#also i don't think i once called him by his real name while watching the show

[madegeeky]

Never thought I'd see a cop show be so fucking liberal and thoughtful as to acknowledge that a person who is diagnosed with psychopathy is not, by default, a serial killer. They have "persistent antisocial behavior, impaired empathy and remorse, and bold, disinhibited, and egotistical traits" (Wikipedia) but none of that means that they are going to (or have) become a serial killer. (The show uses the word "psychopathy" so that's what I'll be using.)

The basic premise of the show, which is the Korean drama Bad Guys, is that a detective uses 3 prisoners to help him fight crime, usually people who have killed repeatedly. There's the mobster, the hitman, and the aforementioned psychopath, Jung-moon.

It later turns out that Jung-moon has been framed for the serial killings that he went to jail for. He was framed, in fact, by the detective he is now working for because, well, he was a psychopath so that meant that it had to be him, even if there was no real evidence.

But it is wrong and the show specifically states that. It was wrong, the show says, that this was done to someone no matter what they were diagnosed with. It was wrong, the show says, that the detective assumed the worst of Jung-moon because of his diagnosis. It was wrong, the show says, that Jung-moon was sent to prison for years. It was cruel and awful and wrong.

And the show never refutes that Jung-moon has psychopathy! Never! No one ever calls it into question, tries to say that he didn't do the killings because he's not obviously not a psychopath. He has psychopathy but he still didn't deserve to go to jail or be treated the way he was treated. The psychopathy is never used as a reason to make it better or understandable that he was sent away.

They even have the detective apologize to Jung-moon! "I branded you as a psychopath, blaming everything on you," says the detective. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me." There's no attempt to make excuses, to pretend that there was another reason he thought it was Jung-moon. He straight up just admits that that was the only reason he targeted Jung-moon. And he acknowledges that this was wrong and cruel of him.

The detective then gives Jung-moon his gun and tells him that he deserves to be shot by the other man. And Jung-moon puts the gun to the detective's head and says, "I can't feel the emotions you fee. Because I can't feel those feelings, I wanted to learn them. Whether it's blame, sadness, happiness, I learned from you for the past couple months." And then Jung-moon doesn't pull the trigger. He's a psychopath. He has low empathy and low self-control and he still doesn't kill the detective.

I just wasn't expecting such a nuanced, respectful, and kind look at a character diagnosed with psychopathy from a silly little cop drama which is basically just a mystery with cops being overly dramatic and a fuck ton of fight scenes. It was just incredibly refreshing to see.

[adayumantium]

Some sfw domestic Logan hcs bc im trying to keep my children FED while I start my new job: 

I desperately need to talk about Logan mowing the lawn bc like,,,

You KNOW he refuses to use the fancy ass riding mower and insists he uses the push mower. He always does it shirtless and sweats to the point he glistens. (you always watch from the window and have an ice-cold beer ready for him when he comes inside).

He's also super stubborn if anything in the house breaks, like this man does not believe in calling people or watching tutorials. Logan Howlett is going to DIY this shit if it kills him.

He also grills with his claws. Like hot dogs just like skewered on his claws and you hate it but also deal with it as long as he doesn't do it in front of your neighbors.

he has an apron that says "my meat is going in your mouth today" (it was a gift. probably from deadpool)

You like to bring him to IKEA because he's strong enough to carry the furniture, but he thinks its dumb ("I can make all of this shit for a quarter of the price, and hell, I'll give it a name you can actually pronounce..." and "if you don't need tools to build it, that shit's not real furniture")

At first, Logan only lets you be the big spoon bc he saw how happy it made you, but after a while, he started to request it like once in a blue moon. You call yourself his little jetpack, and those nights are the best sleep he gets (he would never admit this)

[toast-on-dandelioms]

Hello, I really a fans of your work and always waiting for the updates. I have a question, what happen if Y/n just ignore the batfam as Y/n also turn to superfam becoming their family. It also assuming Alfred A-Okay with it. Oh, also Y/n might be have relationship with one of the superboys and she love to cuddle with the lover. Well, that's just my wild imagination thinking about.

Oh well, I hope you have great days.❤️😘

Thank you for liking my work! If you're asking for part 4, it will come out soon and probably by the end of next week!

Well, I don't think Alfred would be totally a-okay with this and after a bit he would act to 'fix' the situation.

He wants you to stay at the Manor and be appreciated too by the Batfam even though they don't even know you exist.

He has tried before, talking about you to Bruce and the others but they always dismissed him with the excuse of being busy or forgetting about you the next day.

And seeing you giving up on being with your real family and finding love in another family that actually accepts you and he can't accept that.

You're supposed to be with him as the rest of the Waynes not with some alien family.

He would act like he supports you whenever you come to visit him since you mostly live with the Kents nowadays and come to the Manor to grab the things you needed since you were moving your stuff from the Manor to the Kents house.

After a while you start to come home, to come back to him even less before you just visit him maybe once a month before it turns into no more visiting him since you're busy with school, dance classes and the vigilante role you still have.

And Alfred hates it so he decides that he can't stand to watch his boys obsess over your vigilante persona when they can't even bother to notice you weren't living in the Manor anymore.

So he decides to call a family meeting without your knowledge and explains everything, who you were behind the mask and how dissapointed and ashamed that the people he raised didn't even acknowledge that you existed.

Their reaction, which were mostly of confusion before realisation bothered him but he stayed silent and used their reaction to manipulate them, make them think you weren't in the right place with the Kent family.

And after a week from that meeting, you started to receive texts from all the batfam and also kept seeing them everywhere, with Bruce at school or when you were patrolling the city.

He would always try to talk to you, which you ignored or gave him the finger while swinging away, preferring to not engage in his tries to connect with you.

Plus he would show up at your dance recitals when you never said anything to Alfred about them and he would always be right in first row with a smug smile since he knew you couldn't do anything.

Plus you already knew they knew who you were behind the mask, they said your name when you had your mask on so many times you wanted to punch their faces.

You had to skip a few days of school because Tim and Damian started to show up at your same highschool and sitting next to you in class, to which no one would say anything and it frustrated you since highschool was one of your safe places but not anymore.

You tried to ignore Dick and Jason's attempts at stalking you, not because it was noticeable since you never saw them but the spider sense made you aware you were being watched and after a bit you were able to notice them following you.

Yes you did feel proud since you didn't have any detective training like the others but still knew who was following just by using the things around you.

You vented your frustrations with Clark and Conner and they did help by letting you skip school and everything but you had to go back to school or it would affect your attendance and damage your reputation and curriculum for future colleges applications.

But one fateful day, you went to a mission with Conner and Clark since they needed a third person but couldn't bring Jon since he was busy with school, so you went in his place.

During the mission you got ambushed, Conner and Clark were at disadvantage since the attackers (not sure on the term, the people that attacks) somehow had kryptonite weapons.

Plus you were also fighting, using the tasers and also the objects around you like rocks or trees.

Yes, you did throw a tree at a group of them and you also got Clark telling you not to do it again. Did you listen though? No.

As you were fighting you suddenly got stung by something in the leg, and when you touched the spot where it hurt you saw a small dart there.

You opened your mouth to call for Clark or Conner but someone covered your mouth and held you as you fainted while Clark and Conner had to flee since the attackers were too strong with the kryptonite.

The last thing you saw was the smiling face of Dick before completely giving in the drug you got injected in your body, not hearing them fight about who was gonna carry you in the batmobile.

[mythicmanuscripts]

SUB!AEMOND HEADCANNONS

Hello lads! Sub!Aemond lives rent free in my brain so I have decided to dump some head cannons for my thoughts on it. If you like what you read here, would like me to expand on some thoughts or would like to request an imagine/blurb, then check out my blog!

Needless to say, NSFW content under the cut.

Aemond tries to seem dominant at first, especially when you first met him. But that is very much just a facade. The first time you kiss, you give his hair a little pull and he whines and whimpers and just melts.

The moment you give him an order, no matter how small, he will do it instantly. Like, he'll be pretending to be in control but then you ask him to pour your wine and instantly he's doing it, and slapping the servant's hand out of the way when they go to do it because you asked him!!

Once he's done whatever you asked of him, he looks at you. He tries to seem indifferent, but he's watching you very closely to see your reaction, he can't relax until you've thanked him and praised him. If you don't praise him, he will think that he did badly.

Speaking of praise, he THRIVES on praise. From the first time you complemented him, he's hooked. Even the smallest complement or praise will make him struggle to hide his smile.

Also, once you start to praise him regularly he just... stops caring about what anyone else to say about him? He's not trying to impress Allicent or Otto anymore, not at all. As long as you're happy with him, he needs absolutely nothing else.

He LOVES being manhandled? He never expected to like it, until one day you're kissing and you just kinda move him to whatever position you want and just melts. He loves it, he will let you do whatever you want with his body.

I actually don't think it would take very long for Aemond to submit and be vulgar? And I think this because I think that the moment you start to praise him and support him he just... he's hooked. You call him pretty and walk away and instantly he's running after you, not wanting to without you for even a moment.

He's so desperate for that love and affection that when you offer it he just can't resist, and then couple that with you actually taking charge and telling him what to do? Marriage. Marriage right now.

alright alright let's do some real NSFW absolute filth now

the day Aemond discovers he can make you cum by giving you head is the day Aemond discovers his new favourite pass time.

Not only it is just very enjoyable for him but he gets to please you?? He gets to please the person who loves him and takes care of him?? He has that person moaning his name?? God he needs it.

He will beg to give you head, will cry and whimper and shake if you tell him to fuck you immediate. He only stops whining when you promise he can use his tongue to clean you up after.

He loves when you're rough, push him against the wall, pull his hair, choke him. He just melts under your touch.

However, and this is very very very important, absolutely no humiliation. None. Zero. He can't handle that, he lets you manhandle him because he knows you love him. Treat him harsh while saying the sweetest things. Call him your sweet pretty boy while choking him.

He loves to vent to you about his day, but he wants to do it between your thighs. Aemond's ideal way to end the day is to crawl into bed, licking and sucking you to his heart's content while he complains about how fucking stupid the small council is every time he takes a breath.

I have more thoughts but this is already longer than I thought so let me know if you want more!

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Moves

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: loosely based off Suki Waterhouse's Moves. It was also supposed to be SMUT, but apparently that wasn't meant to be.

Author's note 2: y'all I meant to post this earlier but got distracted.

Summary: Y/n has had feelings for Andrew for a while now, and she's pretty sure he feels the same. Can one night change everything?

Warnings: unrequited love, but also, more requited than not.

She likes him – maybe its a little more than like, at this point. She adores the colour of his eyes, the way they’re green when its bright out, but then when they meet at dimly lit pubs or he hangs around late at night and neither of them bothers to turn on an overhead light, they’re this dark, hazel hue. She is thrilled by his laugh – not the polite courtesy chuckle he spares when someone tells a joke that isn’t even funny – she means that full bodied sound that erupts from his throat when they’re watching that one episode of that one show, the way he rocks backwards a little and rests his hand over his chest. And there’s something about the way he says her name too, that makes Y/n giddy inside, especially when she picks up his call late at night, while he’s on tour and the rest of the band is asleep but he can’t seem to keep his eyes shut without her voice being the last thing he hears before doing it.

Andrew told her that once;

"I don't think I could sleep if I tried....I need to talk to you first. Hear your voice so I can just...."

"Just what?"

He paused, hesitating, "nothing, I just like the way you sound. That's all."

Y/n could have sworn that it would have been the call that changed everything. She'd held her breath until around two am, when he finally yawned and said he was going to try to get some sleep.

He must feel the same, Y/n determined shortly after that. Because friends don’t sling their long arms around your shoulders, or kiss your forehead right after pulling you against them.

Friends don’t have moments where their lips get so close to the other’s that it won’t expend any real effort to make them to touch.

Andrew was the one to pull away that night and apologize profusely before blaming it on the liquor. She’s never told him, but she wishes he hadn’t. She thinks about it so painfully often that she swears the memory is burning a hole into her heart – the ache of what could've been, but isn’t.

Y/n is thinking about it tonight. They’re sitting on Andrew's back porch, a bottle of wine shared between them. The backyard is illuminated by the light over the wide, glass door that separates his kitchen from the deck, and the blue hued, inground lights that give the pool that sits between his house and the foliage bordering the woods a glacial glow. Off in the distance, she can hear crickets and the occasional rustle of some other, nocturnal creature moving through the trees.

The mood would be entirely romantic if it weren’t for the smell of barbeque and booze clinging to the thick, humid air. It's why they’re outside; its unusually warm and sticky for an Irish October, but Andrew has informed her its becoming typical for this time of the year. He also said that being outside helps, but Y/n thinks that was just an excuse for them to sit outside in hopes that the fresh air would sober them up.

But she doesn’t particularly mind – even if she’s been bitten by a couple mosquitoes.

Everyone else is long gone, and he'd asked her to stay back for a few more drinks while she helped him cram leftovers into his fridge. Its not unusual for her to be the only one left at his place – or vise versa – so Y/n is used to being alone in Andrew’s presence. In fact, she thinks she prefers when its just the pair of them, occupying a quiet space saying nothing but whatever pops into their somewhat inebriated minds;

“I read this poem that made me think of you.”

“I bought you a jacket, but I forgot to pack it.”

“Have you read that book I told you about?”

“Would you read this thing I wrote?” He asks after a couple hours of them going around in circles of menial chatter. Of late, everything Andrew writes is about her, and while he’s thought of telling her that more times than he can count, he can't seem to force the words out of his mouth. It isn’t even that he’s intimidated by her – that would be far too uncomplicated for an overthinker of his caliber. No.

He could never be intimidated by Y/n anyway; he’s known her for too long, too well. She’s the person that puts him most at ease; his heart doesn’t quicken when she touches his arm the way she’s touching it now as she says, “Of course, I’d love to.” In fact, the tick in his chest slows when she does that, he isn't nervous or worried or anything, he's just…. happy. And though her hands are usually so cold, Andrew swears there’s a tingle permeating the thin fabric of his grey Henley when she touches him.

Their eyes meet as Y/n promises to read what he’s written and she finds herself drawing in a shallow breath. There’s something else on the barest top of her liquor-stained tongue, but its refusing to break past her lips;

“I’ll read anything you write. I’d do anything for you, really.”

“Great, great,” Andrew beams suddenly, straightening his back before standing with purpose. “I’m gonna get it, wait here.” He doesn’t wait for Y/n to respond, not even with a nod, before disappearing into the house.

While he’s gone, Y/n tops off those sleek, stemless wine glasses with the remainder of the chilled Sauvignon Blanc and takes a sip of hers, hoping it’ll help combat the sticky heat that’s surrounding the property. She knows she probably shouldn't have anymore; her head is already fuzzy and there’s that tell tale film over her eyes. The one that makes lights stretch out like shooting stars and makes you feel like you're walking through a dream. Andrew must not be any better either, because he stumbled over all too familiar steps on his way back into the house.

“Got it,” he announces as he returns to the patio, raising the notebook over the head in triumph. Andrew is less than graceful when he retires next to her again, dropping the book into her lap. After a lengthy sip of his wine, he leans back onto his elbows. “It's the last thing in there,” his cheeks heat up, the dusty red colour creeping up his cheeks, towards his ears.

He’s a funny sort of drunk; chatty and able to make a joke of literally anything. He’s flirty too, yet somehow retaining his usual reserve. When they venture to pubs, he’ll flirt his way right into a one night stand without even realizing it, and then slink back to her side, rattling off an excuse involving the words, “ehm, well, she isn’t really my type.”

“Yeah? What is your type?” She’d ask, eyes challenging him.

He’ll look at her for a bit longer than usual, squirting his eyes a little as his waning smile fades completely. “Doesn’t matter,” he’ll eventually say dismissively, covering his words with a swing of his drink before changing the topic.

“Its not finished yet,” he mumbles as Y/n finds the page.

“It looks finished,” Y/n frowns, looking down at the way he’s signed the bottom of the page, the way he usually does after scrawling out the final words.

Andrew shakes his head, “ehm, I mean….the idea. I’m not done with the idea.”

“Oh.” They lapse into easy silence when she starts reading, meticulously scanning every line, barely restraining herself from ghosting her thumb over his hurried, untidy penmanship. Y/n can feel Andrew’s eyes on her as she reads. He's still laid back and propped on one elbow as he steadily sips his wine while she tries to get her hazy mind to comprehend everything on the page.

Its a love song or a profession – or she’s pretty fucking drunk and has lost all ability to to comprehend words.

No, its definitely a confession. A beautifully written one. Of course everything he writes is always much akin to poetry; but with this, every word is strung together like tiny bulbs in a reel of fairy lights. Each one in perfect harmony with the other. They’re carefully chosen, as if just one were missing its entire, delicate balance would be pitched into uncertainty.

“Andrew….” He sits up, draining the last of his wine as she lifts her head from the page.

“Is it bad? The worst fuckin’ thing I’ve ever written?” He chuckles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he flashes her a lopsided smile.

“It's beautiful,” Y/n rasps, suddenly feeling like the air’s been knocked from her chest, or like she’s been running too fast. There’s something besides the night’s oppressive heat surrounding them, something fragile and precious. Part of her wants to say something else, she can see on his face that he’s aching for more, but Y/n is absolutely terrified that if she does, it’ll be the wrong thing and the moment will be shattered into a million little pieces, scattered across the forests behind his house by an unexpected breeze, the way it happened on a night all too similar to this one.

“But?” Andrew is the one that dares to speak, the word uttered softly and with the weight of reproach clinging to its single syllable.

God, what if he’s ruined everything? What if the reason he’s never been able to tell Y/n the way he feels is because a morsel deep within him knows she doesn’t return his feelings. Andrew doesn’t even know if she’s interested in a relationship – or anything adjacent – right now, she doesn’t talk about going on dates and or fancying anyone.

What if the reason she never talks about other men is because she’s somehow gathered how he feels and is trying to protect him from the hurt? That would be awfully cruel, but he supposes it's the kindest thing she can do without ruining their friendship.

“But….” Right before her, in a matter of seconds, a dozen emotions cross Andrew's face and Y/n realizes that, if she’d been in front of a mirror the night he told her he likes hearing her voice before he goes to sleep, this is what she might have seen reflected in it. That cautious hope, with a bit of fear sprinkled in.

Upon realizing that there's no ‘perfect’ thing to say, Y/n hastily leans forward and rests her lips on his, in a chaste, close-mouthed kiss. He’s shocked at first, she can feel it in the way he stiffens. But after another couple breaths spent like that, Andrew wraps an arm around her, flattening his palm on the center of her back. As he relaxes, Y/n deepens the kiss, deserting the book in her lap to cup his face. His beard tickles the inside of her hands, just like she’s always imagined it would, and his tongue and lips are sweet with the wine’s fruity notes.

When they break, faces only inches apart, Andrew lets out a shaking breath while Y/n holds onto hers. “God….I don’t think I would’ve ever done that,” he admits, shoulders rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths.

Sometimes he wishes he had her courage, but most times, he’s glad its hers.

A hint of a smile tugs at her kiss-swollen lips. “I know,” she laughs softly, the sound airy and musical.

Her eyes are twinkling, like two stars plucked from right over the vast bed of darkness hung over their heads. Andrew is certain that no two stars have ever shone brighter, so its fitting that they belong to her – the most dazzling person he knows. Setting his glass down, he lifts his free hand to her cheek, rough pad of his thumb tracing her lips. “I’ve been thinking about it for a damn long time,” he admits. It's hard for him to put a definite number to it, it might as well have been very soon after they met.

“Me too,” Y/n rests her hand over his wrist, offering it an affectionate squeeze.

“I think…..” he trails off, struggling to keep a firm grip on his thoughts. His imagination is running a little wild right now; his mind is already churning out thoughts of his future as it changes shape. It's funny to him how one thing can change everything else.

One kiss, and he swears he’s seeing the rest of his life. Holding it.

“Sshh, we don’t have to talk about it tonight,” Y/n whispers. Talking complicates – they’ve been talking for too damn long anyway, and knowing Andrew, his brain is already three weeks ahead of him. Its sweet actually, because every plan she’s made for her future has been built around him, and now suddenly, he’s doing the same thing. “Lets just….”

“Just what?”

“Do this,” in an instant, Y/n closes the space between them again and seals her lips over Andrew’s. That time, he responds immediately, pulling her against him until the only thing left for her to do is slide her leg over his thighs and shuffle into his lap, pressing her chest to his and draping one arm over his shoulder while she keeps her other against his cheek. The way his beard scratches the area around her mouth makes her smile, and she thinks its something she'll get used to quickly.

All of it is so close to being as commonplace his arm slung around her shoulders and the sound of his voice coming through her phone while there’s a timezone and entire ocean between them. The way his mouth moves against hers, the heat of his hands as they hold onto her waist, the sound of his voice as he says;

“I’m glad you stayed.”

[waldau-archived]

softie — choi seungcheol | 890 words | fluff

#melonpan :c also, my need to include marriage in every other fic of mine needs to be studied.

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

"are you sure it wasn't as bad as i thought it was?"

you stop combing through seungcheol's hair with your fingers. "yes."

"really?"

"yes."

"i mean, i broke a plate, stepped on your mom's foot and—"

"i was there."

"—swore in front of your dad."

"i know, baby."

"promise it's okay?"

"seungcheol, if you ask me that question one more time, i'm going to eat up all of your melonpan."

seungcheol tilts his head up to look at you from where he's sitting on the floor between your legs. he tries to put on his best hurt face. "what happened to cheol? or love of my life? or even...pookie?"

you laugh. "you want me to call you pookie?"

"...no. but anything's better than my name."

"no," you say, resuming combing through his hair and detangling a particularly stubborn clump. "your name is lovely, even if you insist it isn't."

"it's just so...serious. it sounds like i'm going to get scolded."

"it's you. and i like it. but tonight didn't go bad at all, baby."

the thing is, seungcheol's never met anyone's parents before. at least, not since he became an idol. you had been telling him your parents should be more worried about hosting an idol at their place for dinner but seungcheol had been stressing about it for a couple of weeks, worrying about what to wear and what to gift and how to sit, till you held him by the shoulders and very sternly told him to be himself, and nothing more.

he's done just that tonight, and he's landed himself in this predicament now.

"you're just saying that to make me feel better."

you sigh and your hands stop working in his hair again. now seungcheol can't have that, so he turns around and clings to your leg.

"cheollie!" you say immediately, ruffling his hair. he lets go. "what, are you really that scared of what my parents think of you?"

"yes? they're your parents. and i met them for the first time yesterday. what if they tell me to stay away from their only child for the rest of my life because they didn't like my shirt yesterday?"

you fish out the television remote from behind the cushion and toss it into his lap. "show me a fancam of yours while i finish working on your hair. choose one you really like."

that doesn't sound good. why would you ignore what he said in favour of something else? unless—

"did they—"

"choi seungcheol."

that shuts him up. he scrolls through some videos on youtube and picks one he thinks looks good. you pull out a rubberband and gently tie his hair into a ponytail. seungcheol swears you have magic hands, because you've never once hurt him whenever you've volunteered to do his hair.

"done," you say, pushing him a bit forward so you can stand up.

seungcheol groans. "don't leave me alone."

"i'm just...going to get us some water?"

"i'm having a crisis here."

you giggle and sit back down, tugging at him till he climbs up and rests against your chest, both of you watching his videos of choice together. your grip on him tightens even though you don't say anything. seungcheol keeps quiet about it for exactly two and a half fancams before he twists to look at you.

you have a goofy smile on your face, and he feels kind of silly for wishing you were looking at the real life him, and not the one on the screen.

"what is it?"

"what?" you ask, looking down at him.

"you're smiling. at him."

you snort. "that's you."

"yeah, but i'm right here."

your eyes crinkle when you smile at him. seungcheol just feels like he's stepped into bright sunshine after a cold day.

"i was watching some edits of yours yesterday."

"oh. were they any good?"

"really good. but i wonder what your fans would think if they got to know you're the biggest softie in the world. none of that supposed alpha stuff here."

seungcheol pouts, but he can't keep it up for long. he's pretty much at his best when he's with you. you're the reason why he can physically feel his shoulders relax most days. you're also the reason he finds himself smiling a lot more.

"supposed?"

"well..."

seungcheol turns to bite your arm gently. you push his head away, not before pressing a kiss to it. "stop worrying so much, okay? you didn't mess up anything with my parents. do you have any idea of how much my mom liked you?"

"she...did?" 

"yeah. and my dad asked me when we're going to visit again."

seungcheol feels his worries dissipate. you don't look like you're saying it to placate him, but...

"are you..."

"...sure? cheol, my mother literally asked me when we're planning to get married. i think that's enough for surety, isn't it?"

seungcheol swears he can feel his heart beating fast enough to escape his chest. of course he'd love nothing more than marrying you one day, even if it's a long way down both of your futures.

"hm," is all he can say, settling back down against you. he doesn't mind you smiling at the version of him on the television. he's the one who's going to get to marry you, after all.

[i9messi]

Bonita — Ruben Dias

You met Ruben while you were on vacation in Ibiza, and even though you're strangers, an instant connection bonds you together.

Word count — 1,3k

a/n: I'm currently obsessed with Rúben, so I'll probably never stop posting stories about him. And, just a little reminder that I'm not a native english speaker, so don't be rude.

ruben’s masterlist

It was a gorgeous sight. The waves clattered against each other, making a sound that gave you calm. The sun was burning your skin, while you protected your eyes with sunglasses. With a book resting on your lap, you were talking to your best friend about how much you were enjoying your vacation.

You two arrived a couple of days ago in Ibiza, and you practically lived on the beach, on yachts and drank margaritas all the time. It was a girls' trip, and all you did was talk about gossip and people that you thought were attractive. You were no longer interested in your work or on your busy schedule, none of that mattered anymore.

“I need to meet a handsome man,” you said to her, as your eyes turned on the men walking down the beach. Most of them were attractive for your eyes but none of them made you feel things. The kind of things you thought were obvious, like a faster heart beating, red cheeks and a warm feeling.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but that one over there has been staring at you for a while now.”

You looked in the same direction as her, your gaze met a man that was also looking at you. It was a brunette guy, a very good looking guy. Everything about him caught your eye, even that smile he gave you when you started smiling. His smile was a mix between sincerity and charm.

“Is he real? I think all that alcohol made me hallucinate.”

Handsome men were a typical thing in your world. You worked as a photographer in a modeling agency, so you saw attractive women and men all the time. But the man who was looking at you now did not look like one of them, the man who was walking in your direction looked like a real man.

The stranger didn’t take long to arrive at your side. You saw his abdomen and a couple of drops on his tanned skin from getting into the water moments before.

“Hey.”

“Uhm, hi.”

Your friend got up from her place and winked at you. “I’m going to the water, let me know if you need something.”

Now alone, you pointed out the empty seat in your friend’s chair.

“You can sit down if you want. You’re too tall and my neck is going to start hurting if I keep looking up.”

He smiled and took a seat. “I saw you there and I couldn’t help but think I needed to come to chat with you.”

“Your face is familiar, are you a model?”

“No, I'm not. Why‘d you think I would be a model?”

He was handsome and had a body built like someone who spent a lot of time taking care of himself.

“I work with a lot of models, maybe I saw you there once.”

“I’m in sports.”

“Oh, let me play a game. I want to guess your job.”

He smiled at your sudden interest, “Guess.”

“Tennis player?”

“No.”

“Basketball player? You’re tall, that would make sense.”

“No, but you’re close.”

“Well, my last try. Footballer?”

He nodded. “We have a winner.”

The truth was, you already knew he was a footballer. You grew up in a household where everyone watched football and sports, so you knew several players. Also, your residence was in Manchester, so you knew some players who played for the citizens and Rúben Días was one of them. You didn't want to admit all of that, you didn't know why but making everything anonymous sound more pleasant.

"What’s your name?" he asked, seeming interested in knowing more about you.

“I think we should keep our names secret.”

His smile grew bigger. “You want to make things interesting, okay then. I’ll call you bonita.”

“Oh sir, that’s your way of flirting with me?”

“It’s not flirting if I say something true. You're pretty.”

You smiled, “Thank you, stranger.”

“By the way, I'm flirting.”

“Uhm, sadly for you, I need much more than a guy calling me bonita to fall for him.”

He laughed, a noise that provoked a blush in your cheeks.

“Don’t you fall for my charms? Well, I’m not a man who gives up easily.”

He was joking, but you thought there was some sincerity in his words. You couldn’t help feeling a little flattered.

The conversation started, it was a genuine interest on both sides, wanting to get to know each other. He spoke about his career as a professional football player and his passions in life. With the beach and the sunset involving you in a comfortable surrounding, it was simple and lovely to meet him more. When the sun started to fade and the dim light of the evening illuminated both of you, you knew it was time to leave.

“Will I see you again?” he asked, his accent and his voice making you feel things.

Your friend was waiting a few feet away and you stood up from your seat, holding your bag in your hands.

“We may meet again if fate wants it.”

“Can I at least have your number?”

“No, stranger. What did I say about fate?” You approached his face and left a kiss on his cheek. “Goodbye, Rúben.”

“Hey! How do you know my name?”

You let out a laugh. “A good magician never reveals their secrets.”

His smile was the last thing you saw when you left the beach.

It was your fourth day in Ibiza and your friend and you had decided to see the sunrise. You had arrived early to the beach, with your cameras and phones to photograph the sun appearing on the horizon. But when you arrived, your eyes caught someone else. Rúben was there, this time a shirt covered the upper part of his body. He might have had the same idea as you, because he was photographing the sunset with his phone.

Your friend knew your intentions, so she winked at you.

“Go, go, lioness.”

You walked until you reached his side, just then he noticed your presence.

“Hello, Rúben.”

“Hi, stranger. Have you followed me? I feel like you know everything about me but I don’t know anything about you.*

“I just know your name, don't be silly.”

“It’s much more than I know about you.”

“Well, I’ll tell you my name.” you let him know your name and he tasted the pronunciation on his lips.

“I was right, a bonita girl like you has a pretty name.”

“You're really flattering, Rúben.”

“Okay, now, how do you know who I am?”

“I live in Manchester, and my whole family loves football. I grew up with them explaining what an offside is."

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, now that we’ve cleared things up. Are you happy to know my name at least?”

The sun slid over the horizon and your eyes began to look at it.

“I want to know you better.” he said, and then, you heard the sound of his phone taking a picture of you. He smiled at the view.

“One day and you’re already in love with me, Rúben?”

“Stop, you make me sound like I’ve proposed. I barely know you, stranger.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted to know me better.”

He came closer to you, step by step, his brown eyes looking directly at your lips.

“Can I kiss you, bonita?”

“Yes, you can, bonito.”

Everything happened. His lips clashed with yours, while his hand settled on your hip, right over your summer dress. Something let you know that it wasn't a one night stand or a brief moment with a random guy, this was intimate and romantic at the same time. When you separated in order to fill your lungs with oxygen, he left you a quick kiss on your lips.

“I’m sure you’ll make my summer even warmer.”

[fanttasttica]

One plus one makes three

Rhysand x reader

After your one night stand with the High lord, you hadn't expected to see him ever again, but fate had other plans. You are pregnant, carrying the High lord's first child and you need to tell him. How is he going to react? And what will that mean for you?

Warnings: nothing (I think.. If you find anything, please let me know :D )

Words: 4129

Authors note: Thanks for participanting inthe voting! Since this idea got the most votes, i wrote it first. My next story will be on theme "enemies to lovers" :D

You weren't that type of a girl who got drunk every weekend and had a sex with males whose names you haven't bothered to learn. No.. So why was the universe punishing you for this? It was one night, only one. You were celebrating your birthday with some friends at Rita's, when you spotted the most beautiful male that ever existed. He was tall, seemed strong and there was this dark aura around him. He was undoubtedly powerful, but instead of fearing him, something dragged you to him. After some time you were watching each other from afar, he came up to you and asked you to dance. It was during your time on the dancing floor, when you found out it was no other than High lord or the Night cour, your High lord. It was the first time you saw him, the first time you talked to him and you thought it would also be probably the last. Maybe you ended up in his bed that night, but it was supposed to be only a one night stand, but fate decided otherwise. 

You weren't feeling well for a couple of days. Your friends were pushing you to see a healer and today you finally gave in. You visited your healer on the other side of the town, thinking she will brush it off, tell you to rest for another couple of days and eat chicken broth, you hated, but no. This wasn't only some illness you could get rid of after a few days. This would last for at least a couple of months and then the real fun would begin. You were pregnant. Carrying an heir to the Night court in your womb. Your stomach was still flat and if it weren't for your morning sickness and tiredness, you wouldn't have noticed you were pregnant yet. After finding that out, you thanked and said goodbye to your healer, leaving in a hurry. As if running from her would also mean that you would run from your situation. Unfortunately for you, that didn't happen. Symptoms still bothered you in the following days, reminding you about how screwed you were. 

“What are you going to do?” Your friends were curious, of course. And honestly you were too. “I have no idea. I am.. I only saw him once.” You answered her while running your hand through your hair. “Yeah, you saw him once. You slept with him once and you ended up pregnant.. I can't believe your luck.” It was hard to say if she was speaking ironically or not, because you wouldn't call yourself lucky. This wasn't some blessing. You weren't against children, you actually liked them and hoped one day you will have one, this was simply quite early for you and certainly with the wrong man. He maybe was a High lord, but you were an ordinary fae. He probably already forgot about your existence. “I don't even know how to contact him. Should I go back to Rita's in the hope I will meet him there? Should I send him a letter and tell him about this? And what should I write in it? Do I really have to tell him?” Not telling him anything and running to another court was an idea you were also toying with. “You can not possibly mean that! He deserves to know. And besides that, lies or secrets are always exposed in the end. He is the most powerful High lord of all times.. Do you really think you can keep this as a secret your whole life? Your kids' whole life?” You sighed in defeat and shook your head. “No, that's stupid.. I.. I just need another few days to collect my thoughts and think about ways to contact and tell him.” 

Few days passed by and you still weren't sure what to do. Why does it have to be so complicated? If he weren't the High lord, you would already have told him. It would make everything so much easier for both of you. It was pointless to cry over a spilled milk, but you couldn't help yourself, blaming it on your hormones. One day, you had enough of it. Enough of hiding in your room, crying and cursing on him and yourself. You were determined to find him, tell him about this and return home, so you could finally have some good rest without constantly thinking about this, because currently you were losing your head. You decided to try to find Rhysand again at Rita's. It seemed better to ask him for a minute there than marching to his house and demanding he would see you. You friends were supportive, not leaving you to be all alone. There always was at least one of them by your side, although you weren't finding it necessary, it was a nice gesture you appreciated. The first night you spent here looking for you, you hadn't had any luck, likewise the second or third night. But after sitting on the bar stool for the fourth night in a row, you finally saw him. He was talking to his friends, with a smile on his handsome face, unaware that his life was about to change drastically. 

Your heart started beating faster than ever before. In normal situations, you were a calm person, but obviously not today. “You should hurry and go speak to him, before other girls start to throw themself on him.” You swallowed hard.“Yeah.. I am going right now.” You tried to put on a neutral face and started walking towards him, even though everything in you screamed to run away. Suddenly, you were standing right before him and his friends, who were measuring you with interest in their eyes. You simply nodded at them in greeting and looked at the High lord. “You probably don't remember me, but we met here a while ago.. And I need to speak with you. It's urgent. ” At first you were worried he was going to send you away. He raised one eyebrow, but nodded and put away his drink, following you outside. Cold air hit you immediately, so you hugged yourself, before turning to face him. “I remember you, don't worry.” You weren't expecting that. “Yeah.. that's good.” It made a few things easier for you. Now you know there isn't a need to explain to him when you met and what you did together that night. “So? What did you need to tell me?” He was curious, of course. Maybe expecting you to try to seduce him, as many girls certainly did in the past, but there was nothing that could prepare him for this. “I am pregnant and it's yours.” 

There weren't many people who managed to surprise the High lord of the Night court. And even the least people managed to surprise him so much that he couldn't think of a reaction for the first few seconds. He was stunned, looking at you as if you were from another unknown world, so you took word once again. “To be honest.. I expected a worse reaction..” You sighed and looked at the ground. “I don't want anything from you. I want and will keep the baby, but if you don't want to, you don't have to be involved in the baby's life. I have people who will help me and also have enough money to take care of it. So.. It's up to you.” And with that, you left him standing outside alone, returning to your friends.

“How did it go? Did he take it well?” Immediately after your return, you were flooded with questions. You shrugged and drank water from your glass. “He was clearly surprised. I told him I don't expect anything from him and assured him it's his choice, if he wants to be involved or not and then left.” They laughed. “You told him this and just left him standing there alone? Oh my Cauldron, I would pay to see his face.” Maybe you would also laugh at this, only if it weren't you who was in this situation. You put one of your hands on your stomach. It was weird and also.. magical, knowing that right now, you are creating a new life. “He returned to his friends and is talking with them.” Your friend whispered to your ears. You could feel several pairs of eyes watching you. Shaking your head, you smiled at them. “Let's talk about something else for a while and try to enjoy this night.” You desperately needed some distraction and opportunity to think about anything else. In the end, the reason why you were here today was done and you deserved some break from this too. 

The next day, you were woken up by the Sun. After you forgot to close the curtains last night, there was nothing that could stop morning rays from tickling your eyes. Like any other day before, you were thinking, if you weren't dreaming this whole time, but morning sickness was clear evidence that in fact you were not. After brushing your teeths and hair, you dressed up, put on black leggings and your favorite jumper, you were ready for the day. For the last couple of days, you took time off from your job. It wasn't that hard,since you were running a small bakery with your friends and they almost forced you to stay at home. But today, you were determined to return. You wanted to start living normally again. There isn't a chance that you will spend a whole pregnancy locked in your room. You will take things slowly, so there is no chance for something to happen and it will all be good. 

Your day has been going just fine. After coming to work, you could finally be able to feel like a few weeks ago, like nothing was going on. Well, that was until the bell rang, announcing the arrival of another customer you should greet. After you look up, you find no one other than the High lord himself. “Shouldn't you be resting?” You raised your eyebrow. “Hello to you too.. I assure you I am rested well enough.” He came closer, the only thing between you was a counter, behind which you stood. “You don't need to work. I will take care of both of you.” You shook your head. “There is no need for that. I can work, what's more important, I want to work. I love my job.” Something in his face told you, he took this as a challenge. “You are pregnant with my child. I think I should have a say in this matter.” This whole conversation was uncomfortable for both of you. You both were very determined to do it in your way. And the fact that you were strangers had not been helping at all. You didn't know how to treat each other. “Then I guess we need to find some compromise.”

You weren't exactly thrilled with how some things turned out in the end, but on the other hand, it could be worse. After a long talk with Rhysand, how he told you to call him, you end up agreeing to stop working when you are halfway through your pregnancy, but that is not all. During those few weeks you will still be working, there will always be someone with you, during your shift. Practically, members of Rhys's Inner circle were supposed to babysit you. You knew it would be very unusual for you, but you were hoping that in a couple of days you will be able to ignore them or befriend them. You also agreed on moving in with Rhysand and his Inner circle, three weeks before the baby was supposed to be born and staying for at least a couple of months. “Honestly, I am surprised that you want to be so involved..” You mumbled. You two were talking almost your whole shift, which was coming to the end right now. “It's my baby, of course I want to be involved. We have to take care of her or him. Which brings me to my last point today.” He took your silence as a cue to continue. “We should get married.” You weren't sure what you were expecting, but this was certainly not it. Almost dropping a tray with two last gingerbreads, you turned to face him. His face was serious, there was no sign that he was just kidding, but you laughed lightly even so. “Good one. I am not marrying only because I am pregnant.” But he didn't let you brush that off so easily. “Why? It would be better. You would live in luxury for the rest of your life and I would have an heir.” Without this union, this baby would only be a bastard in the others eyes, you were aware of that, but you couldn't do this. “I already told you, I am comfortable with the life I am living. I don't need jewelry or fancy dresses. I was always determined to marry for love or not at all. And I am not changing my mind.” 

The weeks passed one by another. As Rhys promised, from the very next day, his friends started accompanying you, during your work. Sometimes, it was Morrigan you befriended quite quickly. It was because of her friendly personality. She was treating you like a friend from the start, promising you to always help you with the baby. Almost every time she came, she was bringing something for you or the baby. You It almost didn't make sense for you to go shopping for things for the baby since she was the one doing it. Then there were Cassian and Azriel. They also were friendly, but it took a little longer to get used to them, but after you started feeding them sweets from your shop, they warmed up to you and you were chatting like an old friend. The last person who you saw maybe two times was Amren. She wasn't rude, but when she was there, she was doing her own work and since you didn't want to disturb her, you hadn't talked so much. As for Rhys, he was visiting you every other day before and after your shift. The communication between you two was better and sometimes, you caught yourself staring at him, when he was talking to his friends and since that was exactly what got you into this situation in the first place, you weren't happy with yourself. 

“This is your last day, isn't it?” Morrigan was sitting on a table, smiling at you as you were counting the money before closing the register. “Yeah.. I still can't believe it.” You were half through your pregnancy and your bump was already showing a little. Fortunately, the morning sickness and tiredness have passed you by now. You were feeling great. “I don't know what I am going to do with my free time.” She shrugged. “You can read.. Paint.. Shop for the baby..” You chuckled at the last thing. “Thanks to you, the baby has more than enough clothes. And I pursue all my hobbies even when I am working.. Rhys is thinking that I will only lay in bed, eat and sleep, but that's simply not possible. I would lose my head after one week.” She smiled at you sympathetically. “My cousin behaves sometimes like a mother hen. I believe you, when you say it's annoying.. But you have to endure it only for another couple of weeks..” That wasn't helping. “I am not like a mother hen. I don't know what you two are talking about.”  You only noticed Rhysand, who was leaning against the door frame, now. “Yeah, you are worse.” You mumbled, after recovering from the shock he gave you. “You are hurting my feelings, dear Y/N.” You pursed your lips at him. “How are you going to recover from this?” His laughter filled the room and forced you to chuckle a little bit too. “When will you two finally get together? You are perfect for each other.” Neither of you answered her. 

As you expected, you were bored only after a week of not working. Sure, you had your friends and also new friends from Inner circle, but it wasn't enough. They also had work and their lives. So you decided to go bother the man who was responsible for your boredom, Rhysand. You already visited his home, he gave you permission to come and go as you pleased, so you decided to pay him a visit today with some sweet desserts from the bakery for him and a jar of pickles for you. The other symptoms of pregnancy passed, but this one, love for pickles, remained. You knocked twice on the mahagon door that led to his office and waited for his response, before opening them and walking in. “I am bored and it's your fault.” Rhys leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. “How is that my fault?” He obviously wasn't understanding your logic. Maybe it was because he was a male or maybe because his brain was not affected by hormones. “You didn't want me to work anymore, so I don't have anything to do and in addition to that, I am already sick of some things that I normally like! It's frustrating.” You sat on the chair across from him. “I need to finish these papers, but once I am done, I actually know what we could do together.. Until then, you are welcome to stay.” You thought about it for a while and nodded. “Okay, I will wait. And I would almost forget. This is for you. Morrigan told me you like this.” You moved the dessert tray across the table in front of him. He looked surprised and also very happy. “Thank you, it's nice of you, but you didn't have to do that.” You shrugged, picked up one pickle and ate it before replying to him. “I wanted you. Sweet is good for the nerves. And you'll need a lot of nerve to put up with my moods.”

There was a comfortable silence. Rhys was working, you were eating pickles and watching him. During this time, you found out some other new things about him. For example, every time he tried to concentrate intensely, he furrowed his brow, when he was thinking about something, he tapped his pen on the table.. “I didn't know I was so interesting to you.” You blinked a few times, before you realized he probably noticed that you were staring directly at him for the past few minutes. “I was just thinking how can I protect our child from inheriting your crooked nose.” He chuckled and looked at you, still smiling. “Your love for me is touching.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Are you almost done? I am running out of pickles.” He put the papers aside and nodded. “Lucky for you, yes. We can go now.”

You had to admit that his house was beautiful. It was so spacious, but cozy at the same time. It felt like home. During the tour Rhys gave you, you were imagining your life here. Imagining a little girl running around the corridors and Rhysand following her, while they are both laughing.. “There are only two other rooms I want to show you.” You offered him a small smile, “Okay, lead the way.” After climbing a few stairs, you reached the next floor of the house Rhys walked to the end of the corridor. “This is my room and right next to it..” He opened the door and let you walk in first. You gasped at the sight before you. It was a nursery. The walls were white and decorated with painted gold stars. Everything was ready. Closets full of baby clothes and other necessary things. Crib was in the middle of the room, filled with some stuffed animals and more blankets than needed. Tears welled up in your eyes. “It's so beautiful! Did you do it by yourself?” You asked, turning to Rhysand who was watching you with a happy expression. “Most of the things, although Cassian and Azriel had to help me to build the crib.. I am the most powerful High lord, but that thing is terrible.” You laughed at the idea of ​​the three strongest Illyrian warriors having trouble assembling a crib. “And Morrigan got the clothes.” You nodded, recognizing some pieces. “Thank you, really.” He walked towards you and carefully took your hand to his. “You don't have to thank me. I was happy to do it. After all, I promised you that I would spoil both you and the child.” The fact that your child was going to be spoiled was certain. And probably no amount of strictness couldn't prevent that. “As for spoiling you.. I also have room ready for you.”

It wasn't until Rhys pointed them out that you noticed a door not far from the crib. “This door leads to your room. And the door opposite.. to mine, so I can come and help you with the baby during the night or you can easily come to my room, if you would need it at any time.” It was practical, better than having to run to the hall and knock on his door there. “Are you ready to see it?” With this, he caught your attention once again. “Of course.” 

You fell in love with your room the first second you walked in. Rhys made sure the walls were painted in your favorite color. There was a table, not so far from the window. On the other side is a bookcase with a rocking chair next to it. The walk-in closet was the same size as your bathroom, which was as luxurious as everything else. “Okay.. Now I am really looking forward to moving in here.” You joked and lay on your big bed. Blanket was so soft you wanted nothing else than getting tangled up in it and never getting out. Rhys sat on your bed, watching you with a grin. “And I thought you said you didn't need a life of luxury..” He said playfully. As a response, you slapped him gently on his hand. “I don't need it. But I have to admit, it's nice.” You sat up and rested your head on his shoulder. He hugged you, with one of his hands, around your waist and placed his hand on your stomach, stroking it gently. “Only the best for you.”

Many weeks passed and now.. As you predicted, you were holding a baby girl in your arms. Your and Rhysand's baby girl. Your birth was quite easy, thankfully. You were happy. Rhys was all over the moon, not leaving you alone for one minute. The others were not better, they pushed each other away, only to get a better view of her, before Madja told them to leave, since you need to rest. So now, it was only you, Rhys and your little star. “I know I already said it.. But thank you.” You looked in his eyes and smiled. “I thank you. Afterall, this takes two.” Although most of the job was done by you, Rhys was amazing to you this whole time. Treating you like a queen. “I am really.. glad for this. Finding out I was going to be a father was shocking, I will not lie, but.. I am just really happy.” Hearing this made your heart jump with joy. “Yeah.. I am too. I am glad I met you. And I have to admit.. I grew fond of you.” He chuckled deeply and kissed the top of your head. “Does that mean you will marry me then? And I assure you.. I am not asking out of some obligation, because we have a child together.” Rhys was ready to give you time to think, but you didn't need it. It wasn't love at first sight with him. You were falling in love with him for a while, but now you were sure that he was your happy ending. Well.. him and your daughter. That's why there wasn't a trace of hesitation when you answered him, “I will.”

[grapejuicebrat]

“Was it real or just for show?” TEASER

PAIRING: famous!harry x famous!y/n

SYNOPSIS: baby i just gotta know how long has this been going on?

NOTES: be nice english isn’t my first language and this is my first work! I personally recommend listening to this song while reading “How long” by Charlie Puth. If you have any thoughts or ideas, I'm waiting for you in the inbox. or just to talk because I'm bored. feel free to do whatever you want x

WARNINGS: smut but not really (maybe some hints, but nothing like that will happen cause i’m not in the right mood), swearing, flirting, kinda friends to enemies to lovers, kissing, harry and reader being stubborn. i think that’s all if you found something else comment please.

“Harry, how do you feel about miss Y/n?”

Harry already knew how to answer. In fact, it had been the first question asked at almost every interview Harry had attended for the past few months. Jeff always said it's good for PR because all the fans are sure you're dating. I mean, isn't it? You flirt with each other on social media, write comments to each other on Instagram and hint at some kind of relationship on Twitter. Sometimes it seemed to him that it was so. You're just playing the game, waiting for the other person to give in and confess their feelings. Harry remembers the first time he mentioned you in an interview talking about celebrity crushes. Fans literally went crazy when they heard your name. For another week, the Internet was buzzing with rumors that the famous singer was dating an actress Y/N.

Of course, he didn't mention your name for nothing. By this point, you've been talking for a few months, almost immediately starting flirting via text. Surprisingly, it never devolved into anything more than just sex jokes.

“I mean she’s an incredible actress, you know? Have you seen her new movie? It’s amazing. I already told her that I wouldn't mind playing with her in the remake of "The Notebook". Personally, I think that we would be perfect for the main roles.” he laughs.

“So we should wait to see your chemistry on screen, am I right?” asks the interviewer and Harry shrugs.

“We’ll see”

“Y/n, please tell us more about Mr. Styles”.

You laugh and playfully roll your eyes. It seems to you that you will never get tired of playing this game. You flirt with each other in public and in private when no one is looking. At the same time, you have never been caught by the paparazzi together somewhere in a restaurant or on vacation. In fact, it's because you never went anywhere together. Harry never asked you out and you didn't have the guts to even ask him out for coffee. You didn't have any contact that required you to play couple in public. Personally, you did it because it was fun. It's fun to read some news about yourself, where you are married or pregnant. It's fun to watch fan speculation that isn't true. It's fun to pretend you don't understand anything at an interview and talk in riddles.

“I have no idea who are you talking about”

“Oh come on! You do know who is Harry Styles. In his last interview he told us that he wants to do a movie with you”

“Ok, I'm just kidding. Harry is a cool actor and singer. He is very talented. Have you seen his latest movies? To be honest, I watched "My Policeman" three times. It's not every day you see Harry shirtless, you know. Therefore, I would also not mind playing in the same movie with Mr. Styles. If anyone is looking for actors for the main roles, give us a call!” you smiled, looking at the people in the hall. Apparently, many of them are fans of your couple, because when they heard the name Harry, they literally went crazy.

What you didn't know was that this innocent game of flirting would turn into a race of hate and love. Both of you will have to come face to face with your fears and anxieties. You will have to learn to live with mistakes and without people with whom you planned your old age. You will have to meet again someone who was once everything to you. And will you be able to say "Goodbye" again?

Patiently waiting for your thoughts

[calciumcryptid]

I know we all talk about Phum and his experiences with his childhoods neglect, but gods does Fang make me eat the drywall because there are so many implications about how it affected him too.

We don't know much about Phum and Fang's elder brother beyond a name and their mother asking Fang about how he has been doing, but I think that says a lot about the family and their connection. An elder brother who, going off the picture, doesn't seem much older than Fang and Phum who probably got out of dodge as soon as he could but in doing so left Fang and Phum alone in that house.

Fang who navigated international lines to talk to his scared crying younger brother and (probably) sent Phum plushies as a substitute for his company, but was only about a year or two older so he didn't realize it could never make up for the real thing.

Fang who knows how to make spaghetti and not much else because sometimes his parents forgot to leave money for groceries/takeout and he has to feed his younger brother because he is the only other parental figure despite being a year or two older and shouldn't have been unsupervised in the kitchen.

Fang who in high school punched his future-boyfriend in the face, because of course he did when he has been nothing but the peacekeeper in his household and a guy has been rude to him and he needs to let go of some of that bitterness and resentment and man doesn't Tan look punchable?

Fang who watched Phum get into fights too and emulate his behavior but he can never be mad at Phum because it isn't his fault no one bothered to check on the rich family's kids. Then Phum would emulate him further when he fell for the kid who kicked him in the nuts, but Fang can't even complain because Peem is the best thing to happen to his little brother.

Fang who went into architecture and keeps his grades up probably because his parents wanted him to go into business and having high grades is the only way to prove that he is doing what is best.

Fang who freaked out when his attentive boyfriend didn't respond to his calls and messages because his worst fears are confirmed and Tan is going to leave him just like his parents just like his elder brother- but Tan never left and continues to be his safe place.

Fang who was set up as the peacekeeper in his family, a bridge between Phum and their parents. Fang still living with their parents and constantly trying to get Phum to play nice because of course Fang is doing that because he wasn't the one abandoned in another country but also he got the bare amounts of attention that kept him strung along for more and to doesn't matter that his parents only seem to ask about his elder brother or his grades or talk about their own work because every once and while they pay attention to him.

Fang who will come to the realization the only love he values is Phum's, Tan's, and his news friends (which his parents didn't even realize he had) and how he will move out into a new place with Tan and cut off contact and it will be hard but it will be worth it because when he is married and adopted two kids and his kids ask about their grandparents on his side he'll give them a small smile and say they passed away decades ago even though he doesn't know if that is true but doesn't care to find out.

[cowgurrrl]

Keep the Wolves Away

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Dedicated to my real life Andies. Thank you for making me feel easy to love.

Summary: The worst decision [5.2k]

Warnings: platonic threatening, discussions of bad mental health, so much flirting that (spoiler alert) might be real, possible THE shittiest ex I ever could've written, all the southern pet names, alcohol consumption, the resurgence of an old nude of readers, gaslighty behavior, smoking cigarettes (don't smoke kids), Joel talking reader out of a spiral, two (2) kisses

"So, it's a date." Andie declares once you're done explaining everything to her over FaceTime. You pause your blush application to roll your eyes at her. 

"It's not a date!"

"I'm sorry, so I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you're going to be just friends with the hot, sweet single dad who sounds like he's head over heels for you?"

"He is not head over heels for me." You sound a little petulant, and Andie laughs like she did when you were in high school and trying to hide a crush from her. 

"Babe, he willingly went on a high school field trip just so he could see you."

"His daughter was there. I'm sure he wanted to spend time with her."

"I'm sure he did because he's a great dad, but he also wanted to see you in your element. It's sexy watching someone do the thing they love." 

"Yeah, yeah." You brush her off, and she scoffs. You toss your makeup brush back into its bag and check out your outfit in the mirror. It's nothing insane— just a plain black slip dress— but now that Joel's arrival is getting closer and closer, you're rethinking everything. "Do I look okay?"

"You look stunning!" Andie chirps. "I'm sure your not boyfriend will think the same thing."

"I'm going to get a plane ticket to Austria just so I can choke you out with my own two hands." You threaten, but she laughs so hard you can't stop smiling. Once the trans-Atlantic giggling dies down, the line goes quiet, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mascara out. 

"Are you nervous to see him?" She asks gently. Andie came home for the summer dubbed The Dark Days. She stayed over when the one-bedroom apartment felt too big and got you out of the house when you couldn't stand the four walls anymore. She took whatever he left behind to his new apartment so you wouldn't have to (and gave him a piece of her mind while she was at it). She made you believe in love again. Not sticky, frustrating, unpredictable romantic love but pure, easy, all-knowing love that can only come from long-enduring relationships such as yours. 

For a long time after he left, you thought you were hard to love. Too loud, too bright, too much. Until you were out at a bar with her one night, trying to find the remnants of your independence and self-esteem tucked under sweaty beers and cracked leather chairs, when someone pointed out how similar you and Andie were. "Like two sides of the same coin," the woman told you. Andie is one of the easiest people in the world to love with her quick wit, creativity, and smile. And you realized for the first time if you had even a shred of that, even if only by dint of knowing and being loved by her, then you must be easy to love too. You must be worth the mess and heartache and stained fingerprints. 

So, yeah, Andie was less than pleased to hear that all that hard work could be undone by seeing him again, but she was supportive. 

"I don't know," you sigh. "I'm not a kid anymore. I've had more years without him than I did with him, but it's still scary."

"I know." 

"I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him."

"He'll probably be too busy with the gallery and everything. Maybe you won't even have to." She says, and you groan at the uncertainty of everything. 

"God, why did I say yes?" You ask as a knock interrupts your whining. You end your call with a quick "I love you, thank you, I'll text you" before throwing your phone down. "Come in!" You yell from the bathroom as you rapidly finish doing your makeup. There's a pause on the other side before he jiggles the knob and finally comes in. "I'm just finishing up in the bathroom. Give me a minute." 

"D'you always leave your door unlocked?" Joel asks. The sound of his unsure footsteps reaches your ears, and you smile at the thought of him looking around your apartment like a lost toddler. 

"Only when I know someone's coming over," you say. "Sorry, it's a mess."

"Oh, this is nothin'. You should see Ellie's room." He says, his feet pacing the floor. You swipe on a cute lipstick you never wear and finally step out into the living room where Joel is waiting. He's wearing a black button-up shirt with nice pants as he stands with his back to you, looking at some of the things on your wall. 

"Well, don't you look nice?" You compliment, making him turn around with a shy smile. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail or sliver of skin he hasn't seen before. His intense gaze reminds you of how he looked at you in the bar when you were sure his eyes would melt you. He looks dumbstruck, and his Adam's apple bobs when his eyes finally settle on your face. 

"Wow… you look-"

"Choose carefully." You tease to take some of the tension out of the room. 

"Beautiful," he says, thwarting your efforts. "You always look beautiful." 

"Thank you. Not so bad yourself." 

"You like it? Ellie helped me pick it out," he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Feels weird." 

"What specifically feels weird?" You ask, stepping closer to him to examine his outfit. He smells like aftershave and the cologne he's prone to wearing. Why the fuck do you have his cologne memorized, you think to yourself. 

"I dunno. I think I just feel outta place." 

"Well, you don't look out of place," you say. "These might be what's doing it, though." You tap the top buttons of his shirt, the ones buttoned all the way up to his chin like a toddler going to Christmas mass. 

"Ellie said I should do all of 'em since it's a fancy art thing."

"Well, you should stop taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old," you laugh. "I promise it's not fancy enough to justify being uncomfortable." 

"I'm takin' your word for it." He says as he reaches up to undo his top two buttons, revealing freckles across his chest and collarbones and the tiniest sliver of a gold chain resting against his throat. For some reason, you can't tear your eyes away from the veins in his neck or the delicate necklace stuck to his warm skin. "What, it really looks that bad?" He thankfully breaks through your thoughts, and you try to recover by shaking your head.

"No, no. Not at all. You look really nice," you say, clearing your throat. "Let me get my purse, and we can go." You don't even wait for him to respond. You just turn on your heels and walk to your bedroom. In the security of your bedroom, you let out a long exhale and try to get your mind back on track. 

You're just nervous. He's being nice. You're being nice back. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing, you mentally chant. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost have to laugh at the fierce blush on your cheeks and the distracted look in your eyes. "You better get it together." You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror like it's gonna do anything to make tonight smoother.

The gallery is packed when you get there. Joel curses under his breath as he tries to find a parking spot, and you try to keep your anxiety at bay. All you have to do is show your face, look at the paintings, and leave. Maybe you can manage to steal a bottle of the cheap wine they're undoubtedly serving. It'll be an hour. Two tops. You can do this. 

You're so in your head that you didn't notice that Joel parked the car or that he was looking at you until he bumped your knee with his. 

"You okay?" He asks. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Just need a second." You mumble. You fiddle with your earrings, your dress, anything to keep your hands busy as you psyche yourself up. 

"When's the last time you saw this asshole?"

"He wasn't always an asshole," you try to redirect, but he raises his eyebrows at you. "Since I graduated college." 

"We don't have to go in." He offers easily, and you give him a look. 

"Yes, we do. My name's on the list and everything." 

"So?" He shrugs. "The world's not gonna end just cause one person didn't show up."

"But you drove all the way here."

"And I can drive you all the way back. Besides, it's nice having a pretty girl in my truck. It wouldn't hurt to have you here next to me for a little while longer." He says, and you laugh, feeling some weight lift off your shoulders.

"You get many pretty girls sitting in your truck?"

"Just my pretty girls." 

"Right." You say, and he smiles, creating familiar crinkles in the corners of his eyes. They look a little deeper in the moonlight, but his eyes shine differently. Your fingers itch to draw them if only to critique your work and find the answer to why he has such an effect on you. You're aware that you're staring, but you also can't find it in yourself to look away. Not when he's staring back at you so fondly. 

"What can I do to help you?" He asks. You feel like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice. You've talked to Ellie about her anxiety, so you know he has some practice in dealing with it, but he's acting like it's second nature. Like this is what he was meant to do. He bumps you again when you start messing with your purse. "Do you want this to be like at the bar? Do you want me to take you home and pretend like we were never here? Do you want me to go in there and crack some skulls? You say the word— any word— and I'll do it for you, darlin'." 

Darlin’. It's what he called you when you promised revenge for almost kissing you at the bar. Normally, you'd be against any form of pet name. Henry was not openly affectionate in that way, and you learned not to expect it from him. But here's Joel, dropping the term of endearment almost every time he's been alone with you. It could be that cowboy accent or his knee pressed against yours, but the nickname fills your chest with warmth and pushes away your anxiety. 

"Any word, huh?" You ask, and he chuckles. 

"My mama raised me not to make promises I didn't have every intention of followin' through on." He says. "What'll it be?"

"I think… I just need you to be there with me." 

"Then, that's what I'll do." 

"Okay." You mumble, and he smiles as a new wave of comfort washes over you. 

"Okay." He says.

"Okay." You take a deep breath and look at him in the driver's seat one more time. "Let's do this." Finally, you open the door and step down from his truck. He's quick to come to your side and offer you his arm before he can even finish locking the car. You smile, tuck your hand under his bicep, and let him keep you upright as you walk in. 

The gallery is full of people who look way more qualified than you— art critics, journalists, and other artists who can actually sell a piece. They barely glance at you and Joel when you breach the doorway, which you're silently grateful for. When a waiter walks by with champagne glasses, Joel quickly snatches two glasses from the tray and hands you one. 

"Here's to us." He says, and you cock an eyebrow at him. 

"Us?"

"Well, we're sure as hell not toastin' to that asshole, are we?" 

"I guess not," you laugh as you clink your glasses together. "To us." You each take a sip, and Joel tries to hide his reaction to the champagne, but you see right through it. "Not your speed?"

"Not at all." He groans as he chokes it down. 

"Don't worry, maverick, we'll get you something else later." You promise and tuck your hand back under his arm as you start walking through the gallery. 

A lot of his newer work resembles his work from college— normal portraits of things like fruits, beds, or people but with unexpected lines of colors lining them like they're vibrating. You even recognize some from your college days. You just never expected them to actually be displayed in this way, not even when you were dating and telling him what a good artist you thought he was. Some have vague titles like "$12" and "Jack," while others are untitled. You can see why it would get taken in by a gallery. There's a very clear skill in how he paints and manipulates everyday objects into something new. It would be impressive if it was interesting. 

Maybe you're just used to the way he paints. Maybe this is exactly what you expected of him. Maybe you thought he would've grown, if not in attitude than, at least, in skill. But it's clear that too many people told him good things about his work, and he saw nothing he needed to change or fix. Somehow, it makes you feel better, not worse, about your own art. 

"So, are these supposed to be good or bad?" Joel whispers to you as you get closer to the next section, and you laugh a little too loudly. The people around you give you nasty looks, but you can't find it in yourself to be sorry.

"Like I said at the museum, I can't tell you that, but…" you glance around to make sure nobody's listening to you. "As someone who saw him make a lot of art, this is definitely not his best."

"Okay, that's what I thought," he says before pointing at a specific part of the painting. "The shape is really weird right there, like he ran outta space or somethin'." You let go of his arm and step between him and the painting, smiling knowingly.

"Did you study for this?" You ask, and he nervously plays with the chain around his neck. 

"I may have… snuck a look at Ellie's notes." He admits sheepishly, and your eyes widen. 

"You were actin' like you were gonna have to rely on me this whole time! You don't need me to tell you what good art is!"

"Yeah, but I want you to." 

"Oh, whatever. C'mon, I wanna hear what else you think." You pretty much drag him to the next section of the gallery, but he's pliant and almost giddy at your hold on him. You take more time in the next part, and he ducks so his lips are near your ear to point out little things he notices. He said he was scared of being wrong in front of people "smarter than him," but all the observations he makes are valid and accurate. He lets you add your own analysis to his and watches you with a smile when you start talking with your hands excitedly. Suddenly, you're not nearly as miserable as you thought you would be, and you're even laughing together as you jump from painting to painting. 

"See, this isn't so bad!" You say as you move to the final part, but your smile and enthusiasm die when you step over the threshold. There, staring at you unashamedly is the painting Henry did of you when you were twenty and topless. He told you it was for his own artistic development, and you were more than happy to do it for him. You just never thought he would've kept it after all these years. Thank God your face isn't visible in the painting, but your rigid posture tells Joel everything he needs to know. He politely turns his back to the painting and steps between you and your likeness. 

"You wanna go?" He whispers at the same time someone calls your name. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand for support as you turn around and face Henry. His wavy blonde hair frames his face like it did in college but he's matured. His beard is a little more filled in, and he's gotten a little broader. Other than that, he's still the same person you met freshman year. 

"I'm so glad you could make it!" He says as he approaches. He doesn't try to hug you, and you don't move to let go of Joel's hand. "You look great. I mean, you always looked great, but you know what I meant," he says, looking over you. Only when Joel clears his throat does Henry even look at him. "Oh, sorry, man! We're old friends. I'm Henry." He holds his hand out for Joel to meet halfway, but he doesn't. You think it probably took fighting every single bit of southern hospitality in his veins to stop himself from shaking Henry's hand.

"'M Joel." He says, and Henry awkwardly drops his hand. 

"Nice to meet you, Joel. How are you enjoying the exhibition?" 

"'S alright." Is all Joel offers, not willing to gas up Henry's ego anymore, and you have to stifle a laugh at the expectant look on Henry's face. "Well, I think we were just goin'."

"Oh, so soon? You haven't even seen the last few pieces."

"Are those any better than the thirty identical ones I already saw?"

"Joel," you scold quietly, and his jaw flexes when you look at him.

"It's okay. Not everyone understands art enough to enjoy it." Henry says. 

"Oh, I understand everythin' just fine." You swear Joel would've punched him if he wasn't holding your hand so tight. You step in between them and raise your eyebrows at Joel. His shoulders are squared, and you can feel the molten anger rolling off him, but it softens just a bit when he meets your eyes. You squeeze him twice to let him know you're okay, and he nods. 

"Can you get me a refill on champagne? I think they're still walkin' around with some." You suggest. He gets the hint, but he obviously doesn't like it. He glances between you and Henry like he's trying to make a decision but folds when you mouth, "please," at him. 

"’Course," he says through gritted teeth. "Anythin' else I can get for you, baby?" Baby, that's a new one, you think. 

"No, I'm alright. Thanks, though." You say. Without thinking, you let your other hand rest on his jaw and kiss Joel's cheek. His jaw unclenches when your fingertips graze his stubble, and his shoulders relax when your lips make contact with his skin, but you know he's still upset because you're still upset. Joel smiles and walks away before you can get a good look at the blush creeping up his neck, and you're resigned to watching him disappear into the crowd. 

"He seems nice," Henry says the second Joel is out of earshot, and you have to resist the urge to laugh. 

"He is." 

"How'd you two meet?"

"Through work." You say, knowing that bringing up teaching will make his skin crawl. He sucks his teeth and nods, the champagne in his glass sloshing slightly.

"Ah," he says. "That's nice."

"Yeah," you agree. An awkward silence falls over the two of you quickly, and you're itching to find Joel in the sea of people. Henry notices your lack of attention on him.

"It's really good to see you," he says. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

"Yeah, that's usually what happens when you leave someone." 

"That's kinda why I invited you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way things ended," he acts brokenhearted and torn up about it, but he's years too late for the pity party he's expecting. "I should've talked to you about what was going on. We were just... becoming so different, and it felt like you were always talking to Andie or other people in the program, and there was no way to reach you."

"What are you talking about? I asked you multiple times if we were okay, and you said yes every time. I was talking to Andie so much because I needed someone who would understand me and be able to help." You say, and he waves his hand like he's swatting flies.

"Let's not do this. My therapist says it's not healthy to rehash the past like this. I just wanted to make amends and let you know I'm sorry for how you felt." It's not an apology. Not a real one, anyway. Jesus Christ, what did you ever see in him? Before you can even open your mouth to say something, he gestures to the gallery. "So, what do you think about all this? Crazy, right?"

"It's... something," you say. "Wish you would've given me a heads up about that one before I brought someone with me." You point in the direction of your half-naked body on the wall, and he gives you a confused look.

"I thought I did in the email." 

"Nope, I think I would've remembered if you said something about a half-naked painting of me from college being displayed," you shake your head. "Why do you even still have that? I thought you would've thrown it away or painted over it or something."

"Why would I do that? It's a good piece."

"I know it's good because it's my body. What's weird is you leaving me without a word one day and then keeping a naked picture of me all these years." 

"I didn't even think of it as your body. After a while, it was just a body," he says with no remorse, and you think you might hit him yourself. "Besides, you should take this as a compliment. Not many women get the opportunity to be depicted as art. It's a wonderful thing. You might even thank me one day when you're older." Finally, you see Joel walking toward you with a glass of champagne, and you take refuge in the fact that he's returning for you. "But, from what I can see, they've definitely stayed the same, so you probably don't have anything to worry about." He says like it's a secret or a compliment. You don't even wait for Joel to say or do anything. You just grab the wine from him and throw it in Henry's face. The people in the immediate vicinity gasp as you slap him and shove the empty glass into his hands. 

"Out of all the stupid things I imagined for myself when I was younger, thinking I would marry you was the stupidest," you spit. "Don't you ever try to fucking contact me again."

You feel like a fucking idiot. What did you expect? An apology? Repentance? Regret? He barely apologized when you were together. Why would he start now? God, was he always that bad? How could you have been so blind? How could you have shed so many tears over him? How could you have let yourself be so vulnerable with him and for so many years? It's a miracle he didn't call the cops and try to get the two of you arrested, even though Joel didn't do anything. You think, at least. The second you finished your sentence, you ran to the bathroom to cry and then snuck out through the back to wait outside Joel's truck. For all you know, Joel (rightfully) beat his ass and is on the run from artsy Austin hipsters. 

You put the lit cigarette back in your mouth and take a long drag, the familiar burning in your lungs a sick relief. You quit during The Dark Days because smoking was something he did, and you wanted to rid yourself of any reminder of his impact on your life. Apparently, at the same time you were scrubbing his fingerprints from your bones, he was in possession of and doing God knows what with the visual reminder of your vulnerability and love-sickness and acted like it was nothing. Like it was a compliment. Like it was just an object instead of your body. Andie would be pissed if she were here but especially if she saw you smoking after she braved all those shaky days and nights of nicotine patches and dried fruit and whatever other remedy recommended to help you quit smoking. You half-expect the same anger when you see Joel walking toward you. 

"Before you even start, I know I shouldn't, okay? It's a bad habit from when I was a kid, and I've mostly kicked it. I just... had a lapse. I'll be back on my best behavior tomorrow," you say as he stops in front of you. He doesn't look angry or upset. He just looks concerned and maybe even a little sad. Suddenly, you regret running away from him when all he probably wanted to do was help. You probably wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from a busboy if you let him. "Don't tell Ellie." You plead. His eyes flick over your face before he takes the cigarette from your fingers, puts the lipstick-stained filter in his own mouth, and inhales deeply, making the ember glow in the dark of the night. When he exhales, he blows the smoke away from you and lets the wind carry it in the opposite direction. A considerate smoker. You should've guessed.

"Don't tell Ellie," he says, handing the cigarette back to you. "Are you okay?"

You shake your head and take a long drag. It's quiet between you two for a while, the only sound being the cicadas and the distant chatter of the gallery. They're probably still talking about the psycho bitch who threw her wine in the artist's face. You don't really care. "I'm sorry for tonight. I don't know what I was expecting, and I sure as shit didn't know that painting was gonna be displayed. I swear, if I had any idea how bad this was gonna be, I wouldn't have invited you." 

"Why are you apologizin'? It's not your fault." 

"I shouldn't have roped you into this. I should've just said no, ignored the email, or came by myself. It's not fair that you got put in the middle of all this, especially when you were just trying to be nice. You're the parent of one of my students, and for you to see that side of me is just inappropriate. I just-" he stops your rambling by putting his hands on your shoulders and making you look at him, the cigarette falling to the pavement in the process. 

"Hey, hey. Stop. Take a breath." He says. Your head hurts from crying, and part of you wants to crawl into a hole and stay there until these feelings go away, but his eyes are gentle, and his hands are warm. You think he might be the only reason you're holding it together right now. "None of this is your fault, okay? Not the painting, not the conversation, none of it. We're both adults, and we can handle these things rationally. I'm not scarred for life just 'cause you lost your temper."

"But I-"

"No, buts. You told me the situation, and I didn't care. You warned me bout the art people, and I didn't care. You threw a drink in that asshole's face, and I didn't care," he says. "The only thing I care bout right now is makin' sure you're okay. Fuck everythin' else." You search his face for anything to tell you what he's telling you is going against his inner monologue but find none. He's completely and wholly concerned about you and nothing else. Not how fast he can get out of this. Not how this might look. Not what other people might think about him. Nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Fuck everything else." You agree. 

"Now, you're gettin' the hang of it." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. He takes it in stride, his smile never fading as he looks down at you. You stop messing with the hem of your dress and let yourself relax for the first time all night.

"Thank you for being here, Joel. I really appreciate it."

"Not our best not-date, but definitely a memorable one." He says, and you laugh. You seem to realize how close you are at the same time because you both fall silent. His curls are beautifully draped over his face, and you can't stop watching his tiny expressions. An eye squint. A purse of the lips. A bite to the inside of his cheek. You want to blame your bad night or the emotions, but you can't. There's something more there. Something that's been brewing beneath the surface since he came into your classroom. Something that will kill you if you don't act on it.

You let your hands come up from your sides and tentatively brush against his waist as you stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at your lips, and the hands on your shoulders slowly move across your skin and up your collarbone— leaving goosebumps in his wake— until his hands are on your jaw and your pulse is thrumming against his palm. You pull him closer by his belt loops, and he doesn't hesitate to crowd your space, pushing you into the side of his truck with his body. His lips ghost over yours, just barely touching, and his nose bumps yours. 

"This is a bad idea," you breathe, tightening your hold on him. He nods and presses his forehead against yours. He's still close enough to breathe the same air as him, but the distance feels like miles. You lean forward a fraction as a test, and he doesn't move. If anything, he seems annoyed you didn't kiss him.

"D'you want to stop?" He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel. You shake your head and swallow hard when he brushes the hair off your shoulder, and you can feel his heavy hand holding you. Your hands skate over his ribs, feeling muscles and a crazed heartbeat, and his jaw clenches. "Then you better do somethin' cause you've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy for weeks." 

Finally, you catch his lips with yours. He tastes like nicotine and smoke, and you know it's going to take a lot more than patches to get you to want to stop doing this. It's gentle and sweet, all relieved sighs and shy touches until you pull away for just a second to second-guess yourself or ask him something. You don't even start to form the words before he's back on you with more fervor. Suddenly, it's like he's everywhere but not nearly close enough. He nibbles at your bottom lip and tests a hand on your sternum, long fingers grazing your throat. The metal of the truck digs into your back, but you stop caring when a little moan slips from his lips when you pull him closer.

This is a bad idea. A horrible one. A bad habit you're gonna need to kick. 

But he might just be your favorite bad idea so far.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

So of course we've all seen the smut where the ghoul eats you out while on your period...... and my question is this...... do you think that is strictly the ghoul thing? Because of the cannibalism? Or did Cooper prewar already have his red wings? He seems the type to do ANYTHING to make his girl feel better if you catch my drift. Just a thought 😂🤭

It's absolutely not just a cannibalism-related thing; while, ironically, I don't really see Prewar!Cooper Howard as someone who would really enjoy the iron-heavy taste of blood/very rare meat/game-type meat all that much, you are 110% correct in saying that he would do anything to make his partner feel better.

Plus, he's just a munch in general. If he wants to eat pussy, he wants to eat pussy now, not in 4-7 days. It being a little medium-rare doesn't bother him at all.

I didn't intend for this to end up this long. I just sat down to answer this ask real quick and suddenly I had like 2,500 words. I guess you could call it a spiritual prequel to "Bloodletting".

There are a lot of things you don't enjoy about being a person who menstruates. There are also a lot of things you don't enjoy about living in California, namely the summers with their unforgiving heat and brain-frying sun.

Menstruation in the California summer is downright unfair.

After a long day of enduring your body's seemingly intense resentment towards you, you feel disgusting when you finally make it to the home you share with your fiance and immediately drag yourself into a scalding hot shower. Cooper often likes to joke that you're trying to boil yourself in there, playfully chastise that it isn't good for your skin, but the way the heat seeps into your sore muscles is like a siren's call. Once the tap runs cold, you begrudgingly dry yourself, pulling your damp hair up and away from your neck and shoulders before rummaging through the medicine cabinet for something to hopefully ease the ache in your cramping abdominal muscles.

Too tired and sore to worry about scrounging up any food, you throw your still lightly-damp, nude body into your unmade bed and pull the top sheet around you. Normally, the thing would be nicely made before you left the house for the day, but since Cooper left long before you and it fell to you to do the making today, it simply hadn't happened. Cranky, you offer the sleeping dog curled up at the foot a few scratches on his sweet head before closing your eyes and getting in a short, fitful nap.

The familiar jangle of Cooper's keys in the front lock tugs you out of the dreamless void you'd fallen into at some point, and you smile briefly as you hear Roosevelt scuttle off from where he'd been watching over you towards the door. After a moment, you can hear the garbled greetings the older man gives his furry companion, the first step in his homecoming routine, with which you are now intimately familiar. The next step is to shed his boots and jacket, then to drop his keys and the mail on the small table inside the door.

"Honey?" he calls, footsteps moving your way. The two of you spoke on the phone around lunch and he had received a rather generous earful of your complaints.

"I'm here." you respond, turning to face the ceiling groggily as he enters.

"My poor sugar." he laments, the mattress sinking on one side as he sits down beside you, one warm hand patting your back sympathetically. Roosevelt sits briefly beside the bed, watching you curiously, but Cooper dismisses him to his bed in the living room softly, and the dog obeys quietly. "I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick. Can I get you something to take first? Or the hot water bottle, maybe?"

"I already took something, I'm just waiting for it to kick in." you reply, eyes closed as you try to soothe your abdominals with the warmth of your bare hands. "I would take the hot water bottle if you're offering, though."

You cuddle the warm sack of rubber he fetches for you, holding it snug against your stomach under the top sheet as you listen to the sounds of him quickly hopping into and out of the shower. When he emerges, you can see a faint amount of steam seep into the bedroom, as opposed to the thick clouds that typically roll out when you're finished.

"Feeling any better, sweetheart?" he asks, leaning down to kiss at your bare shoulder.

"Eh, sort of." you respond, smiling at the feeling of his lips on your back. The tickling feeling combined with the smell of his body wash encompassing you makes you clench a little, which both fans the low-burning coals in your gut that always smoulder around him and makes another cramp rip through you, sending you whining.

"Aww, poor thing." he coos, petting at your leg and knee. "Did you try anything else?"

"The stuff I took earlier is working okay, and the water bottle is nice." you say, setting the thing aside as you sit up to look at him. There's just a touch more white in the salt-and-pepper of his sideburns now than there was when you originally met him, but you find it very appealing. "I just wish everything wasn't so tight and tense, you know?"

"I hear you." he says, lips moving along your forehead. "I could try making you feel better, if you'd let me."

You chuckle in response, tossing yourself down flat in a dramatic display of exhaustion.

"If you can figure out how, be my guest."

Your words bring a massive grin to his face, and suddenly he's planted himself down between your knees, hands running along your inner thighs and rapidly up towards your mound.

"Cooper, what're you--" you begin, but he cuts you off with a gentle shushing and a light massage to your tight thigh muscles.

"Just lie back and let me help you." he says, lying down flat with his shoulders right even with your knees. He peppers kisses from your navel, down the little trail of soft, downy hair that leads to your mons before ghosting his lips back and forth, back and forth across the skin. It raises goosebumps on your skin almost instantly in anticipation.

"Honey." you huff as another cramp balls up in your middle at the sensation. "Don't tease."

"M'sorry, my girl." he apologizes. "I'll make it better."

Only a moment later, you're crying out as he spreads you open gently with his hands and finds your aching little bud with the tip of his tongue. He doesn't like rare meat all that much, from what you've seen, so you're not sure how crazy he is about the taste of blood, but he doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue fully along your wet, sensitive slit, using the wriggling muscle to worship every inch of you until your vision is full of stars.

The tension in your abdomen increases as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm, your legs quickly moving up to wrap around his head of their own accord, holding him tight in place with his lips and tongue against your clit. Eventually, you feel his fingers gently swiping around your entrance, and the gasp that leaves you when he slips two of them inside of you is echoed by a low groan from your partner. Your hands are knotted tight in the disheveled sheets, your hips bucking and grinding against Cooper's face like they have a mind of their own.

The rhythm he's playing against your bud increases as you whine and cry out his name again, and by the time he's made you cum for the third time, he's visibly grinding his hips against the mattress, licking and sucking at your skin until you tug on his hair for mercy.

His lips and chin are streaked in scarlet as he pulls himself back up, grinning down at you as he pivots to settle on his hip beside you, his warm, softly calloused hand hand still stroking your thigh lovingly as you ride out your last few scant shivers.

"Feel any better now?" he asks as he takes in your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. You roll your eyes playfully, kicking softly in his direction, only to be undercut by him seizing your foot in his hand and peppering it with kisses, making you squeal with laughter.

"Alright, I feel a lot better." you admit when you finally calm down. You sit up a ways, nuzzling beneath his chin, planting wet kisses there and feeling him shiver in response. "But I still think you should have to split these stupid things with me. Or find a way to stop them, maybe. Write some scientists a check or something."

"Oh, I can stop them, sweetheart." he says bawdily, tucking his chin to tease your throat with his tongue as your hand moves to rest on his cheek. "For about a year, a least."

The hand resting on his cheek moves to the back of his head, threading into the thick, dark hair there and gently pressing there to usher him down towards you until your lips meet once more. He knows this is a hot button for both of you, and you want to chastise him for being such a tease. However, your mind is too foggy.

As he leans further towards you, tongue pushing deeper into your mouth, your hand is finally able to find what it's been seeking. His erection is already throbbing in your grip as you stroke him through his boxers, a groan seeping through his nostrils as he pulls back from your kiss. Despite this, you hook your leg around his hip the best you can, attempting to tug him back down between your legs.

"Coop." you whisper, pushing your hips at his.

"You don't have to do that, sweetheart." he says, eyes clenched as tight as his sudden grip on the bed sheets curled around his left hand. You know he wants to fuck you, that he needs to cum after everything he's given you; the evidence is in your hand. However, you also know he'll deny himself for your sake.

"Let me take care of you." you whisper, lips tracing along his throat as your hand continues to work him, concentrating your movements towards the tip and earning a genuine whimper from him. The throaty, vulnerable sound from him makes your entire gut clench, and your lips latch onto his stubbly throat, your tongue lathing his freshly bathed skin.

"I took care of you because I wanted to help you feel better. I don't need anything in return." he replies, his voice low and quiet as he strains to keep it even.

"I want you to feel better, too."

Your hand is fully stroking him again, and by the time you notice the growing wet spot near your hand, he's leaning down and forcing his tongue back into your mouth, sighing contently as he pulls himself back between your legs. One hand softly kneads your left breast, his weight balanced on his elbow and knee as he works his shorts down, kicking them off the foot of the bed absentmindedly.

A subconscious sigh leaves you as you drink in the sight of him, his leaking cock laying, flushed red and painfully hard, against his toned stomach. Trying your best to ignore the way he smirks at you, easy as you wrap your legs around his hips, his hand moving between you to guide himself teasingly along your entrance. You sigh his name when the head of him finally catches and sinks fluidly into your warmth.

Your tense pelvic muscles ache in protest for a passing moment as they adjust to him, to his weight pressing into you, but as you breathe deep, the stretch eases away some of the strain, leaving you sighing with relief as he begins to gently fuck you.

He's soft and slow to begin with, watching your face closely as you adjust to him, burying his face in your neck and latching onto it with his lips as you finally take him to the hilt.

"Oh, Cooper." you sigh, gripping hard at his shoulders as you grind your clit against his pubic bone, the soft texture of his pubic hair adding to the mountain of sensations he's making you experience. "I needed this so bad."

Your admission seems to only fuel him, groaning as his fingers move to strum at your clit again, pressing practiced circles around the swollen little nub just like you'd shown him to do. The rough feeling of the small callous he has on his trigger finger drives you absolutely mad with pleasure, making you tighten around him as you cry out.

"Fuck, baby, I've been thinking about this all day." he confesses in a low, hushed tone as his hips continue to slap against yours, still mindful of where his weight is placed over you, but growing steadily more forceful in his movements. Soon, he has you built up into a sweaty mess, crying out for more of his touch, more of him in general as he holds your hips tight.

"I'm gonna cum, Coop." you pant, face red hot and damp as the rest of you as he continues to work back and forth between your thighs. The sudden feeling of his white teeth, sharp and strong, digging into the crook of your neck makes you whimper, and the sound seems to teleport him right to the exact same spot you're in.

"Shit, me too." he hisses, lips and tongue still attacking your neck as his hips quickly lose their rhythm, driving hard into you once, twice, three more times before he pulls back and shoots his load all over your soft stomach, growling like a wild animal as jet after jet of thick, sticky cum coats your flushed skin.

Once you've both come down from your high, you wiping pitifully at your sweaty face as he extracts himself from you as gently as possible, hand threading through his damp hair, you both chuckle, lying on your sides facing one another at the foot of the bed, catching your breaths. He grabs for your hand like he always does after you make love, holding it snug in the palm of his own as you bask in the afterglow.

The only difference now is that there's an engagement ring on your hand for him to play with. Seeing it on you seems to make him swell with pride, and that makes you feel warm inside.

"How does a nice, hot bath and some takeout sound?" he asks eventually, running his lips along your forehead as his hands massage at your lower back.

"Sounds amazing." you smirk, pulling back a few inches to look at him mischievously. "But I already had a super long, hot shower when I got home. Is double dipping allowed?"

Smirking at your coy playfulness, he pulls you up into his lap and snug against his chest, both of you wincing slightly at the slick, wet feeling of the mess all over both of your stomachs. The man never fails to produce quite a bit.

"Normally, I'd say no." he fires back matter-of-factually. "But considering the circumstances, I'll allow it this one time."

"You did make quite the mess." you chastise, but your words are quickly interrupted by him quickly snatching you up, hefting you into the air as he takes a moment to balance you both before making his way into the en suite bathroom.

"Well, one could argue that the mess is at least partially your fault, but I'm willing to take responsibility for my part and help tidy you up." he chuckles as he carries you towards the tub. "I'm very thorough in my cleaning."

"Promise?" you chuckle suggestively.

"Promise." he winks.

[lowkeyrobin]

headcannons where quackity's s/o has tattoos? could also be nsfw, if you're comfortable with it :))

I don't write NSFW but I can definitely do the tattoo part! thanks for requesting!! I don't think I've actually posted a quackity focused thing yet which is surprising to me bc I have like 3 drafts for him LMAO

QUACKITY ; tattooed lover

summary ; you have tattoos and your boyfriend is head over heels

warnings ; language; talk of needles / pain of tattoos, use of quackitys real name (lmk if I should change it!)

word count ; 670

genre ; fluff

masterlist

In general, he'll act normal about all your tattoos and whatnot, but inside every time he sees your arms (especially if you have sleeves or some sick ones around your wrists that trail up your arm even a bit) he'll just get a little red in the cheeks. He absolutely loves all your ink. He thinks it's so sick, but he's not committed enough to get any, and he doesn't think he has the pain tolerance.

he went with you to get a new tattoo on your shoulder/upper arm area

he learned you'd be there for like 5 hours and he groaned like a shitty iPad kid and took his phone out while he threatened to call Philza

once he saw the tattoo gun... oh lord it was over

literally whisper shouted at you while the artist got up to get gloves

"that's what you're getting jabbed with??? why are we here again???"

genuinely can't look

once he hears the buzzing he turns his music on and he's staring down while he sits on the couch across from you

"Alex, look!" you smile, "I'm fine"

"how do I know you're not a clone?"

"Holy shit. dude it's the quackityhq duck, that's why I brought you along"

"WAIT WHAT?"

it's not a big tattoo whatsoever, but it's a reminder that he's always with you, how you've grown together and how that's always going to be an era of your content you'd never forget about

literally gets emotional about it

"You didn't have-"

"I wanted to, for the millionth time"

he genuinely didn't know tattoos were so expensive, once you leave he questions why it was 450 dollars and you explain to him how tattoo artist income works

He's not the one to want to peel off the second skin or pop the ink bubbles or even touch the tattoo until the skin goes back to normal. He's just kinda freaked out for some reason, it's just one of those things and it honestly makes sense.

He takes some dedicated time to sniff all the lotions and numbing creams and comment on each and every one, though. All while you're trying to do some aftercare on it and shit, and you just watch.

"this one smells like buttercream icing"

"yeah?"

"ew, this one smells like badboyhalo's ass!"

"why would you even know that? 😁"

If you have any tats without color, Alex will gladly color them in with washable markers like you're a walking coloring book. He'll literally call for you and ask you if he can color on you again, it's cute, really.

"y/n/n, can I color your tattoos again?"

"aren't you streaming?"

"so?"

"yeah, fine"

he has a whole gallon sized ziploc bag filled with Crayola washable markers

like he goes from playing on the qsmp and hanging out with some people to coloring all over you while said people watch 😭

you wave to his friends like "Hello, I am his walking therapy coloring book"

he's like a little kid. You just look over at him like, "Holy shit I could love you forever wtf"

Sometimes, he'll just draw you new tattoos (with washable markers dw) cause he gets bored and wants to doodle on you. Most of the time it ends up being stick figures and dicks but it's okay, it's his way of showing affection.

He'll genuinely think of song that remind him of each of your tattoos. Somehow, some way, he does. He has a whole playlist titled 'Y/n's tattoos', and he rarely listens to it, but he thinks it's fun to think of a new song when you get another tattoo.

Although he is a little concerned because what's gonna happen when you're old and wrinkly? How do the tattoos last? Do they become old and wrinkly like the tattooed grandmas meme? Because if so, he'll rip on you til the end of time.

"well I have a long time before I look like a tattooed elderly person, but okay"

"So you will? Oh my fucking God! BAHAHAHA"

[ageingfangirl2]

Surprise Me! Mihawk (OPLA)

y/n is a new assassin who catches the eye of Mihawk. She thinks her past is private but the warlord knows a lot about her and wants to talk. Part 2 to Fight Someone Your Own Size.

Part 1

Y/N

After your encounter with the warlord Dracule Mihawk, you decided to skip town. He had an infamous reputation and it wasn't wise to get on his radar for good or bad reasons. You had a past, a bloody past that led you to skip from town to town until you landed in the last town and actually felt safe until those stupid guys had to attack you in the alley. You were a trained killer, a fresh one at that, which is how you garnered a leave me alone kind of reputation. The reason you never settled down was the fear of being hunted down for what you did.

You were an orphan, a scrappy one at that, fast and light-fingered, which is how you gained the attention of your former master. He took you in when you were ten, housed and fed you, training you to kill those who wronged others while giving you an education you wouldn't have gotten on the streets. You owed him everything, but you couldn't give him everything he wanted.

If anyone did come looking for you those men from the alley knew your face, it was a rookie move leaving them alive, you had to go back. They wouldn't sell out Mihawk, no one would believe them but they would throw you under a cart to save their own skin.

You return to town at night, grabbing your knives and scouting each of the men's homes. It was simple after that, breaking in and killing each of them with a single sliced throat. Now you could leave town without fear of being exposed.

However, that was really short-lived as you're stopped in your tracks by a familiar voice that sent shivers down your spine, 'huh...'

You gulp and dare to look up from his bare chest to meet his piercing eyes, '...what?'

He watches you intensely, like a rabbit he had caught in a trap and wasn't sure what to do with it next, 'nothing, I just didn't know you had that in you. You also don't seem like the type to come back to the same town twice y/n.'

This makes you laugh, 'the fact you think you know anything about me at all, is genuinely hilarious.'

You go to step around him but he continues to block your path, 'your real name is y/n l/n, your parents died in a house fire when you were five but it wasn't an accident. Your father abused your mother and she snapped when he forced himself onto you so set the fire. You lived on the streets for five years before being taken in at age ten by a man calling himself David. And for the next eight years, he made you into a killer. But now he's dead and you're all alone again,' he lists off your life story blankly.

Your hand goes for a knife, 'you knew David? Are you going to kill me because I killed him?'

'You think you killed him y/n? What do you remember?' Mihawk asks, intrigued by you.

'Before you saved me in that alley I've seen your face before but I can't remember where. Do I know you?' you answer his question with your own question.

Mihawk inhales loudly, clearly annoyed that you weren't answering him, 'I like people to follow my orders. When I ask you a question you'll answer. But I'll let it slip just this once y/n, now tell me about that night.'

You click your tongue and bow your head, 'not much, it's all a bit of a blur. He tried to come onto me and I must have snapped remembering my father because next thing I know he's dead.'

You shudder, remembering vividly the night David put his hands on you and got angry when you refused. If you didn't submit to him he was going to kill you, so you had to fight back.

MIHAWK

I do the unthinkable and pull y/n into me watching the wheels turn in their head, 'we met briefly when you were eleven, I was curious what David saw in you. We then met for a second time when you were eighteen. I believe men should show honour and respect women, so when I saw him on top of you I killed him, you passed out and I left.'

y/n looks up at me, and through their emotions, I see further, I see hunger and drive, 'what happens now Mihawk?'

'You're still not ready to be out on your own so you're coming with me and I'll finish your training. You don't have any say in the matter because now you owe me your life,' I state, and y/n nods.

y/n then motions around them, 'any more loose ends to tie up?'

I shake my head, 'All taken care of, now let's go.'

I place my hand on y/n's back and guide them into the shadows. They continued to surprise me, and with my training, everyone was going to fear them.

[starry-nights-garden]

K ✧ Too Tall

✧ &Team K x gn!reader ✧ words: ~900 ✧ genre: fluff, humor (reader is a bit shy, reader is significantly shorter than him) ✧ warnings: none

Desc.: You're mad at your boyfriend for being too tall to give him surprise kisses.

"You're too tall."

"Huh?" Your boyfriend, caught completely off guard by your comment, turns around to give you a highly confused look. And then as soon as he sees your offended expression, a soft laugh escapes him. With a jerk of his eyebrow he walks over to you from the other side of the living room, fists placed on his sides, and as he puffs out his chest he asks, "Why? Cause you can't reach me?"

"Yeah..." you grumble a response, slightly annoyed with his demeanor, but when he shows you a boyish grin next second, you just don't find it in you to stay upset.

"That's too bad..." Yudai says, now capturing his own chin between his thumb and index finger of one hand, as if he was seriously pondering on the matter. You know he's not. You know he's messing with you like he so often does, and you know it's no more than playful banter. Still, as you glance up at his face that's just out of reach, you feel frustrated again.

"Forget it..." you mutter eventually, turning on your heels in order to walk away. "This is stupid anyway."

"What is?" Your boyfriend is quick to respond, and when you've taken a few steps in the opposite direction you bite your lip, deciding to gather the courage to say it anyway.

"Just... you're tall so it's... complicated..."

"What?" you hear Yudai snort behind you, not quite following you.

"Your height!" 

"I got that, yeah."

"Like..." You turn back around, the flustered expression on your face making him raise his eyebrows. It's clear he can't accurately estimate the seriousness of the situation, and as he tenses up slightly, straightening his back you remind yourself to relax. "Like... you know... when you just steal a kiss from me or stuff like that..."

"Yeah?" Another short laugh escapes him, and he raises the corners of his mouth into a lopsided grin.

"I can't do that to you whenever I want... and that's..."

"Too bad?" he finishes your sentence.

"Annoying," you correct him. 

"...that's it?" he then asks. "That's what you got so worked up over?"

"Yeah..." you quietly respond, avoiding to look him in the eye because you find that you are highly embarrassed over being upset because of such an insignificant thing after all. However, Yudai walks over to you, and when he's standing right in front of you he leans down so he's now on eye level with you. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, he starts talking again.

"Then we're just gonna have to make up some sort of signal for when you need me to lean in real quick so you can kiss me." Your face heating up at his ridiculous suggestion, you stutter an answer,

"Th-that's stupid!" And while keeping your voice down, you add, somewhat shyly, "Also it's not gonna be a surprise like that..."

"I'll act surprised?" he retorts.

"That's not the same!"

"Try it! I can make it seem very realistic - I'm a good actor!" Yudai insists.

"But-"

"Are you trying to tell me you're questioning my acting skills?"

"It's not satisfying if you're acting! Forget it..."

"Y/N..." he calls out your name as he's standing up straight again. "I think you're failing to consider one option here..."

"Wh-what?" you stammer, your embarrassment about to take you out right then and there. "Can we just end this already? I know it's stupid..."

"It's not stupid... come here." You watch as your boyfriends pulls over one of the chairs by the dinner table, patting it once to signal to you what he wants. Slightly confused, you take a step towards him, and with him holding your hand for support, he assists you in stepping up onto the chair. Once you're in position, now significantly taller than your boyfriend, he places his other hand onto your waist so as to steady you.

"So...?" you ask, still not being able to connect the dots and figure out what the point of all this is. And then, catching you completely off guard, Yudai lets go of your hand, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt instead and pulling you down towards him, his lips smashing against yours somewhat ungently. Your heart skips a beat at his action, and you grab onto his wrist instinctively as he kisses you. Quite in contrast to the initial impact, his lips are moving against yours at a slow pace. There's the faint taste of vanilla from the chapstick he uses these days, mixed in with the sweetness of his warm kiss, and when he finally releases you, you both have to catch your breath for a few moments.

"This," he says, barely an inch apart from you. "You can always do that when you wanna surprise me with a kiss."

"Right..." You words are merely coming out as a whisper. "I didn't... think of that..."

"And besides..." your boyfriend adds, "that's gonna make my heart race like crazy." You nod, telling yourself to remember that piece of information properly, but when he closes the distance between you two again your train of thought is cut off instantly. His lips melting against yours leaves you unable to think, and so you simply wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers of one hand combing through the short hair at the back of his neck as he continues kissing you.

[verysium]

『02』 原神: genshin impact recs

魈: xiao

preta by @itoshisoup

"People think that ghosts are born exclusively of resentment, but they can also be born of love. Between those driven by resentment and those driven by love, which do you think cling most strongly to their suffering?" Xiao replies without pause, his gaze unfocused yet fixed upon something you cannot see. "Love." After a yaksha saves your life on the Plains of Guili, you insist on joining him in his war against the evils of Liyue. As the two of you encounter hungry ghosts and resentful spirits, you learn about the ones haunting him. notes: incomplete but intricately woven together; heavy emphasis on chinese culture, wuxia/xianxia genres; if you have watched any historical cdrama, you will like this fic; xingqiu and chongyun are wrapped up into the dynamic; xiao wishes to protect you for centuries; him and his paradoxes; not being strong enough to be considered invincible but still strong enough to try

公子: childe

thin ice by @falconcoast

childe is that senior frat boy on teyvat university���s campus. the one who majors in economics because he’s on scholarship to play sports. the one who is way too loud and you can hear him all the way across campus. the one who’s daddy’s money rich because he’s already sponsored, even while just in the ncaa. the one who manages to get everyone to swoon over him.  oh, right. and your favorite title for him: the one hockey captain who hogs all of your free time to skate after lessons because he always steals it.  all you want to do is do your job and teach skating lessons to the kids to keep your mind off the year-old mess with your figure skating, maybe even get an hour of skating in afterwards as a reward. that is, until the hockey coach sits you down and tells you that surprise! you’re the new team manager for liyue’s hockey team! ...it can’t be that hard to manage twenty or so boys and their captain, childe, right? spoilers: it absolutely is.  notes: wonderfully curated modern skating/hockey AU; childe is so american white boy in this; teucer being adorable; diluc and kaeya sibling dynamic is well-established; university and post-grad plans; figuring out your life and then working other people into it

国崩: scaramouche

tea screen by @after-witch

The trembling voice of the tea apprentice carries through the room, and though you can’t see him, you imagine he must be shaking. Who wouldn’t be, tasked with gaining the approval from the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbringers?  notes: forced marriage and abuse; tea ceremony; sort of reminds me of the edo period; examination of womanhood within a patriarchal society; sexy, sad, and scary all at once; i pity the reader at the end; cycle of love and violence

a simple cup of tea by @after-witch

You have to be prepared and poised and perfect. But it’s hard to be all those things, even with the looming threat of your husband sitting next to you, when you’ve got a secret hidden underneath your clothes... notes: reader grapples with lust and objectification; unhealthy dynamic but portrayed realistically in an almost historical setting; reader is unable to separate her identity as wife apart from her husband; women being defined in the context of men; could be a social satire on traditional gender roles if you squint

love is a dog from hell by @itoshisoup

"A will is something you don't have. That's why you'll follow mine." notes: this fic is the reason why i do not think the concept of ownership in love would translate well into real life because it would be so self-destructive; reader struggles with aftermath of abuse and mistakes possession for protection; realistic depiction of unhealthy relationships; the fatui is exactly the dark criminal organization it is supposed to be; human trafficking and child sexual abuse; scaramouche is so goddamn funny i can't

钟离: zhongli

spoil of war by @bye-bye-sunbird

In the dead of night, you hear the sea calling your name. Sometimes the sound is as soft as a love song, gracing your skin in a gentle breeze that lures you to the seashore where the waves can finally lay claim on you. Other times, the sea strikes the land in a deafening, challenging roar. "Really now... How long do you think those mountains of his will stand in my way?" notes: accurate depiction of characters because archon war morax was genuinely terrifying; zhongli trying to deny his obsessive tendencies; rivalry with osial; reader is essentially sanctified as a symbol of innocent purity; imagine having two spiritual gods pine after you while you are helplessly stuck in the middle of their tug-of-war and simultaneously trying to mourn; that is basically the entire premise of this fic

迪卢克: diluc ragnvindr

the parent trap by @falconcoast

twelve years ago, you got married to a man who had swept you off your feet in a little under two years. diluc was like a prince out a of storybook; effortlessly charming, strikingly handsome, and a kind man. you were supposed to live happily ever after at that winery, running a wedding planning empire, having a family, and growing old together.  until it all goes off script with a divorce. flash forward, and the only remnant of diluc that is with you is your daughter, dawn. the only piece of you that remains with diluc is your other daughter and dawn’s twin sister, phoenix.  it isn’t until both of your children get you and your ex-husband in a bit of mess that you realize that maybe, just maybe, you still harbor feelings for diluc.  or maybe it’s the wine talking. notes: one of my favorite comfort fics; i am a sucker for second-chance romance; diluc and reader now older but still being the same bumbling idiots they were when young; at this point the children have more situational awareness than them; based on the original movie; treat yourself to a cup of tea and a friday night with this work and trust me life will be good

博士: il dottore

deus in absentia by @bound-in-parchment

The first time was a coincidence. The second time was a fluke. But the third time? You were starting to think it was fate. Or, more likely, a calculated trap. notes: at this point we can just scrap whatever mihoyo puts out and use this work as canon instead; the world building is so originally creative; this author must possess such a giant sexy brain; reader is basically adopted by dottore and forced to be his apprentice/assistant; idea of losing yourself to your own ambitions; slow-burn to the max; reader is oblivious to full extent of feelings until it is too late; tragic to the point i need a time machine to resurrect them

dream a little of me by @bound-in-parchment

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. notes: soulmate trope but with the two most aromantic fools to ever exist; zandik drowns himself in the river of denial; comic dynamic between segments; music and failed dreams; reader actually has a backstory dark enough to match dottore's character; does not shy away from the uncomfortable and gritty aspects of trauma, abuse, and literal mental insanity

chemistry / magnum opus by @jessamine-rose

In the realm of science, love and insanity are closely intertwined mysteries. Disillusioned with the world, you had long forgotten its beauty until the wise doctor gives you a change of perspective. notes: by far the most accurate characterization of akademiya zandik; he hates you then hates himself then hates the world for allowing your paths to cross; treats you as an objective experiment but then wonders why he's suddenly humanizing you; slow-burn; zandik is selfish and machiavellian and somehow you fit into that equation

the only hope i had was the freedom of death by your hands that held me together by @tiens-letters

It was a burden. The weight of the power you hold in all the land. Any human who has enough ambition would dare to covet it and any god even given divine powers would lust after it. You were powerful, able to end civilizations and make a new world altogether. Many would think that you are a sovereign being but you too are limited to mortality than what most would believe. You were human with a blessing of a god and you felt cursed and dirty. notes: honestly the ending made me so mad but take it as a good sign; basically entails the circumstances that would drive dottore to become somewhat capable of love; what is done cannot be undone; zandik finally meeting someone who is wiser and more depressed than him; deluding himself into thinking he could ever be domestically normal; somewhat idolizes/idealizes reader; themes of betrayal and misunderstanding

富者: pantalone

house cat / alea iacta est by @jessamine-rose

Your entire life has been a gilded cage. The gods refuse to grant your greatest wish, and so you have resigned yourself to the will of destiny. But what happens when the red string of fate is severed and replaced with the silver chains of the Regrator? notes: liyue nobility; dishonest business and financial deals; reader is a cat hybrid but i didn't notice until part two because the plot was so good; pantalone is the mastermind behind all his interactions with reader; heavy manipulation and orchestrations; wolf in sheep's clothing; alternate ending found here

隊長: il capitano

herbarium / fairytale / forget-me-not / astilbe by @jessamine-rose

You had long given up on wishes and happy endings. After what you believed to be the end of your tragic story, you resigned yourself to a shadow of a life with only your books and flowers to keep you company…until the vestiges of Windblume brought forth a mysterious stranger and a new ending for your dark fairytale. notes: capitano being the strong stoic protector of a delicately fragile reader; manipulation is so subtle and that is what makes it alarming; somewhat stirred my daddy issues because he is so parental; reader struggles between accepting his love versus hating him for taking away her personal agency; flower motifs