upon your first meeting but when it comes to Mark, everything seems to magically untangle in all the right places.

 “Because I’m beginning to think that I misplaced my heart somewhere when it is still right here, intact on my rib cage. It’s just that my heart feels foreign to me now that you’re slowly owning up most of the empty spaces in my atrium.” He smiled like a panacea of all earthly ills and his smile could heal the world.

 “I am no poet, but Paulo Cuelho once said ‘if it’s still in your mind, it is worth taking the risk’. I could see the thrill of chase, the first time I laid my eyes on you last night and you never left my mind ever since I got to talked to you tonight. Actually, I’ve met you already a long time ago. So you need to catch up with me and we all have the days on our feet to go on a lot of spontaneous pursuits, and you’ll make up for the lost time that you’re supposed to have known me already.” He’s too good with words and you’re drowning and drowning and you never wanna be saved. You’ve encountered almost all kinds of contracts on your work already and you always make sure to read the terms and agreements regardless of the number of pages but when it comes to Mark, you’d gladly sign the papers right away even with your eyes closed. But something doesn’t feel right with what he is saying.

 "First of all, I haven’t met you yet not until this evening.” Maybe it’s the wine that’s getting you drunk, hearing things and such.

 “You wouldn’t believe me if I tell you that you’re the reason why I traded my Christmas in the US for a night here with you in Seoul for a blind date. I might sound stupid, but you should thank Jackson for all the credits. He introduced you to me a year ago and I stopped attending parties ever since my cousin did all the marketing strategy and such. It’s crazy right? For all I care, I’m tired of all things temporary so I trust my cousin when he said that you’ll give the permanence that I’m searching for. I don’t really know, I’m a random guy and I told my mom I’m hopping on a 14 hour flight to Seoul on Christmas eve to meet this girl so I went here for risk’s sake. And my luck has never failed me when you come to my place last night, barging in like some kind of an annoyed girlfriend coming home from a party. Damn, you nearly broke my unit’s lock system. You can claim your stuff at my place later when we go home, and you owe me a ‘Thank you’ because I saved you from carelessly sleeping into someone else’s bed. I respected your drunken state and I slept on the floor, so you have nothing to worry about. I’m just surprised that you disappeared in the morning all of a sudden without even saying anything.” You sat on your place, unable to process everything that he just said. You realized you’re so done, the heavens above could just open up and take you already because there isn’t any influence of wine taking over your completely sober minds. Everything is real and happening and you’re overwhelmed, and you don’t know what to do anymore.

 “WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT???!” You screamed to your shock, running all over the place like you killed somebody and you badly want to escape the room due to your embarrassment.

 “Wow, you even curse louder than I’ve imagined. It’s alright, Y/n. I’m fully aware that you love the scent of fabric conditioner because you can’t get enough of me last night. I can’t blame my parents for giving birth to myself. I left your stuff in my room, but I know I got something that you badly need right now.” He fished out your planner from the pocket of his coat, waving it like some kind of a show money in the air and you’d do what it takes to retrieve it back to your possession.

“Relax, I didn’t mean to interfere with your personal schedule, but I just saw a picture of pink roses at the back of your planner.” He gave you the planner and you hugged it like your world depended on it. He clapped his hands in the air and a guy came out of nowhere, carrying a bouquet of full-grown pink roses. It’s your first time receiving your favorite flowers from a guy and you feel like you don’t deserve Mark because he’s too good for you. Your eyes are now brimming in tears, knowing that God already gave the sign that you’re looking for. He’s standing right beside you and all you need to do is to take a leap, because it’ll be all or nothing.

 “Jackson, you’re so dead to me. He sold me even without my permission and now that you’re right here, I’m suing you as well because of the amount of emotional damaged you have caused to my system. Now I’ll never be the same again because you gave me an ocean when I’m only asking for some rain.” You’re crying because of happiness. He dried your tears and he hugged you, so tight, you never wanna let go of him anymore. He smells of fabric conditioner and you’re never going to shut up about it.

 "If only you can see yourself from my own perspective, you'd want to date yourself too. You sound scary whenever you want to sue someone because of something. First, it's my cousin Jackson and now you're suing me as well. That makes you interesting. A tough nut to crack. You're a challenge and I'm always up for the stakes of it. I'm not a perfect guy but we can save all the paralegal proceedings with just settling everything in our own terms, alright? I'm a man of my own words. I might be a pro player, but only in games for your reference, because I don't play with hearts, I win them. You just need to chill and worry about not falling too hard for me. Because I'm pretty sure, I'd beat you up to it." The man's got a way with his words. He's the definition of smooth and speed at the same time. But he's more than that. You like smart guys, you're attracted to their brains and you'll be placing all of your poker cards on the table for this sweet bounty.

 "I'm not sure if our personalities coincide or if our interests are compatible but I'm hoping that whatever it is, this mutual attraction tonight isn't just a one-time thing. Just so you know, Eunhee has given me enough stress with all the troublesome blind dates I've been to lately. All I’m asking is for you to be sincere and honest because once I let you in my life, you'll never be allowed to leave anymore." You glanced down on your fingertips, too afraid to enter a commitment, you feel like you're having a mini heart attack. You swear that Mark could really hear your heart pounding louder than ever.

 "Fate is really unpredictable. If you will ask, I'd rather believe in the existence of aliens more than Santa but what if he's really residing in the North Pole and he gave you to me as my Christmas present? I’m not going to run away because the chase is finally over. All you need to do is surrender yourself to me. No more buts, and what ifs. Only if you'll gonna agree to date me, my Dad will be really proud of raising a gambler just like him.” You could only wish for time to stop right there on your spot. You couldn’t ask for more, you began to doubt yourself if you really deserve all the good things that has come to your life. You wouldn’t want to wake up from this fantasy, but your eyes aren’t going to lie, there is love all over the place and you can see that it is real and happening this time.

 "I don't know much about you, but I would love for you to to bring me into another spontaneous trip of yours cause I'm absolutely up for more of your surprises." All you can ever hear is the sound of a loud bang with all the fireworks lightning up the sky in iridescent hues as you froze right on your spot, eyes wide open, when you felt his lips on yours in one swift chaste kiss. He's too gentle, you can feel his breath becoming one with yours. He pulled away and you both greeted each other a 'Merry Christmas' as a couple. That was your first kiss taken from you and it tasted sweeter than wine.

 “I want to let you know that I’m actually your secret Santa. I may have come to the party without bringing my gift, but I made sure to tag you here along with me so you could appreciate my gift in person. It's me, I'm the gift itself and I'm already yours, Y/n." Did he just show you an aegyo? Gosh, you almost melted with how cute he is. Mark must have been blessed with all the charms in the world. He showed you a piece of paper with your name written on it. You don’t believe in destiny until you brought out your own paper and saw his name written on it.

 “I didn't know if Eunhee and Jackson has something to do with this but I’m your Secret Santa too. If this isn't destiny, then I don't know what is. But you can have my heart for Christmas, and I hope you'd take care of it from now on.” You showed him his name written on the paper and everything became irrelevant all of a sudden. As if floating on a zero-gravity dimension, you felt like a lifeless feather on thin air but your heart is betraying you by falling too deep for this guy. He's a one chance in a lifetime, an answered prayer from your last lifetime and your sweet serendipity.

  "Now that everything went the way I wanted it to be, I'm up for another trip this New Year's eve, on your birthday." Just when you thought you've been blessed with so much this year, there are actually a lot more surprises to come.

 "Jackson has told you a looot about me, even my birthday, and I'm not going to be surprised about that. Anyways, what about the trip?". He reached for your hand and you felt delicate in his grasp. Too weak and too fragile but your heart is full and that's the only thing that matters.

 "My father is the CEO of TUAN RESIDENTIAL, a US based real estate developer which also means we are your firm's newest client. I know this is the craziest coincidence on top of everything, but I just discovered it this morning when I saw your planner and read the details about the meetings you've attended in the past week. I find out that you're actually part of the accounting firm that we hired. With that, I want to formally introduce their Vice President, Mark Tuan. We're acquiring a domestic corporation here in Seoul so we could expand our own line of business here in Korea. Trust me, this looks like a prank but I guess fate will really find a way for us to cross paths together no matter what. But we aren't talking about work here. Instead, are you ready for another surprise? I'm taking you with me in the US ahead of New Year’s Eve so you could meet my father and discuss a little about the liquidation proceedings. And of course, my mom would love to meet the reason why her son traveled to the other side of the world. She'll be glad that his eldest son will finally bring a girl in the house. So be prepared, Y/n, because we're leaving in the next 24 hours.”

  and all this time you thought 'why are people too patient when they are waiting?' Simply because you wouldn't want to come under prepared if love suddenly comes along your way when you least expect it.

    “WHAT THE HELL! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, MARK??????”

   “Cool. I like girls who cuss a lot.”