#and now they are going on another trip together!

[lambiconic]

a coffee shop confrontation

in case you haven't.. you should read the first four!: simon , gaz , johnny , price , the aftermath

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

The sun is low, casting warm golden light through the front windows as the café finally begins to slow down. Just a handful of customers,thirty minutes left until closing, and you behind the counter, wiping down surfaces and counting the minutes.

You haven’t seen any of your usuals today. No familiar grins, no cheeky orders or even Simon’s hard stare and silence. It’s been...quiet. Oddly so. Almost…suspiciously so.

You tried to shake off the feeling as you continued to clean behind the register. Your back to the door as you hear the bell above it chime. Once. Twice. Then a third time. And finally a fourth.

“Welcome! Give me just a second!” You call out to the customers, forcing a smile on your face. At least four people 10 minutes til closing? What ASSHOLES, do people even think to check when stores close before coming?

You stand up straight, wiping your hands on your pants as you lift your gaze and freeze.

Johnny, Gaz, Simon, and Price. All four at the same time, honestly it would feel like Christmas if they weren’t staring at you like this was an intervention. 

You blink, offering a cautious smile as you look between the men. “Uh… hi? The..usual..s?”

Johnny was the first to step forward, another bouquet of fresh flowers in hand. Despite the other three men reminding him what this trip was for he insisted he couldn’t arrive empty handed! (Definitely not so that if you feel you have to make a decision you’d pick him.)

“Hey, bonnie,” he starts, voice unusually tight. “Got a minute?”

You could feel knots in your stomach as you offered a small nod. Clearly, you’re in trouble. “...Sure?”

The men exchange looks before approaching the counter together, like they’d rehearsed this in the parking lot. Gaz clears his throat.  “Okay, so just going to get straight to it. We’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“A situation,” you repeat, crossing your arms.

“A situation.” The men parrot. 

Price folded his arms behind him, watching like this was some kind of disciplinary hearing. “It’s  come to our attention,” he said carefully, “that you’ve been... spreading the charm around.”

“Spreading..the charm.” You say carefully, fighting the urge to grin. 

Johnny leaned forward on the counter, eyes narrowed in playful accusation. “Ye been flirting, lass. With all of us.”

Simon raises an eyebrow, arms folded. “Don’t act like you don’t know. You’ve got us wrapped around your little apron string.”

They keep at it. Questions, teasing accusations, pointed smirks that blur the line between confrontation and flirtation. Simon’s practically hanging off the counter, demanding to know which wink meant something. Gaz is staring into the cup of tea you offered him, grinning because you remembered what he likes. Johnny won’t stop holding those flowers in your line of sight. And somehow, Price has taken it upon himself to help you stack chairs like he’s the assistant manager now.

And as you flip the “CLOSED” sign and start dimming the lights, one thought keeps circling in your head:

What exactly did you do wrong?

Because the reality of the situation is: you didn’t chase any of them. They came to you. One after the other. Different days. Different energy. You flirted, sure, but you flirt with half the customers that walk in!! It's called good service. You didn’t give them keys to your apartment. You didn’t propose via a note on a cup!!!

Your brows furrow as you wipe down the last table, side-eyeing them still hovering. 

Four separate men. All of them DEATHLY attractive in entirely different, annoyingly effective ways. None of them bothered to mention they were friends, coworkers, whatever the hell they are!!! In fact, it seems to you that they didn't even know they were all regulars here! And now you’re the one being interrogated like a war criminal?

You pause mid-wipe.

“I didn’t even do anything wrong,” you say aloud, mostly to yourself.

Gaz glances up from where he’s fiddling with a sugar packet. “Sorry, what was that?”

You place the rag down and turn to them, arms crossing. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Y'all are coming at me like I led a coordinated mission to seduce you all.”

Gaz opens his mouth. Closes it. Then says, “I mean... you did kind of—”

“I flirted.” You quickly interrupt, “Like a normal person! With guys who displayed interest in me FIRST.”

Johnny holds up a finger. “But ye flirted with us. Like, all of us.”

“And how was I supposed to know you were a.. group? Unit? A gaggle?” you snap, gesturing at them. “What are you, some kind of... handsome avengers?”

Simon lets out the quietest snort you've ever heard, quickly turning around to fake a cough.

Price clears his throat. “141, actually.”

Your eyes narrow. “Is that your fantasy football team or a boy band?”

“Its an elite ta—” Price quickly cuts Johnny off with a glare and an elbow. “We’re...we work together. Military.”

That information does absolutely nothing to help your case. But it does make a few things click. Obviously, you can do no wrong! But, if you and your co workers were all interested in the same guy you’d feel similarly.

Maybe not gang up on him at his job similarly but details details!

You purse your lips, pausing as you think. “So what now? You gonna make me pick?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Gaz, leaning against the counter like this is his moment, smirks. “Only fair.”

Johnny raises the flowers slightly. “I did bring gifts.”

Price just lifts an eyebrow, as if daring you to make him wait longer. Simon stays silent…but that stare? It speaks volumes.

You shake your head, grabbing your keys and moving towards the lockers. “Oh, I’m not playing this game.”

Gaz calls after you, laughing, “You started this game!”

You shout back, “I just make coffee!”

The men stood in a loose formation near the counter, all eyes fixed on the door you disappeared behind. From the back, your muffled voice could be heard muttering curses…something about you’re just a girl and men should worship the ground you walk on?

They were silent for a long beat.

Then Gaz broke it. “We could share.”

“Come again?” “Sorry, what now?” “Mate, did you hit your head?”

Gaz shrugged, completely serious. “I mean…we could share. Or at least give her a chance to decide. Dates, time, whatever she needs.”

Johnny looked down at the bouquet, fingers tightening around the stems. “Not like this is the first time we've had... overlap.”

“And I don’t think any of us are exactly eager to back off,” Gaz added.

Simon said nothing, but the way his jaw flexed said plenty. Price met Simon’s eyes. Silent, knowing. A familiar, unspoken agreement passed between them. “We share.”

Gaz grinned. “Glad we’re all being reasonable.”

Johnny shook his head, muttering, “This is gonna get complicated.”

SImon finally spoke. “She’s worth it.”

Silence settled again as they listened to something crash in the back room. Probably a stack of coffee filters.. Were you always this much of a firecracker?

Johnny exhaled. “Gonna have to explain this real carefully.”

“Yeah,” Gaz said, nodding. “But not tonight..”

[rueclfer]

Ur event got me thinking you absolutely don't need to use this as part of the job fair but garbage man tomura 🤤🤤

You need to see the vision him in his neon vest sweaty and tired coming home to his work from home office girly girlfriend I can't decide if the dynamic is "let me shower you demon" and feral y/n or "go shower you stink" and "no I want a goddamn kiss"

I'm on such a tomura shigaraki kick lately I'm loving the job fair and the new tomura content and as always you're fucking amazing ruru 🙏🙏🫐

highkey i was so excited for this LMAO i needed something silly sooooo baaddd hi blooby this is damn near a self insert bc i am Pro Shower First or get hosed down in the front lawn

garbage man!tomura // job fair

event m.list

as you hear the door swing open and hit the wall behind it, you suddenly have the thought that you should’ve locked yourself in another room until you heard the shower running.

“tomu?” you call out from the kitchen.

there’s a brief moment of silence. you try to hear for clothes dropping onto the floor- hopeful that he’d listen to you and just leave his work uniform to be dealt with later. he’d get his kiss and everyone would be happy.

then he steps around the corner. uniform on, vest and gloves slung over his shoulder, and hair pulled up into a messy ponytail.

“no,” you warn, moving around the kitchen island for the distance.

“are you fucking serious right now?” he whines, moving around the island in which you proceed to follow around, leaving you two on opposing sides.

he gives you a deadpan expression, unbelieving of this cat and mouse game you’ve set up for yourselves in your kitchen.

“i told you i was,” you groaned, “i don’t want to kiss you right now. go shower and then i will after.”

“I just got off an eight hour shift. physical labor. in the sun. i deserve a kiss.”

you nod your head, “yes i agree, and i’ll give you a really good one when you’re clean.”

tomura is tempted to throw a glove in your direction and see how quickly you’d scurry away, but he could already see your fingertips twitching for the sink’s hose if he made any sudden movements.

you two are stuck in a staring contest for a minute, waiting for the other to make the next move. 

“just a kiss.”

“no.”

“hold your fucking breath if you have to,” he exasperated.

“take off your clothes.”

a beat of silence passes between you two.

tomura presses his lips together in a tight line. normally with a request like that, he doesn’t have to be asked twice, but with the current circumstances and how much you’ve irritated him today before even getting home from work, you’re at a standstill.

“come take them off for me,” he taunts.

you narrow your eyes at him as he shrugs his vest and gloves to the ground. tomura holds his arms out for you, motioning for you to come closer with a shit-eating smirk on his face knowing that he knows exactly how to lure you in.

you pout.

your boyfriend is a hard worker. he has to deal with your antics. he’s tired. he just wants some love.

you slowly move your way around the kitchen island, and let yourself touch his outreached hands. you interlock your fingers with his at arm's length, hoping that this bit of physical touch is enough to satiate him.

“is this good enough?” you mutter.

“yeah.” he smirks, “this is good.”

tomura’s grip tightens. you feel him tense up, but his smile never leaves his face. he suddenly jerks you into him in one movement that almost makes you trip over yourself. in a second, you’re engulfed into his arms, tightly held chest to chest, and locked in an embrace that leaves you screaming.

“looks like you’re getting in the shower with me,” he mutters in between your wails.

[the-librarby]

hiii i love your drunk in the club series !!

would you write a blurb/fic where johnny shows the rest of the 141 the picture from the bar of reader and ghost? i feel like that could be so cuteee

DRUNK IN DA CLUB — OUTTAKE I

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

I’ve been waiting for this one, let’s fucking go.

It had been less than twenty four hours back on base before John set his mind to ruining Simon’s day.

He was fucking tired— a nice bone tired after a good holiday — no one has really picked up on his oddly serene mood yet, and he was hoping to keep it that way for at least the rest of the day.

Miss you already.

Sent 25 minutes ago.

He wasn’t ignoring you, just waiting for a pocket of silence where he would have you to himself without peering eyes and ears. The dining room was empty as of now, everyone being preoccupied with unpacking their things so he was soaking in the last minutes of peaceful silence until all hell broke loose.

“Restful break then?” Gaz asks, clapping him on the shoulder before taking a seat beside him.

“S’alright,” he mutters through his mask.

“No beach trip like Soap wanted I take it?” He inquires jokingly, broad smile on his face.

Simon rolls his eyes, “Fuck no.”

Price mills in not long after, catching the tail end of the conversation, “Hell would soon freeze over before I here about Ghost at the beach,”

“Can’t argue with that, Cap.” Gaz laughs.

A steady silence washes over the kitchen as everyone goes about their individual things. John is suspiciously absent, he’s usually the first one trying to unpack a conversation—in avoidance of unpacking his bags—Simon thinks he’s probably stealing another minute to talk to that girl he met through you.

He spoke too soon.

Moments later Johnny strides in, first it’s inconspicuous, like he’s just trying to see what everyone else is up too. But then he sees who’s in the room, Simon sitting at the head of the table while Gaz and Price sit either side engaged in small talk. Simon watches as John’s expression morphs into one of concerning mischief. He watches as he cautiously approaches the table, standing at the other end and pressing his fingertips together like a cliché villain would.

John clears his throat, “I’m glad I could bring you all here on such short notice,”

Gaz raises an eyebrow and looks at Simon, “What’s he on about?”

Simon shrugs, “Fucked if I know,” he knows.

“You’re probably wondering why I called you here,” John carries on, pacing back and forth.

“Spit it out son,” Price sighs, “It’s too early for you to be talking in tongues,”

John points at Simon, “He’s the one that’s been talking in tongues,” he shoots back, laughing at his own inside joke.

“Anyway, where was I,” he pauses, “Oh yeah. I am here to tell you the epic tale of the one who crumbled The Ghost himself.”

All three men look at him in silence. If Simon wasn’t wearing a mask right now he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose, he refuses to give into the bait so he just sits there in silent resignation.

Gaz is the first to break the silence, “Five bucks I call bullshit— it’s gonna be some elaborate fairytale,”

Johnny points at him as an auctioneer would, “I call your bet, anyone else in?”

Price sighs and leans back in his seat while crossing his arms over his chest, “Get on with it Soap, I don’t have all day,”

John clears his throat theatrically, “I, ever so graceful—”

“Yeah, that’s the word we’ll use,” Gaz mutters.

“Shut up,” he raises his palm in Gaz’s face, “Ever so graceful, hosted Ghost over the break,” he lowers his hand, “And in that time, I saw this fucker find his soulmate,”

Price raises an eyebrow and looks towards Gaz, “I think I’m seeing the fairytale come to life,”

Gaz hums, “Where did the princess come from?”

John scoffs, “Can’t show all my card yet Gaz, c’mon now,” he looks at Simon, “Anything details you want to add? Wedding plans?

Simon shakes his head, “You’ve lost your mind,”

“Wedding?” Price inquires turning his head to see Simon now. He hates how much they’re both buying into John’s nonsense theatrics, he’d almost rather blurt out the truth himself.

“Who’s best man then?” Gaz laughs, “It’s me, right Ghost?”

“Fuck off,” John spits, “I’m the obvious choice,”

Simon huffs and looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief, “Not havin’ this debate, finish your story, Johnny,”

“Eager huh?” He smirks but concedes, “S’lright Gaz, you can be the best man. I’ll be there regardless, being apart of the bride’s family and all.”

He knew the story had an end point, he knew it would end with himself getting outed. He just didn’t think Johnny would drop the bomb like that, but of course he shouldn’t have expected anything else.

“You fuckin’ dickhead, why would you announce it like that?” He mutters.

Gaz squints his eyes, looking a Price for guidance as he works out the mental maths before him, “Bride’s family?”

If he weren’t expecting it, he would have flinched from the way Gaz slammed his hands down on the table and stood up from his chair, “John’s sister?” He exclaims, “You got with his fucking sister?”

He looks at John, “And you’re not pissed off? That your lieutenant is dating your sister?” He looks at Simon, “You really want to marry into his family?” He asks, hitching a thumb in John’s direction.

Simon crosses his arms over his chest, “Didn’t say anything about a wedding,”

“Yet,” John interrupts.

Simon’s silence makes Gaz laugh hysterically, Price who hasn’t said a word at all, just shakes his head in disbelief.

“Alright,” Price raises his hands, waiting for Gaz to simmer down, “I’ve heard more elaborate lies from you over smaller things. I’m not believin’ another word until I see proof,”

John nods, “So glad you said that, Captain,” he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. Simon would walk out of the room now if he knew it wouldn’t make his case worse, so he just sits there and grits his teeth.

Gaz is sitting on the edge of his seat, admittedly it’s gotten Price to straighten up too. John clears his throat once he’s found his evidence, “And to back up my claims, fresh off the press, a photo of two birds—one drunk out of her fucking mind—all cozy in their nest,”

Price is the first to lean forward and look at John’s phone. On the screen is the photo he took of the two of you at the bar, its exposure is slightly high from the flash but it’s undeniably himself and you sitting on the barstools. His arm is over your chest while you lie back against him, your arms hugging his own.

It’s damning evidence that even Simon can’t get around.

“Holy fucking shit,” Gaz breaks the silence, “This feels like a relic—like it needs to be preserved behind glass,”

“I fucking told ye, and you didn’t believe me,” John states.

Price looks at Simon and nods approvingly, “Good for you,”

“That’s it?” John asks, “Good for you? I just showed you evidence of the century,”

“I didn’t think you could even tolerate affection,” Gaz adds, looking speechless.

“Get this Gaz,” John continues, “First day there, it’s hot as balls and we go to a local swimming spot,” he puts his phone down, “I turn my back for one minute and when I turn around she’s slathering him in sunscreen,”

“Oh,” Gaz laughs, turning to Simon, “You like her huh? Did she get your back?”

John scoffs and crosses his arms, “She was too busy droolin’ over it to touch it,” he mutters.

“What?” Simon asks, suddenly interested.

“What?” John interjects, “Nothin’.”

Simon sits there and listens to John air out all his business like it’s his own. After the shock dies down Gaz and Price both look at him with a fond smile—in utter disbelief yes, but happy for him.

When time allows it, he sneaks back to his room and finally opens his phone. There’s two messages waiting for him, one from you, and an image from John.

Johnny told everyone about us.

That fucking asshole.

Guess I’m meeting them soon then?

Simon smiles, and types out one last message.

Maybe at the wedding.

Whose wedding???

When your last message shows up on Simon’s lockscreen, the photo from the bar pops up in the background.

[jyunhology]

oh, honey lady ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ smg (m)

summary: when you get stood up and cancelled on one too many times, your friend takes it upon herself to get you to enjoy a night out. but you’re faced immediately with the source of your woes pressed up to another and a bartender who catches on quickly. the latter offers to dance with you; will you say yes?

a/n: have been getting a lot of feels for mingi lately .. i blacked out n wrote this aft watching the recent ateez whodunnit because jesus christ that man looked FINE acting as a bartender.

wc: 6.1k

warnings: MINORS DNI!!!! bartender!mingi, softdom!mingi, sub!reader, reader's (ex) bf is a loser, reader lowkey traumatised from her (ex) bf, mingi is very understanding, consumption of alcohol (however, they’re not drunk during the deed, just a little tipsy), grinding in a public space (a club lol), lots of teasing, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, praise, use of pet names (baby, honey, doll), bit of fluff in the middle, clit stimulation, unprotected p -> v sex (pls wrap it up irl), creampie, slight aftercare, mingi is so soft and patient with reader .. ❤️

No matter how much you knew this wasn’t your fault, you still can’t help but find fault with yourself — looks, personality, fashion. You passed it off the first time as something akin to a mistake, a miscalculation with the overtime your boyfriend, Hyunjae, had to do because of his recent promotion.

With mumbled apologies into your hair and fairly enjoyable sex, you thought everything between you both was going to be okay. It was just one dinner date, plus, he made it up to you with a fancy trip over the weekend and several, impressive gifts.

But you think you should’ve known better, because it happened a second time not even a month later, and the cycle repeats itself: sin, repent, and fall back into temptation all over again.

The only mistake you were making was thinking too highly of Hyunjae, assuming temptation was reports and hard work for extra cash, and not having a fucking affair with another woman in the printing room.

By the time the third incident came around, your friend was quick to propose a night out the next day despite your protests, but you know it came from a place of love. With the way she comforted you with memes and funny reels and words of advice, you realised it was the first time you’ve laughed since the supposed dinner at seven.

Ignoring the sinking dread settling in your heart the next afternoon, you shoot a simple ill be out late tonight to Hyunjae before dragging your body out of bed. You moved on autopilot, then, choosing not to acknowledge that he didn’t even return last night, preoccupying yourself instead with picking out your outfit.

And it was easy enough with a clear vision in your head; you weren’t afraid to dress up even after getting together with Hyunjae. This time it wasn’t any different — miniskirt, a cute fitted top and boots — that you already felt a bit better upon arriving at a bar for some pregame. The alcohol felt good, the company was better, and the both of you were already giggling and tipsy when you entered the club.

“Isn’t this way better than crying over that dumbass?” Yunjin nudges you gently before offering you a small smile.

You sigh, “I guess. I just don’t want it to be a recurring thing and make you responsible every time.”

“At least you know your limit now,” She loops an arm around you to keep you close as you two walk deeper into the club. “Still, as much as I love you, it was difficult trying to get you out of the club because you’d only be talking in counts of 8.” 

Ever the teasing friend, you nudge her back before breaking into laughter together, heading right to the bar for a lighter drink. It’s buzzing with orders left and right with the (possibly) poor newcomer trying his best to work the counter with all its confusing buttons. But he’s saved by another, a taller, more experienced bartender who was definitely carved by gods.

You try not to gawk, though, feeling guilty even when he shoots the two of you a small customer-service smile. “Give us a minute, alright? We’ll get to ya soon.” The moment he’s turned around, Yunjin shakes your arm excitedly.

“What? what?” 

“Don’t ‘what?’ me! Tell me you didn’t see the way he was looking at you.”

“Yunjin…” You sigh. “You know Hyunjae and I aren’t broken up—”

“Yet.” She interrupts with that single word and you shoot her a half playful, half serious glare.

“Okay, but, I have no business looking at other people just ’cause I’ve been stood up thrice.” The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, recognising that it really didn’t sound good out loud.

“Yeah, but don’t you think those are enough times to call things off?” She faces you completely now with both hands on your arms, trying to look you in the eye while you shrink, flustered and a bit embarrassed at how easily you seem to crawl back to Hyunjae.

Because you felt that if you let this go, you’d never feel this way ever again, having someone else walking out your life again like clockwork.

Your fingers tense subconsciously; clenching, unclenching. You settle for taut hands to your friend’s, removing them with the little fight left in you. “Yunjin, can— can we please drop this for now? I came out to forget my boyfriend for a bit, and then I’ll go back home and everything will be f—”

But the universe has other plans for you, conversation cut short from the handsome bartender asking about your orders now.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies. What will you two be having?” In the midst of wiping his hands on the towel, he leans over the counter just as Yunjin gives her order, but you swear over the booming music, the bass reverberating, the screamed lyrics, you hear familiarity.

It’s funny how habitual you can become with someone; hearing that same laugh in your skin on slow mornings and during reruns of B99 that you can’t help but search the dancefloor frantically.

You weren’t even sure why you did it, but you think you were chasing that familiarity and safety of having someone even though they were shit at showing up.

But along the desperate scans you do with your eyes, you register that you were simply accustomed to having Hyunjae in your life, accustomed to coming back again to an empty house. Yet, you can’t even remember the last time you said I love you to him.

And always trust your gut, because that sinking feeling from earlier comes back tenfold when your eyes lock onto two people on the floor with bodies leaving no space.

Hyunjae has no qualms about getting caught, his hands roaming all over her body and practically grinding from behind that you feel your knees buckle a little.

“Yunjin…” The lights were too blinding, the music now too loud, but you don’t have to say anything to know she’s already helping you onto a bar stool. When she turns to where you were looking, her jaw tightens and wordlessly places a hand on your lower back.

You go through emotions, fast — denial, and then anger and then a hint of sadness. But what you’re mainly feeling is a thirst for revenge knowing he thinks you’re a coward, a girl desperate for love.

Maybe you are, and there’s nothing wrong with mourning what you had. Though, being cancelled on three times within two months and spewing lies about overtime, ignites your resolve easily.

All the while, the bartender watches the interaction carefully, skilled hands still able to fulfill people’s orders, but he’s got you and your boyfriend all figured out. Not that he meant to eavesdrop, though, exchanging a glance with your friend until you raise your head with unshed tears.

“Thought I lost you there for a moment. That your boyfriend?” He nodded in the general direction and had probably used that line countless times, but you give credit where credit’s due; he was attractive and didn’t choose to comment on your glossy eyes.

With semi-long hair, pretty moles and plump lips, you want to enjoy this seat a bit longer, proposing a silly idea as you nod.

“Ex-, now. Do you have any chance to get them both kicked out?” You smile, small and unsure, but he replies with an even sweeter smile laced with sympathy that makes your heart skip just a little.

“No can do. If he’s not causing trouble, our bouncers have no reason to throw him out. Sorry, ladies.” For a moment, he’s back to being professional and tries not to steal glances at you as you blink away tears and attempt to appear unaffected.

He serves the drinks he’s already made, helps the counter boy again with orders until he hears your friend beg again when he comes ’round to your side.

“Oh please, Mr Bartender!” He raises an eyebrow, eyes trained on the both of you while capping his shaker before shaking. You purse your lips teasingly despite your blurred vision and the heat on your cheeks, “She can be pretty persuasive.” God, you didn’t even know what you were feeling at the moment.

He shrugs. “Well, tell you what — I get off my shift in about fifteen, and you’re looking for some retribution. Why don’t we do a little dance of our own?”

With a sigh, you ponder over your cards — Hyunjae might be pleasantly surprised and you’d end up with a hot bartender in your arms to boot. But if this is only going to leave a hole in your heart after everything, what really was the point?

“It’s your call, doll. If you’re still holding this,” He holds up a slim piece of metal that matches the club’s colours with its letters engraved in stark white, “by the time I come back, I’m taking you onto the floor for a dance. Deal?”

It’s dropped into your palm before you flip it over, running a thumb over the debossed name.

“Mingi.”

“You got it.” Mingi gives you a dazzling grin and a wink while you stifle a smile.

You spend the next ten minutes debating your options that you can’t count the amount of times Yunjin had to get your attention back on her. Revenge sounded delicious before.

Now? Now you’re waddling deep in doubt, worried about the aftertaste; all you wanted was to go home and sleep this whole thing off. Even the name tag was weighing heavy in your hand.

But the late nights cooking dinner, sitting alone at restaurants and the sheer indifference Hyunjae’s currently dancing with, did you in.

If you were chickening out only so someone this terrible stays, then you might regret this single night with someone else who already has shown you more respect than Hyunjae ever did.

The music is a bit clearer to you, now, and less suffocating as you call out to the bartender with five minutes left until his shift ends. You play with the pin at the back, unfastening and popping it back into place repeatedly. 

“I’ll take a Lemon Drop.” A knowing smile, a swipe of your card, sugar sweet on your lips. It hits great, and with a bit of liquid courage in you, you wait.

Mingi is quick to show up by your side a few minutes later, but he manages to take your breath away all over again with a more casual look.

Jewellery, messy hair and unbuttoned shirt down to his pecs that gives you a glimpse of a pretty little pendant resting nicely on his chest and rings adorning his fingers.

“Care for a dance?” His deep voice up close already has your stomach turning, opening your hand to show how you still had his name tag and he grins. “Keep it for now.”

You barely hear the whisper into your ear, but without any second thought you place your hand in his, the metal of his rings sending shivers right up your arm and down your spine. A faint cheer from Yunjin encourages you on, already feeling the addicting beats of the music playing.

Mingi is considerate above all else, looking back to see if you were still there, clearing a path for the both of you until you’re a few bodies away from Hyunjae. But standing out here now brings another wave of panic and embarrassment.

You were really about to do this, but—

What if he doesn’t like the way you danced? What if he’s a clean freak and would rather not have his hands over your already sweaty sides? What if Hyunjae creates a scene?

The thoughts are never-ending, swirling in your mind until you can feel Mingi’s hand enclose around your other hand, halting you from adjusting your outfit, from scratching at your skin.

It’s hot, too crowded for a dance floor and he knows that you’re nervous again with the increased proximity to your boyfriend.

Without words, Mingi brings your hands to rest on his shoulders. “Is this okay?”

You nod. Bodies beside you cause you to inch closer to him and his hair is so soft. Your tongue tingles from the lemon’s sourness and you want nothing more than to balance it out with his mouth that smells of rum. 

“Hey, I realise I haven’t gotten your name just yet.” The smile he has isn’t teasing, cocky, and you manage a small one back. He leans down to get your answer.

“It’s (Y/N).”

“Pretty. Follow my lead.”

And slowly but surely, you get out of your shell as you both lose all formality with the ear-splitting songs. The cocktail makes your hands wander, trailing over his nape, over his broad shoulders. He still hovers.

You don’t know whether it’s Mingi, the dim lighting or the song but you don’t hesitate to force his hands to your sides and he takes it as a sign.

He’s pulling you close until you’re pressed to his front, head immediately going for your exposed neck, and the laugh that escapes feels so different from Hyunjae, so free that you giggle with him.

It turns from wanting to Hyunjae to see you could do so much better to genuinely enjoying your time with the bartender that you don’t register the shock forming on Hyunjae’s face when he spots you just a few people over. Mingi doesn’t miss it, squeezing your waist softly to bring it to your attention.

“B-babe? What’re you doing here?” He acts like he doesn’t even know the girl dancing with him, yanking her off of him as he tries to preserve his dignity. But you knew better — you’ve seen her face at company dinners, on his Instagram story.

“Why are you here?” He sputters out an answer, not expecting you to fight back. Hyunjae’s smaller than ever now.

The bartender resists the urge to scoff at his lack of explanation, about to tell him to piss off when you push at Hyunjae with a finger. “I’ll tell you why I’m here. Witnessing you and the girl you told me not to worry about. Talking crap about overtime just to fuck her in your workplace.”

“W-What? That’s bullshit, where’d you even get that from?!”

Thank God for Mingi’s Lemon Drop, because you shove Hyunjae harder than before, angering the people behind him who push him back towards you.

“Guess you’ll never find out how. Get your shit out of my apartment and leave before tomorrow morning or else I’ll be telling your boss about inappropriate workplace conduct.”

Hyunjae rolls his eyes and waves you off, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I hope the job market’s ready for someone who promised overtime hours only to soil the printing room. Keep checking your emails babe.” You purposefully drag out the pet name he likes to use on you, which now sounds cheap and tacky. Mingi can’t help a cackle from escaping, tugging you closer as if you’re his.

And you might just be by the end of this night. 

Hyunjae doesn’t bother to one-up the bartender one bit, only throwing Mingi a scowl before elbowing himself through the crowd. Unknowingly, your body relaxes, melting into the other’s arms easily and wanting nothing more than to turn off your brain for the night. It makes Mingi smile.

You’re bolder when the night deepens. It starts with running your hands down his chest and grasping softly at his waist. There’s whispered lyrics into your skin, letting him trail kisses down your jawline to your sternum and you feel like you’re on top of the world. 

His body’s flush against yours, tensing and breathing hard. The heat’s suffocating and the kisses sweet, hovering over just where you both need each other desperately.

“Heard you’re a dancer,” Mingi mumbles, sneaky hands going past your hips to your ass and kneads. You laugh. 

“You heard whatever Yunjin said? It was one time,” You reminisce about the time you went out for her birthday before getting shit-faced drunk and talking to her only in counts, “and she was struggling to understand what I was saying.”

It takes a beat for you to take the leap. “Want me to show you?”

A pretty laugh leaves his lips, “Your dancing or your innate ability to only talk in eights?”

Fuck, he’s handsome and funny.

“Har-har, very funny.” The moment’s playful but charged with underlying tension that only increases once the song changes. With a hand, you lift his head from your neck, taking advantage of his surprise to turn around.

Pushing up against him, you make sure he’s feeling every part of your ass on him, swaying your hips until you get a small groan from him. Tempted, Mingi places his hands along your waist, helping you grind down on him while arousal pools in your panties.

He’s enamoured with how well you fit against him, even more so when you lace your fingers with his, tugging one up to rest on your chest.

He takes the bait with how you turn your head, boasting your pretty lips with eyes closed. But you’re not letting him get what he wants that easily, finger pressed against his lips.

“Did the Lemon Drop do this, hm?” He’s back on your neck like it’s his home, slurring his words in that deep, deep voice of his that you want nothing more than to hear that for the rest of your life (and hopefully in your bed tonight).

“Maybe.” You can’t help but chuckle triumphantly, but it’s cut short when he suddenly yanks you back to his front; shit, you can feel his hard-on — he’s big.

You subconsciously gulp and pull him closer (not without a mildly surprised “oh”), overwhelmed with the feeling of his chest against yours, of his hips moving in tandem with yours, of his breath on your lips.

“I’m full of surprises, too.”

“That was so corny.” Biting your lip, you try to stifle a smile but it bleeds out past your lips, “You’re lucky I still want to fuck you.”

“Aw, only fuck?” He feigns sadness as he bats his eyelashes at you. That question probably would’ve made you think twice, but with Mingi’s little pout, the vodka in your system and Rihanna in the background, you throw all complicated feelings out the window.

“Shut up, Mingi.” 

That elicits a low chuckle. “Gladly.”

He collides with you immediately, lips moulding into yours like two parts of a whole that you stumble a bit from the force. But you waste no time in reciprocating with neediness of your own, tugging him down to you with hands tangled in his black hair.

You could care less about your ex, about Yunjin excitedly texting you from the bar, nor the people around you.

Not when Mingi’s slipping his tongue into your mouth and your pussy’s just desperate for relief that you moan softly into his mouth.

“God, you sound pretty,” He pulls away for air, but he’s already hooked onto your taste, leaving pecks on your lips again and again. His hands rest comfortably on your sides, caressing, squeezing. “Need to hear that in my sheets.”

You mutter a soft fuck before licking your lips, “Your place?”

Mingi hums into your lips, “You have my name tag, baby. It’s up to you,” and grins when he sees you jolt. The pet name affects you. He knows.

Fuck it. You need this man now.

With a quick text to Yunjin, everything that happens on the way to Mingi’s doesn’t exist. The ride was both a torment and a blur when his hand trails so closely to where you need him and his hips adjust uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. You’re so horny that you’re sure you’ve sobered up already.

You lunge forward once the front door’s closed, eagerness undermining both your abilities to remove your shoes, too preoccupied with devouring the other.

Mingi tastes like sage and citrus, a flavour you’ll keep locked away forever; he breaks the kiss reluctantly, and that taste travels down your body, taking his time.

Mingi’s anything but composed, though, larger hands wrapped around your middle while he takes in your scent and sweat, nose pressed against your heaving stomach.

Just a mere bartender, a one-night stand acting like a lover when he fully goes onto his knees and zips open your boots. Torturously, agonisingly slow, and removes them even slower.

By the time the second shoe’s off, your hand has already messed up his hair. You push him to you, he pulls back.

“It’s my time to tease, doll. Patience.” You whine softly in disagreement, letting him plant soft kisses along your ankle, up to your shin and knees and finally your inner thighs that threaten to tighten in his hold.

“Mingi…” You don’t mean to sound so desperate off the bat, but your cunt’s pulsing and the AC’s sending goosebumps all over your skin and possibly the hottest man alive is on his knees in front of you.

“Fuck, baby, I can smell you from here.” Like a gentleman, he helps you to shimmy out of your miniskirt and underwear before tossing it somewhere and you’re suddenly self conscious about being all exposed.

But Mingi simply doesn’t care about decorum as he lifts your leg, prompting you to place it on his shoulder. He marvels at your arousal illuminated by the doorway lighting, stifling a moan.

“Look at you.” Sighing, he plays with your folds, trailing a finger up and down and smirking when he feels you shiver under his touch. “So perfect. All this for me?”

“Y-Yeah, just for you,” Your words are muffled from your hand, trying to hold back your sounds but Mingi isn’t having any of that. He thinks your ex-boyfriend may have something to do with it.

“Let me hear you, alright, honey?” Mingi takes your hand and interlocks it together with his, a promise that you’ll be the star tonight. “We’re safe here, there’s no need to hold back.”

You nod just as he blows into your cunt, making you clench around nothing and he smiles. “For now, let me eat my meal.”

And Mingi eats, convincing yourself that you’ve definitely driven a hole through his shoebox cabinet with how hard you were leaning against it. Your hips buck against his face, tongue flicking over your clit as you relish in the pleasure.

“Oh my G-God, Mingi…” You can barely hold eye contact with him as he latches onto your pussy like a vice, addicted to your taste, your sounds and how you drip endlessly all over his tongue.

“That’s it, doll, tell me how good you feel.” Mingi continues to inch closer on his knees, trapping himself under your thighs as his tongue works wonders.

With an experimental finger, he circles your pulsing hole and pushes in ever so slightly, making you almost keel over from the overwhelming feeling.

“Fuck, Mingi, that feels so—!” Your moans fill his house together with the lewd sounds of your pussy, feeling the vibrations of his hums on your sensitive clit. His thumb plays with it as he comes up for air, adding a second finger easily before starting to pump them with determination.

“That feel good?” He’s brutal in his thrusting, but it’s not even a minute when he returns with his merciless tongue again, swearing that you were seeing stars from this alone.

If Mingi was this pussy drunk, who knows how you’d feel when he’s in you? You tremble at the thought, fingers pulling at his hair until it stings.

But Mingi loves it, loves seeing your eyes flutter close and your toes curl in sheer pleasure as the prettiest mewls fall from your lips. You’re full on grinding into his face now, holding onto his hand like a lifeline, while there’s the audible slick sounds of your juices. 

It’s hotter than it was on the dance floor, and fully knowing you’d be buckling to the ground if it wasn’t for Mingi’s secure hold on you. Because you can feel yourself getting weaker and weaker the more the coil in your stomach turns, clamping down hard on his fingers.

“I-I’m close, baby—” Your words slip, every part of your body tingles and he pants out a plea.

“Call me that again for me, doll.” He’s ravishing you, ruining you for any other person and you wouldn’t have it any other way. His rings feel so cold on your cunt, while his mouth’s hot and he’s dizzy off of you.

“Gonna cum, baby,” If your friend couldn’t understand you while drunk, Mingi’s chest puffs with pride making you babble nonsensical things while you’re both tipsy with his name being the only coherent thing, “Mingi, Mingi, Mingiiii.”

The name becomes a chant together with needy whines that’s drowned out by your soaking pussy. Mingi lets the force of his palm stimulate your clit instead, and the visual of seeing him on his knees with this tongue out—

“F-fuck…” Your orgasm hits you in sudden waves, sending you jerking against his hold even when his fingers don’t slow down, “Feels s’good, Mingi—”

“There we go, baby, keep cumming… Taste just like honey.” Mingi groans and drives his tongue along your folds for a taste, but now he takes and takes, savouring whatever you have to give. Sweeter than his Lemon Drop, you taste so heavenly that he wants seconds.

But you have other plans, trying your best to regain your balance and simultaneously drag him up by the biceps. Mingi traps you in between the cabinet, and you trap him with a passionate kiss. Moaning into his mouth at your taste while he soothes your aching thighs with his gentle touch.

“Bed. Now.” Your cheeks warm as he laughs against your lips at your request. 

“You got it, doll.” With a hand outstretched, you grab hold and let him lead you just like the club. Along the way, you slip on your underwear just so you won’t be butt ass naked and he throws you a small smile. Except this time, you’re not performing for anyone, not for Hyunjae, not for yourself, and hopefully not for Mingi.

Though, if riding Mingi’s tongue had you thrashing left and right, you think you’d be safe, knowing he’ll take care of you.

His room feels strangely familiar — posters and records plastered up everywhere with a portable closet and pretty lights. There’s a few guitars in cases with one displayed proudly while his desk is littered with cute trinkets and a gaming set-up. It’s a lived-in bedroom, worn down from years of tape on walls and accidents from silly dance moves.

“Hard to believe I’m an adult with this room, huh?”

You smile at him, finding it endearing he’s still kept his hobbies and favourite things close to him. “No no, it’s charming. I like it.”

You continued, “I don’t think having a ‘serious’ job like bartending immediately eliminates your other hobbies.”

Mingi shoots you that boyish grin again, “You think my job’s ‘serious’?” and mimics your air quotes.

“Well, you are handling alcohol — it seems pretty serious, don’t you think?” There’s no choice but to giggle when Mingi’s expression turns from all-knowing to pondering. “And— And there’s always the usual brooding persons that come in to vent their problems to you.”

Mingi bursts out laughing at that with an attractive rasp to it, plopping on his Queen size. “You’re not wrong about that. I guess I’m sort of like a therapist too.”

Like a magnet, you feel the pull into his arms just as he whispers a c’mere, finally able to see his face properly when you stand in between his legs.

The glistening juices on the bottom half of his face make you flush just a bit, but up close, Mingi feels so familiar. Not the way Hyunjae was — that was habit disguised as familiarity.

But despite your unconfirmed fate and the possibility of never seeing Mingi again, he enchants like no other. Fuck, you were talking crazy. 

The other seems to see your dilemma, reaching for your hands. “We don’t have to do anything, you know?”

His touch is so tender, it makes your heart ache, “I know we only danced to scare off your boyfriend but I genuinely did want to know you. And… I know you feel it too, but I don’t wanna pressure you after seeing such a shitty thing in the club.”

“You’re… not wrong, Mingi. It has been only a few hours and you’ve already made me feel more worth than he ever did but, I’ll need time to process my feelings too.”

Slowly, you remove your hands from his but only to straddle him in the next second, whining softly when he tugs you closer if that was even possible. 

“But tonight, I want you to fuck all the feelings out of me. I don’t wanna think, I don’t wanna—” You heave a heavy sigh, swallowing when you think back to Hyunjae and his colleague. 

Mingi applies light pressure to your side to ground you. “(Y/N), hey, it’s no problem. Your wish is my command, tonight.”

“And after—”

“We’ll talk about the after later, don’t worry your pretty little head ’bout it.” You don’t even realise he’s flipped you over but he takes his time to remove his pants and boxers, ego stroked just a little when he sees your wide eyes at his size.

“You’re…” 

“I know, baby. We’ll take it slow, alright?” Mingi is steady even as he reaches over for a condom, but you stop him.

“Wanna feel all of you.” He swears his heart bursts at your cute pout. “I’m clean and on the pill, that okay?”

“More than okay. I’m clean too. You sure you’re okay?” He asks as he tugs your panties to the side, interrupted briefly from your impatient hum.

“Yes, Mingi. Please just fuck me already.” Your voice is less bratty, more pleading, but it strikes a chord within him. He obeys immediately. 

“Okay, okay!” His deep laugh elicits one out of you, too. At least you don’t stop him from taking the lube — he spurts a good amount and strokes himself with a soft grunt, mixing in with his pre-cum. Relief. “It’s gonna hurt. Need you to breathe and relax, okay?”

Mingi’s already much thicker than your ex, and you hiss slightly at the stretch once he inches his cock in. But it’s nothing you can take, eyes trained on how he’s pushing through slowly. 

“F-Fuck, baby, you gotta stop clenching. So tight—” You whimper at the sight, but Mingi uses his body to push you down, distracting you with deep kisses that subconsciously relaxes your body. His intoxicating smell and presence does the rest of the job.

“Taking me so well, good girl.” He mumbles into your skin as you become obsessed with the way his body engulfs yours, towering but certain.

His pendant’s movements are messy, colliding with your chin over and over but Mingi is just so deep it doesn’t register in your head. “Just a little more, honey, you got it.”

In the next minute, Mingi’s loud groan fills your ears, bottoming out in your walls that feel so warm that he never wants to pull out.

His furrowed eyebrows with sweat lined along it paired with his beautiful parted lips is enough to make your cunt pulse and heart full — making a pretty man like him lose his mind over you, desperation and profanity spilling over.

“M-Move, baby, please—” With a slow thrust of his hips, he has to drop his head to yours because you just feel too fucking good wrapped around his aching length. Both your shaky breaths mingle as he sets a comfortable pace that allows you both to feel every part of the other.

And his languid movements have never felt slower and more intense, the obscene noises of your soaking pussy stuffed full reverberating off the walls. It surrounds you like a cloud, making the feeling, the sensations rise to an all time high.

It’s worse when Mingi folds your legs to your chest, the image of his shaft disappearing into your pretty little pussy searing itself into his brain.

Mingi keeps his promise to you, taking your one-worded pleas and turning them into repeated “ah’s” with no room for any word or any doubt left in your mind. By now, he’s pistoning in and out of you, your release from earlier merging with the lube until both you and Mingi are filthy and soaking, juices flowing down your thighs and right into his sheets.

“You’re so wet, holy f-fuck—” His eyes are the ones struggling to stay open now, drunk off of everything you that he can’t even move his hips properly, stuttering every now and then.

There’s the delicious squelches every time his skin meets yours, the dizzying pap! pap! pap! that hypnotises you. “Listen to how wet your sweet pussy is, baby.”

You’re past words, only babbling incoherence as Mingi grunts above you, continuing to fill you up with his cock. His thrusts start to turn erratic, so lost in the feeling that the grip on your legs loses its hold. You take the chance to wrap them around his waist, barely catching his pendant and yanking him towards you.

“Kiss me stupid, Mingi.” The long, drawn out moan against your lips sends heat bubbling up from inside you. And the kiss he lands on you leaves fire along your skin, burning indefinitely until a particular thrust has your eyes rolling back.

“Cumming— f-fuck—!” It comes out in broken sobs as you see white, cumming so hard on his pulsating length that your juices spray everywhere and your legs shake uncontrollably. The slight sheen along his cock starts to form a ring of white and he whines at your warmth.

Everything — the craving for you, your tight cunt, how you leak all over him — makes him cum right after. “I-I’m gonna pump you full, baby— shit…”

Your eyes can’t help but roll back again at the sensation of Mingi painting your insides white, cum spurting so deep in you that you can feel it flow out. It’s so warm that you squirm as he holds your hips down, making sure your hole gets every last drop.

Without pulling out, he admires your sweaty top that’s been pushed past your tits, your heaving chest and the remnants of your trembling thighs with a lip bite accompanied by a smile.

Silently, he caresses your outer thighs, slowly bringing your feet down to rest on his soaked sheets. You whimper when you feel him pull out, the salacious sight of cum leaking out from your pussy comes out in blobs; it takes everything in Mingi to compose himself. 

Because you were utterly fucked out, eyes constantly blinking with a light-headed expression that tells him he might’ve fucked you dumb. Your little sounds are just adorable that he rubs his cum just one last time over your folds, claiming you.

“Okay okay, baby, I got you.” With a peck to your forehead, Mingi promises to come back with a wet rag and some water and the last thing you remember is sage and citrus wafting through the air as he plants a sweet kiss to your lips. “And then tomorrow, we’ll figure everything out, okay honey?”

You drift off easily, but you’ll find that for now and possibly forever, Mingi always keeps his promises.

A dream — you think, when you wake up, but you recognise that the bedroom is not yours and the ache in your body persists. But to your dismay, Mingi is nowhere to be found. Not until you hear faint humming coming from the kitchen and smell the lovely aroma of pancakes.

“Morning, baby.” Mingi says like you’ve always been in his life, like you’ve lived here for many years, like you’re familiar to him.

“Y-Yeah, good morning, Mingi.” Awkwardly, you take a seat at his island, but as you watch his broad back cooking breakfast for his one-night stand, you relax for a bit.

Mingi piles a few pancakes for you effortlessly, sliding the plate to you, followed by the butter and then holds up maple syrup in his left hand and honey in the other. The question is unsaid, but you nod towards his right with a small smile that’s returned.

“Eat.” With a plate in his hand as well, he plops down beside you as if one-night stands don’t complicate feelings and makes things messy.

But Mingi, the bartender, with a pure heart and even lovelier soul (you have yet to discover this), eats a meal beside you like you’re tied together by fate (maybe).

(You are).

Now, his deep voice sounds small, but sure. “And then we’ll talk feelings after. And we can talk about the ‘after’ after.”

A deep breath for good measure and luck. “And also maybe about the date I’d wanna bring you on.”

by. janus, from me to you ♡ also major thank you to this video which made me lose my mind n inspired this...

[itoshiabi]

Stain

Summary: You, a clumsy tourist, spill coffee on a stranger—only to learn he's Sae Itoshi. What starts as an accident, leaves behind more than a stain… something neither of you can wash off.

The café is quiet — just the way he likes it.

Sae Itoshi sits at a window booth, scrolling through match footage with one hand and sipping tea with the other. No one has bothered him yet.

That changes in less than ten seconds.

"Oh my god—!"

A crash. A splash of heat.

He flinches, just barely, as coffee spills across his chest, soaking the front of his crisp, white shirt. His brows knit together the moment it hits — not in pain, but in the immediate, simmering annoyance of someone whose day just got very complicated.

You're in front of him, horrified. Tourist. Definitely. The English is a dead giveaway.

"Shit, I didn't see you and I tripped!!!! I am so—oh god—lo siento, I mean—wait, ¿está mojado tu… camisa?"

You're fumbling napkins from the counter and trying to pat the stain off his chest before he can even speak.

He grabs your wrist — not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you.

"Don't," he says flatly, in English.

You freeze.

Your heart is hammering. His voice is sharp, smooth, and cold — and his eyes? Piercing. Pale teal and unreadable.

'I—I was just trying to clean it—"

"You're making it worse."

You pull your hand back like you touched something electric. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there. I was just walking, and I tripped, and—"

Sae looks you over for half a second. There's a splatter of your own drink on your sleeve. Passport poking out of your tote. Sweat at your brow. Your Spanish? Atrocious.

He already knows you have no idea who he is.

Good.

He lets out a quiet exhale and picks up a napkin himself, dabbing once at the soaked fabric.

"Is it ruined?" you ask hesitantly.

He doesn't answer right away.

You shift awkwardly, then blurt out, "How much was it?"

He finally looks at you again, mildly surprised by how direct the question was. He narrows his eyes slightly.

"You want to know how much the shirt costs?"

"I should pay you back, right?" you say, already fishing your credit card from your wallet. "So, just—name it."

A pause. Then-

"€580."

You go still.

Your jaw tugs open slightly. You blink. Then you press your lips together like you're trying very hard to stay composed.

"Right," you say. "Okay. That's… more than my flight here. But sure. Cool. Normal."

Your hand trembles slightly as you hold the card up.

He doesn't take it.

You glance at him. "What, you think I'm joking? I said I'd pay. I'm not a scammer."

He stares at you, that same distant expression on his face — but there's something else now, something subtle. Something intrigued.

"I don't need your money."

"You sure? Pretty sure I just committed fashion manslaughter."

"You think that shirt is fashion?"

You blink. "It was...... white? And expensive?"

Sae huffs once. Barely a laugh. More like air.

You sigh. "Listen, man, I really didn't mean to ruin your mood. Or your… shirt budget."

He doesn't respond. Instead, he shifts slightly in his seat and says, "Sit down."

You blink. "What?"

"You're still standing. It's annoying."

"You're serious?"

He just stares.

You hesitantly sit across from him, trying not to touch anything else. You expect the silence to be suffocating — but strangely, it isn't. He sips what's left of his tea like nothing happened.

Then your eyes catch something over his shoulder.

A man with a camera phone. Snapping a picture. And another.

Of him.

Of you with him.

You stiffen. "Hey… someone's taking pictures."

"I know," he says, not even turning.

You blink. "You know?"

"They usually do."

That gives you pause.

"Are you famous or something?"

Sae finally looks at you again, impassive. Then shrugs once. "Something like that."

You squint. "Wait. Are you in politics?"

He actually chokes on his tea a little.

You sit back, suspicious. "Or a Spanish pop star?"

"I'm not Spanish."

"Then what the hell are you?"

He stares at you, long and hard. You feel like you should shrink under that gaze — but strangely, you don't.

Finally, he says:

"I'm a footballer."

"Oh."

You blink again.

"So, like. For a club or something?"

He doesn't answer. His jaw twitches. You figure you've probably insulted his job.

You rub your forehead, flustered. "Okay, so you're mysterious and intimidating and apparently worth photographing. Great. I'm gonna be on someone's blog titled 'Foreigner girl ruins local athlete's entire fit.'"

"I'm not local either."

''…Are you just trying to be difficult now?"

He doesn't reply. You groan softly and lean back.

And yet… he still hasn't told you to leave.

Outside, Madrid wakes up slowly.

Inside, he watches you like a puzzle that he wasn't expecting to want to solve.

You, the first person in a long time who didn't flinch when he got cold.

Didn't pretend to like him just for his name.

Just a tourist.

Clumsy. Honest.

Annoying — but real.

He glances at his ruined shirt again, then back to you.

"You owe me a coffee," he says.

You blink.

"Wait. Seriously?"

"I didn't stutter.'

You huff. "Fine. One coffee. But I get to pick the table this time."

"Anywhere without you holding a drink is fine."

"Rude."

Sae doesn't smile.

But he also doesn't look away.

[yup-thats-me]

—Shopping Spree • S. Mingi

𐙚pairing: bf!Mingi x gf!reader 𐙚summary: ❝your boyfriend takes you on a much needed shopping trip❞ 𐙚warnings: none 𐙚a/n: I hope you like this noonie. I apologize if I'm not describing the clothes enough. This just isn't my style. I tried :'')

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

"Girl," Mingi dragged throwing a tee on Y/n's face. "How many times have you worn that tee?"

Y/n shrugged, snot looking up from the screen in her hand. "Who cares. Still wearable, isn't it?"

Mingi paused, taking the empty space beside her. Being with the girl for over two years now, Mingi knew how she could get.

When the two first got together. it honestly surprised the singer that Y/n was not crazy about clothes. Having his fair share of girls hitting him up just for the riches, Mingi thought she would be the same, given enough time.

But after months into dating, when he saw the girl hardly ever went shopping or asked for anything, except of his time and love, which he showered her in, Mingi made it his mission to dig deep. It was then that he learnt of her childhood, and everything fell in place.

"Come on," Mingi said, pulling on her wrist. "Get up."

"Where?" her brows furrowed, confused "We don't have any plans for the day."

"We do now," and the man pulled her off the couch ignoring her whines.

"Help, my hot boyfriend is kidnapping me!"

Mingi scoffed, dragging her to the front door. "Real funny, sweetheart," he replied sarcastically.

Y/n pouted, following him to the car. "I swear if its a date, Song Mingi, I will crush your head. I'm not ready!"

"Is that a threat or a promise, love?" He smirked, earning himself a smack on the head.

The drive to god-knows-where was short though. After about fifteen minutes, Mingi stopped in front of a Off-White showroom. Killing the engine, he leaned over to undo her seatbelt, pecking her lips.

"A date it is," he smiled, opening the car door for her.

Y/n hoped out, refusing to let the man see her face growing red. As Mingi rounded the car, the man slung his hand over her shoulder, pulling her close.

"Let's get you some new clothes."

"But I have−," Mingi presses a finger to your lips, shutting you effectively. "No buts."

Upon entering, the singer watched fondly as you scurried off to inspect some sneakers.

"First clothes, then we can look at them shoes," he urged, pulling you to the garments section.

Knowing it was pointless to argue, you follow him without words.

"Now lets see," the man picked out pair of parachute pants from the hanger, placing them before you as if he was dressing up a doll. "Looks good, we'll try," he shrugged.

"Are you buying them for me?"

"Who else, love," he replied, inspecting some shirts.

"Then how do you know my size? What if it doesn't fit?"

Mingin smriked, leaning down to your ear. "Have you forgotten all the nights I've held that waist of yours when I fucked you deep?"

Choking, you hit him, scurrying away from him. "Pervert," you point.

"You know me too well," he smirked.

The man dargged you each section, picking out clothes that he thinks will fit and you'll like, adding them to the bag. "This, this and this," he pointed at some crops. "Which one?"

You shrug. "Don't they all look the same?"

"Girl, you're gonna make my head hurt," Mingi sighed, adding all three to the bag. "Those are different colors!"

You were about to protest but Mingi suddenly pressed his lips to yours, rendering you speechless. "No buts, remember?"

And your favorite part - the sweats. "This," you point at one. Mingi smiled. It was the first time you chose something for yourself that afternoon.

"Alright," he smiled, taking them from your hands.

Seeing you stand there satisfied with your pick, Mingi nudged you lightly. "Go on. You need more."

Smiling, you skipped as you went through the dozens of options. Picking one and another. "Good," Mingi commented when he saw how many you picked. "Now you will not steal my sweats," he praised, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Who says I won't?" you grin.

After your much-needed shopping spree, Mingi stopped by an ice cream truck. "Care for an ice cream?"

"If I ever say no to that, shoot me in the head," you say before jumping out the door.

Smiling, he followed you like a lovesick fool.

do not copy, steal or translate my work on any other sites. All rights belongs to yup-thats-me© on tumblr

⋆.𐙚˚reqs are openᝰ.ᐟ

[wisteria-lodge]

From a Watsonian standpoint, who do you think fell in love first between Grindelwald and Dumbledore? What about each other do you believe made them gravitate towards one another?

I think Dumbledore fell first, and Grindelwald fell harder.

Eighteen year old Albus is… lonely. It’s a loneliness coming from a few places. One is his own brilliance: Nicholas Flamel is maybe at his level, he’s a mentor slowly becoming a professional peer... but he’s all the way over in Italy. Elphias Doge? Half in love with Albus, half in hero-worship. That’s a problem Albus will have his entire life. He’s got people who worship him, and people work for him. But very few people who actually consider themselves to be his equal. 

Albus’ other problem is the way he’s hiding a pretty brutal home life. Ariana is dangerous and unstable (the rumors are that his sister's a squib, but he can’t confirm or deny that.) The only reason people don’t think of Albus as the son of Percival Dumbledore the Muggle killer is because Albus’ own accomplishments really are that extreme. He is the shining golden child so people don’t look too closely at what's going on within his family. No part of Albus wants to be at home with them - he wants to be away at school, he wants to be on a European tour with Elphias Dosge (and don’t tell me Elphias wasn’t low-key footing most of the bill for that trip…) 

But then his mother dies/is killed by Ariana, Albus becomes responsible for his brother and sister. Because Ariana can’t be moved, that means he’s also effectively tied to Godric’s Hollow. It’s stressful. It’s boring. Albus has no one to talk to.

And then Gellert moves in. It must’ve felt like the sun breaking through clouds. He’s beautiful. He’s fascinating. He’s on Albus’ intellectual level. And he’s not suck like Abus is. No, he’s driven, he has plans, he has incredibly grand hopes for the future. Albus would take one look at him and be - this is it. You are the answer. We are going to discover the secrets of the universe together.

Now Gellert has recently been kicked out of school for dark magic related activities, and is effectively lying low in Godric’s Hollow. But honestly, he kind of wiggled out of any serious consequences. If anything, his mindset is probably more “I’ve already learned everything Drumstrang had to teach me. Good riddance. Now I just have to wait, and think about my next move.” 

Seeing Albus for the first time probably wouldn’t have blown his socks off. Gellert (as Harry tells us, multiple times) is very handsome, while Albus is probably more… interesting looking. Good looking in an unconventional way. But Albus is clever, and would have found out who exactly his new neighbor was very quickly. He’d hear about the dark magic and… not care. Probably just be more intrigued. Albus is desperate for someone to talk to, and whatever dark magic Gellert was up to, I’m sure it had to at least be interesting. 

So Albus tracks down Gellert, and he’s asking all of these questions. All these really good questions. At first Gellert is flattered (also, he can tell that Albus has a crush on him. That’s not especially unusual, if you’re Gellert Grindlewald.)  

But once he spends a little more time with him, I think he starts getting a little awed by Albus. This isn’t like Elphias Dodges’ hero worship, this is 'I want to put Albus Dumbledore in a jar and study him.' How can he be this good? How can his well of knowledge be so deep? How does he pick up everything I show him so fast…and immediately start adding improvements. How is he able to solve these magical problems and conundrums that I’ve been struggling with so easily?

Albus starts trusting him a little bit more. He doesn’t tell anyone about the details surrounding his father attacking the muggles, or about what’s going on with Ariana. But he tells Gellert. He tells him about the pressure he feels being responsible for them. How he can’t help resenting the way his family ties him down. He wants things to be different so badly, but doesn’t know what he's supposed to do.

I think that getting to see Albus’ vulnerability this way, his darkness, his cracks - things which he doesn’t show anyone - is what gets Gellert properly falling in love with him. Albus saw his darkness and didn’t back off, and now Gellert gets to return the favor. He probably starts getting a little romantic about all this, starts attributing the fact that they met to fate, thinks of Albus as this wonderful gift the universe is giving to him… but then Gellert’s perspective kind of shifts, and he starts believing that really he’s Albus‘ gift. He’s meant to save Albus, because it’s a crime that anyone this extraordinary should truly think that they’re trapped, and that their life needs to stay so small. 

He convinces Albus to leave, says they'll be able to take Ariana with them. I bet Gellert believes it too. He and Albus are so powerful, so talented, so knowledgeable, so off the charts in every way - what could Ariana possibly do that the two of them wouldn't be able to handle? 

But then, of course, the duel happens. Ariana dies (and I do think it was probably Albus who accidentally killed her.) We know that Gellert ran right after this. But I think  this is a situation where Albus is in shock, Gellert is grabbing his arm, dragging him towards the door, saying - we’ve got to get out of here. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine, I can fix this.

Albus can’t do it. He did wrong, and he has to face his punishment (a punishment I don’t think he ever feels he actually received. The closest he gets is Aberforth breaking his nose at the funeral, which is why he lets it stay broken.) There’s a lot of dark, sticky stuff in Albus Dumbledore's psyche. Stuff I don’t think he’ll ever let anyone see - both because he’s so hyper-competent he can mask it, and because it is his job to protect people (that’s the only thing he thinks he’s good for…)  Showing people his darkness and weakness, the way he showed it to Gellert - that is the opposite of protecting them.

If he’s honest with himself, I do think there’s a part of Albus that wishes he had been weaker, that he had run with Grindelwald that day. Best case scenario - maybe he could’ve influenced him, steered him down a better path (does that mean the blood of Grindelwald‘s victims is on his hands?) but more realistically… I think Albus knows that he and Grindelwald would have eventually had a falling out. Maybe not for a couple of years. Maybe Albus could’ve ignored the red flags that long. Maybe he could have had a few years - running around Europe, being young, powerful, and in love. 

Instead, Albus goes back to Hogwarts to hide. Because he can’t trust himself anymore. He can’t trust his judgment, he can’t trust himself with any kind of power. News of Grindelwald comes every day. He’s becoming more powerful. Dumbledore could stop him - but doesn’t. I think he’s worried that he saw Grindelwald again… (if Grindelwald is still in love with him…) (of course Grindelwald is still in love with him...) If Gellert asked him to leave Hogwarts and come with him, Albus is worried that he might say yes.

But in the end, Dumbledore does face him. Grindelwald fights him with the Elder Wand, but Dumbledore still wins. I like to think it’s because Gellert just cannot bring himself to kill him. Cannot bring himself to imprison him. He loves Albus too much. Albus is a work of art he cannot bring himself to destroy or lock away.

But Albus is prepared to lock Grindelwald up. So the Elder Wand - who always knows who has the power in a dynamic - becomes Albus.’ He defeats Grindelwald, and then uses Grindelwald’s wand the rest of his life. He’s buried with it.  I do think that Albus' intention was to die the wand’s last true master, both as a favor to the world, but also as a kind of romantic gesture. Because what is Voldemort compared to Grindelwald? Voldemort doesn’t deserve that wand. Gellert dies, tortured and killed by Voldemort, refusing to give up Albus, laughing. Because he knows how good Albus is. He knows how brilliant he is. He knows how ice cold he is. And (if Gellert is honest with himself) that only makes him love Albus more. After all, he was right. Albus really was a force of nature who took over the world without anyone realizing. Voldemort doesn’t stand a chance.

[fallendemon6000]

Episode 9 - No Itinerary and a Sweet Return - Final Chapter.

That trip hadn’t been planned.

Maybe like all the best things.

No itinerary, no constraints, no signatures at the bottom, this time they had just taken it and… let it go.

They had trusted the wind, the road, a black Bentley that knew every curve even without maps.

The night had been full of comfortable silences, jokes exchanged without needing explanations, and sincere laughter that bounced between the stone and wood walls of the small refuge found along the coast.

They had kept their drunken pact, made centuries before between half-empty glasses and eyes full of dreams.

“One day, just the two of us, away from it all.”

And now there they were.

Really away.

Dawn surprises them from behind the chapel. Behind them, a sky that opens up in a golden pink, warm like an ancient caress. In front, the landscape breathes slowly.

Crowley has his hands in his pockets and his sunglasses on. Aziraphale huddles in his oversized, accidentally miraculously healed coat. And the Queen T-shirt underneath warms his heart.

A: "I thought “having fun” meant… something else."

C: "I could teach you. But no rides. And no picnics. Maybe a casino holdup. Or stealing an ice cream from a cherub."

Aziraphale laughs, that bright, round laugh that Crowley had forgotten how much he missed.

He comes closer and bumps into him with his shoulder, softly.

A: "I trust you. But no robberies. Maybe an ice cream and a picnic, though..."

The sun really starts to rise. Neither of them speaks.

They look.

They breathe.

And they understand that, maybe, it's time to go home.

Maybe they don't even know what "home" means anymore.

But maybe... maybe it's there, outside that chapel, in the light of dawn, in the too-large Queen shirt, and in two laughs that have been answering each other for ages.

The sweet morning breeze penetrates the windows of the Bentley.

Aziraphale looks out then something catches his attention.

Aziraphale's eyes are wide, his finger pointing at the low cliff in the distance

A: "Crowley... look over there."

Crowley doesn't turn around right away. He continues on, as if he hadn't heard.

But then he stops the car, one hand on the wheel and the other adjusting his glasses on his nose.

C: "Hmm? What, another cake shop?"

Aziraphale doesn't laugh, but smiles.

His eyes are fixed on a building sitting on the shore, half hidden by a grove of trees bent by the wind.

A cottage.

A little chipped by time, but solid. The tiles are scattered here and there, the facade cracked, but the porch seems large.

The windows are large.

And it seems... empty.

A: "It's beautiful. It has... it has character. And just the right amount of space. For two."

Crowley finally follows her gaze, his dark glasses shielding his eyes, but the smile that lights up just a little at the corner of his mouth does not go unnoticed.

Aziraphale, however, says nothing.

C: "Character." That's what we call the cracks in the walls now?"

Aziraphale laughs softly, as if he knows that yes, they are already imagining it: A lit fireplace, a teapot on the stove. A place to fix together. And Crowley, without saying it, is already thinking about it.

He already sees the crooked chairs, the rock music at low volume, and an angel arranging books in an order all his own.

Aziraphale turns to look at him again, his eyes shining with unspoken hope.

A: "I'm not saying now. But... I'll keep it in mind."

C(murmurs, without looking at him): "Go ahead."

The wheels kick up a bit of dust as the ocean sparkles in the distance.

Aziraphale looks closer and closer at the cottage.

A(excitedly): "Look, look! Isn't it adorable? A little... rough, but with character!"

C: "Yes. 'Lovely' is the first word that comes to mind when I see crumbling walls, broken glass, and a mailbox that looks like a hanged toad."

A: "Hey, what happened to the phrase 'these walls remind me of us' ?"

Crowley ignores him, Aziraphale gets out of the car and approaches the porch. He tries the handle: the door creaks... but opens.

A: "Oh, it's open! That's a sign!"

C: "Yes, a sign that someone forgot to lock it in 1974."

INSIDE THE COTTAGE...

Dust dances in the rays of sunlight filtering through the broken windows. It's bare, but spacious. An old kitchen, a small living room with a fireplace, stairs that lead to an upper floor.

A(rubs hands together, determined):"I... I think we could fix it. A little miracle here and there... nothing too flashy."

Crowley turns around, observing with a critical eye. Then he notices an old, sagging armchair in front of the fireplace.

C(with a half smile):"You know, I can see you sitting there with a cup of tea, a book, and two mismatched tartan socks."

A:"Really?"

C(shrugs):"Yeah. And then I can see you moving all the furniture around for twelve hours because "the light doesn't hit the cover well.""

A(laughing):"Only if it's a hardback."

They exchange a look.

It's full of a new complicity, quiet, built in small acts: in shared silence, in dust, in the uncertain future.

C(quietly): "I thought we'd just... hide a little."

A(serious): "And instead?"

C: "And instead maybe... we're finding something."

Silence.

Then, slowly, Crowley takes off his glasses.

Aziraphale looks at him in surprise, because those eyes, now living gold, are rare to see for so long, so close.

A(soft voice): "It can be home, even just for a little while. If we want it to be."

C(looking out the window): "Okay. But no flowered curtains."

A(very serious): "Only if you ask nicely."

They both burst out laughing.

The cottage creaks softly, as if in approval.

Outside, the sea brings its waves to touch the shore.

Far from London, far from everything.

A light rain begins, Crowley and Aziraphale look out the window.

In the distance thick rain clouds are approaching.

C: "Something tells me we're going to be here for a while."

A: "Well, we might as well... make ourselves comfortable."

Crowley gives a silly laugh, as if he was thinking of something else with that 'let's get comfortable'.

The wind is blowing hard outside.

The storm has just started, the fireplace is burning warmly.

The entire cottage seems wrapped and protected by a miracle.

Aziraphale sits reading with a blanket over him, Crowley lies on the couch with his legs dangling and a glass half full.

Silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock that Crowley has miraculously agreed not to destroy, for now.

They remain silent for hours and hours, but it is pleasant not awkward. Then Aziraphale closes his book and puts his glasses on the book.

He looks at Crowley, his eyes are closed, the glass is resting nearby, now empty. His hands behind his head. Calm.

A(after a long silence): "I think it's time to go back."

C(eyes closed): "Go back? Where exactly?

A(quietly): "To London. To the bookshop. To... our life."

Crowley makes a dramatic gesture with his hands indicating the entire cottage.

C(without opening his eyes): "I thought this was our life, lately."

A(sighs): "It was. And it still is. But we can't stay here forever. And this isn't even our place, really."

C(opens an eye, stares at him): "No. It's true. But we can remember how it was. And smile about it."

A: "Did you like it?"

C(raises an eyebrow): "Burning the clothes? Yes."

A(serious): "No. Everything else."

Crowley sits up, sits next to him on the couch. He doesn't answer right away. He watches the fire crackle.

C(sincere): "I liked remembering that we can... escape. Just the two of us. I liked seeing you... like this. Light."

A(smiles, shyly): "And I loved seeing you... letting go. For a while."

They rest their foreheads against each other, closing their eyes, while their hands touch their shoulders and back. It's a beautiful angelic/demonic comfort.

C(after a sigh):"It'll never be easy, will it?"

A(exchanges a look with him):"No. But it's never been our style."

C(twitches a smile):"Then let's go back. London awaits us, with its malfunctioning traffic lights, arrogant pigeons and... the smell of old paper."

A(laughs):"And my bookshop."

C(lightheartedly):"Which I will invade every day, reminding you that your tea sucks."

A(in an affectionate tone):"And I'll make you a cup every night anyway."

They smile at each other.

Then they take the blanket and lie down in front of the fireplace, falling asleep with the rustling of the rain, the light of the lightning and the sound of the thunder.

THE NEXT DAY...

The Bentley is loaded again, more or less. Crowley is wearing his glasses again and Aziraphale is still wearing his black Queen shirt.

The sky is clear, the air salty.

They are about to get in the car, but they turn one last time towards the cottage.

The sea reflects the pale light of the sun.

C(softly): "We could go back someday. When the world has tired us again."

A(hugs his coat): "Someday. And maybe this time we'll bring some decent wine."

They get in the car. The Bentley's engine roars with complicity.

A(quietly): "Thank you, Crowley."

C(as he shifts into gear): "For what?"

A: "For following me, even when it wasn't easy."

C(looks at the road): "Always, angel."

They set off.

The journey is long and silent.

The Bentley drives off along the coastal roads, the sun behind them and towards their beloved and hated London.

The journey is about to end.

But something new has just begun.

[chiming-bluebells]

SHIFTERS BURN BOOK.

LEXI aka chiming-bluebells !!

NOTES IN THE MARGINS this page in the burn book is dedicated to the girl with charcoal smudged fingers and half-a-broken sketchbook. the one who goes by lexi. i’ve followed her for about a week. here are my observations:

MONDAY: today i saw her absolutely transfixed flipping through a picture book of john bauer’s artwork. and she keeps smiling whenever she spots a dragonfly, what’s up with that ????

WEDNESDAY: she either writes too much or nothing at all. once she does start writing however, she won’t stop until she’s finished. obsessive. crazy. has she ever heard of taking breaks?

THURSDAY: she yawns alot.

SUNDAY: she keeps going on and on about her realities. one look at her account, and it’s not hard to figure out which ones are her favourites. here is what i’ve gathered so far:

THE MAZE RUNNER once upon a time — believe it or not — lexi didn’t share much about her life in her maze runner dr. it was all locked up in notion scripts and curated pinterest boards, spotify playlists and car-ride daydreams. but then, one fateful day, a curious soul on tumblr sent lexi an ask regarding her maze runner reality…. and the floodgates to hell opened all at once. she has now, if i were to guess, gained the reputation as ”that one crazy maze runner lady” on shiftblr. i mean, c’mon… she even has a masterlist.

legend has it that she was obsessed with the franchise as a freshly-turned 15 year old (this, as i’m now about to explain to you, was in her pre-shifting era,, and also deep into her wattpad phase. canon event, i fear). surprisingly, her craze for the trilogy waned right before finding out about shifting at age 16. she had another dr (now archived and covered in dust) for most of her initial shifting journey. but, years later, after she had almost given up on shifting for good: she suddenly remembered, re-watched, fell in love all over again…….and found her way back home, not only to the maze runner, but also to shifting.

when it comes to her tmr dr, lexi is soul-bonded to the crying girl from mean girls (2004); she just wants a cake made out of rainbows and smiles. the emotional attachment she has for her people has made her unable to even hear the word ”canon” being uttered. she is allergic to that word. canon doesn’t exist. it’s not real. it never happened. there’s no proof. shut up huh, what was that? must’ve been the wind……

FANTASY / TERABITIA when she was a little sprout, lexi was emotionally and spiritually destroyed one humid summers day. she had just watched ”bridge to terabithia”, and she was never the same after that. desiring a better ending, and already in love with the chronicles of narnia and the fables told in her childhood, she wanted her own fairytale kingdom… so, she created one. together with her friends she spent her time outside of school in magical play-pretend (was it pretend? or was it a prelude?). but, time goes on and people grow up. she was no longer princess of terabitia anymore. at least not consciously.

now then, she finally found her own wardrobe (reality shifting) to her fantasy kingdom. and this time she won’t grow out of it. seems like the childhood play-pretend truly was a prelude, after all.

MOUNTAIN GETWAY no matter how much she tries, lexi will never be a city girl — her heart forever belongs to nature; far away from the hustle and bustle of the cities, the towering buildings blocking out the sun, and the crowds of stressed-out people. her mountain getaway dr includes everything she loves most: her favourite people, solitude and silence, cozy cabins, mountains, pine tree forests, nearby lakes and rivers, road trips, hiking, and a soft, pressure-free life.

FISHERMAN’S DAUGHTER remember how i said her heart belongs to nature? that includes the ocean. if she could live by the seashore she would (and she will). her fisherman’s daughter dr is an ode to fjords and fishing villages, to the sea and the salt in humid, ocean air. she is, as the name of this dr suggests, the daughter to a fisherman.

MARAUDERS / HOGWARTS when she turned 11, lexi anxiously awaited her hogwarts acceptance letter. it never came, at least not in this reality, and she was horribly disappointed. at 14 she was knees-deep in the marauders trench: tumblr headcanons, fanfiction, you know the deal. now, she would be lying if she said that she had a script for this dr. she doesn’t. not even a pinterest board. that doesn’t stop her from having ideas, however:

she always knew she’d be sorted into ravenclaw. she wants to be an animagus, specifically a parrot/cockatiel one (she relates perhaps a bit too well to them) nicknamed chatty or pompon. and she definitely wants to create mischief with the marauders. perhaps it’s finally time for her to create a script, or at the very least a pin board.

[ previous page <- page ix. -> next page ]

thank you @rrezshifts for the tag!! <33 here are my (no pressure!!) tags for the shifters burn book event: @lolashifts , @salemisha & @lyraxnova !!! (and anyone else who wants to participate !!!!!!)

follow the GUIDE BOOK for help!

[mossyscavern]

Surface pressure

_______________

“Elita! Wait, we found a message-.”

“Pax! Bee!” Dee shouts, pulling the two away as the crate fell. “This bot is crazy! Who is she?!” Bee shouts, clinging to D for dear life.

“Dead end, elita!” Orion shouts, watching as she was about to go to a dead end. “No way-…” he says as she proves him wrong by opening a hatch from above. “Eeeeh, well she’s gone.”

The three bots climbed up, Orion taking the lead, D followed behind with b-127 clinging onto his back, scared to look down at the height. The three got out, following elita-1 before debris started to flown against them.

All of them clung onto the railing as the train set itself right up. Orion saw his chance and grabbed elita by her ankle joint. “Gotcha!”

Elita turned, just as she was about to punch Orion, she stopped. Looked around her new surroundings, as well as Orion, D and B.

They all saw the jagged edges form in front of them, beautiful metallic stone shining brightly as the sun rises in the horizon beside them as the train goes straight ahead. The four bots in awe at the scenery.

“The surface.” D-16 sighs, breathless and in great awe. “It’s… beautiful.” Elita voices out, optics continuing to stare. “I’m… speechless.” B finishes, resting his helm on d-16’s shoulder joint, the miner smiles warmly at the contact.

“Elita, listen to me… we know where the matrix of leadership is-.”

“Oh, sure. And I’m really a prime, I just prefer to stocking crates of toxic-…” she stops, seeing Orion with an actual map. “Woah… where did you get this?” She asks, looking at both the map and Orion-.

“From my friend Steve! He’s dead…” bee spoke up. Elita shook her helm and blinked with surprise, looking over Orion’s shoulder plate.

“… am I seeing things or… is that a sparkling?” She asks, pointing to b as d-16 lowed down to the ground b finally let go, landing on his little-too big peds.

“Hi! You kicked me in the air!”

He says unprompted, causing d to snort and muffle his laughter. “… I didn’t.” She says, shaking her helm in disbelief.

“You did, you very did I’m surprised Dee kept-. Never mind.” Orion said, now looking at his best friend… who is staring at her with deadly daggers for optics. “… oh primus, I did.” She said softly, covering her intake.

“It’s ok! I’m ok, no dents, see!” He said, stretching his arms out, waving them a bit with a big smile. “N’aww.” Orion coo’s smiling goofily at b.

“Ok as adorable as this is, I am not going to get demoted. Again! Because of you!” She says pointedly at Orion.

“I am turning this rig around and notifying the proper-.”

“Hey, hey guys! What’s that?” Dee asks, pointing the forming rocks in the distance. “Is it, getting bigger?” Dee asks first.

“Or… closer?” Elita-1 finishes.

Their answer came as soon as they heard b’s little clumsy ped steps, then a loud beeping as the other ran as well, with b-127 trying to run ahead before tripping over his own peds with a thud.

This got Orion to scoop up the sparkling. “I gotcha, lil fella. Hold on tight.” He says, holding him protectively against his chassis.

B-127 did as told and held on as Orion ran ahead. One thing lead to another when that hatch closed, it lead d-16, elita-1 holding on and Orion pax holding both b-127 and the railing. The ride is increasingly bumpy, rocks closing in and caused some damage.

Those last few bumps lead the bots flying. And the last thing the bots saw while in the air was a horrifying sight.

Orion had lost his grip as the sparkling went flying, his restarlueus waving in front of him before reaching out for the three bots.

Wide eyed bright blue meeting Terrified blue and yellow optics…

Then everythings went black.

_______________

*hands clasped together* *inhales*

I’m so sorry for taking the things that were said in the original movie out. And of that last bit too… I made that one way to dramatic-. But yes I’m still doing @yuukirita’s babybee au.

… wait-. Shoot I could’ve done it where they had entered the train! Oh it shall be a prequel then.

[dearweirdme]

Im pretty sure they are filming AYS but not in the way people are thinking. I don't think they're filming an entire season. I think if they're filming it's like one last long final/finale episode, that's like "oh this is us post enlistment" mainly cause the whole show was about "blah blah" we're going into the military together so to me the natural conclusion would be "this is us now" but I dont think its gonna be another season just like a slightly longer episode /movie ish type thing.

Hi anon!

Ah, that is possible yeah I agree. I am curious about the Japan trip they both took, and also if they went to US as well.

[dataentryspecialist]

News traveled quickly aboard the Enterprise. While the vessel was one of the largest constructed by Starfleet, it was still ultimately a small town of--at the moment--one thousand, four hundred and three people of various sentient species. Paired with Data's impeccable hearing, it didn't take long at all for the android to overhear the good news of his dear friends.

The android's brow had raised in surprise at the news, but (having heavily studied all available literature on humanoid romantic relationships with a focus on human mating habits in particular) Data understood this to be a most happy occasion. Therefore, he was pleased to hear it. In a manner of speaking.

What he hadn't expected was Keiko flagging him down in the hallway as he made his rounds before heading up to the bridge to begin the night shift.

"Data!" The botanist called out, dimples deeply set in her cheeks from the wide smile she carried with her. "Wait!"

The android halted immediately, turning curiously to face his friend. "Hello Keiko. What can I do for you?"

Her smile somehow grew even wider. For Data, it elicited memories of reading passages where the human smile was given an illuminating effect, capable of shedding light upon an entire room. Keiko darted out her left hand, palm down, and it was easy to notice the brilliant gemstones that adorned the ring on what is colloquially referred to as a 'wedding finger.'

"Miles and I are getting married!" She exclaimed happily.

Data noted the sparkles flying from the ring, his gaze taking in the prismatic show. A part of his positronic brain began processing the information and analyzing the unique composition required to create such a view. Another part considered what paints and combinations he would need to utilize in order to capture such an effect on canvas. Meanwhile, his eyes lifted up from the ring to the equally bright eyes of his friend. "Yes, I have heard. Congratulations."

Keiko's smile turned cheeky. "Of course you already heard. You and those android ears."

Data's brow folded somewhat apologetically. "They are the only ears I possess."

Keiko laughed brightly, shaking her head and patting the android on the shoulder. "Data I didn't stop you just to brag."

"You did not?" Data asked, his head quirking curiously.

Keiko shook her head again. "Mm-mm. I have a *very* important question to ask you."

Data's eyebrows rose high up on his forehead, his curiosity thoroughly piqued. "Of course. You may ask me anything you wish, Keiko."

"Well..." said, feeling the need to explain such an important request. "Miles and I plan to hold a wedding with our families the next time the Enterprise is near earth, but we also don't want to wait that long. Especially when assignments change last minute and we may end up canceling the trip to go who-knows-where. So we were thinking of holding a small ceremony here. With our friends. Captain Picard has already agreed to officiate."

Data nods in understanding. "That would be appropriate. As captain of the vessel, he is authorized to officiate unions taking place aboard the Enterprise."

"Exactly!" Keiko replied. "Miles is asking Geordi to be his best man. But I wanted to ask if you would participate too."

Data's eyebrows turned upward confusedly. "As your maid of honor?"

Keiko released another bright laugh. Had it held physical form, if may have sparkled as much as the jewels now adorning her hand. "No! As the father of the bride!"

Data blinked, taken aback. "But... we are not related."

"I know that, Data," Keiko replied, her mouth still quirked in a smile, "but I don't want to walk down the aisle alone. Considering it was you who introduced Miles and me in the first place, we both think it just makes sense for you to be the one to guide me down the aisle. Just like you guided us together in the first place."

Data's brow flashed as his lower lip jutted out just a bit, the android considering the logic of her request. For a moment he seemed willing to accept, mouth opening and taking a breath. However, he paused, eyes taking on a wary look. "Would you not prefer someone more familiar with human weddings? Someone who is human, themself? Commander Riker, perhaps?"

Keiko shook her head. "I don't want anyone else, Data. I want YOU. There's no one else I trust more to step into the role."

"Hm!" Data seemed genuinely surprised by this answer, looking to the side as he considered this new information. His golden gaze then snapped back, meeting her dark eyes. "Then I accept. It would be my honor."

Keiko squealed, clapping her hands happily before wrapping her arms fully around Data in a warm hug.

The android showed clear yet subdued surprise at her behavior, but allowed her to display it, seeing it was clearly coming from a place of joy. He allowed her to pin his arms to his sides with her hug and when she kissed his cheek, he did not seek an explanation as to why. Although the behavior did seem a bit baffling.

"Thank you, Data!" Keiko said as she pulled back. "Now I've got to go see Mot about my hair."

She began to step backward and then turned to go, calling over her shoulder, "I'll let you know when we plan to do rehearsals!"

***

Keiko stepped out of the barbershop after three straight hours of checking out different hair styles and even colors for her big day. She didn't plan to dye her hair, really, but when Mr. Mot gets going, it's hard to get him to stop.

Sighing with fatigue, but happiness still fluttering in her heart, she walks down the hallway towards home.

The botanist suddenly stops in her tracks, snapping her fingers as a thought occurs to her. "Shoot! I forgot to ask Data if he knew about the father daughter dance..."

She looks the other way down the hall, considering going to find him or reach out via comms. But he's likely on the bridge right now in the middle of his shift. It doesn't seem professional to bother him with this.

Stifling a yawn, she continues towards home. "I'm sure I'll remember to tell him tomorrow..."

If I could see one off screen moment from TNG it would be how Data came to fill the role of father of the bride for Keiko at her wedding. Did she ask him? Did she mention feeling sad her real father couldn't be there and he offered? I NEED TO KNOW.

[respectthepetty]

So before I dive into the colors of The Next Prince's seventh episode (which was LONGER THAN AN ENTIRE KOREAN BL!!!!), I need to appreciate our Pink Princess Ava.

Her weakness is she doesn't rest. While Ramil is living his BRAT summer and Khanin is trying to get his loyal guard to disrespect him, homegirl is out there practicing to the point that her own coach is like, "girl, calmate."

She even went to go check on Khanin which is queen behavior and if Khanin magically wins this competition, I'm gonna be big mad.

Also, she thought Blue Boy Calvin went to the bathroom and ditched them while no one seemed concerned with where a whole ass prince disappeared to, so I'm hoping he joins his man's cause and decides the entire monarchy should be dismantled.

But if not, at least someone threaten Khanin into treating my babyboy Chakri better because my little button of a man has never done anything wrong, yet Khanin continues to be real rude and disrespectful to him to the point that I'm about to hit him with the chancla.

Okay, now that I got all of that out of the way, let me begin at the beginning which is exactly where the previous episode ended — with a kiss.

Yet the next day, Black Brooder Charan is in avoidance mode until Heavenly Human Khanin reminds everyone that THEY WERE ATTACKED OUTSIDE OF THE CLUB

And strangely enough, King Kunt, who is normally light, is wearing dark clothing as he decides to punish Charan for, once again, saving his grandson's life as well as Pink Princess Ava's because he was the only bodyguard present to watch over FOUR royal beings and their TWO royal servants. Like the math ain't math, motherf*cker! Charan can't be punished for saving everyone all the time!!!!!

Which leads to Khanin holding grief for Charan as he wears Charan's silver and black colors over his usually white. (But if he really wanted to stick it to the grandfather who lied to him and his biological father their whole lives, he could chuck the deuces to this competition and leave his granddaddy high and dry. I'm just saying).

But it's okay because Charan is still hot and still a Black Brooder in the stables where he has been banished to like an animal even though he is a highly-respected art professor who was plunked out of his job to a be pawn in King Kunt and Khanin's battle of bullshit.

No, really, it's okay though because Khanin is wearing Charan's black, so love is going to solve this narrative.

Or perhaps Khanin winning this competition will be the solution *grumble, grumble, grumble* since he is practicing so hard. However, now I need to see Ramil's archery skills because the fletching on Ava's arrows was pink, and the fletching on Khanin's arrows is white, so Ramil's better be green or he's bs-ing.

But IF Khanin wins, it won't be with this coach because our Heavenly Human knows this man is sus af, and this is one time that I'm proud of Khanin pulling rank since he acted just as offended as a rich white woman from Texas when that man put his hands on him. That coach will never be back at this country club even if Khanin has to fight God herself.

And Khanin's loyal butler (who Khanin does not treat nearly as good as he should!!!!) has his back. My little button spoke with his whole chest to that coach. He may be smol, but he be mighty.

However, it's a good thing Charan, in white, is watching over the scene unfold since he is the ONLY person who can save any of these people.

But he was almost a second too late, so now Khanin gets to take a peaceful two to three business day nap while the rest of the plot continues around him.

Now the granddaddy wants to show up acting like a savior in white pardoning everyone even though this was ALL HIS FAULT! He actually says it was his fault too, so, like, good for him. I still hate him though.

Somehow, Charan, who is the most capable individual in this whole kingdom, caught the horrible coach who poisoned his future baby daddy and shows he is the true savior as he decides to not kill the man right then and there, but instead chooses to let him live for future questioning.

But the only question Green Guy Ramil has is if Khanin is dead yet. Paytai, in the most beautiful soft green suit, delivers the bad news that unfortunately Khanin is not dead, and with this simple exchange, they have solidified that they are the Gomez and Morticia Addams of Khanin and Charan's Disney love story.

So back to Charan and Khanin as the birds sing songs around them and the heavens shine brightly upon their love.

No, seriously, I get it. The Blinding Light of Love is practically enveloping Charan. Khanin thinks he is the sun and his whole life revolves around him. Charan can't live without his Heavenly Human. Yeah, yeah, yeah. They're in love.

And Khanin is so happy to learn that Charan has been "keeping vigil" (I love that translation) by his bedside morning, noon, night, and day.

So, of course, he has to make a big deal of it.

Which means Charan has to too. Gomez and Morticia of the Green House of Snakes would be miserable if they had to witness this.

The Black Brooder takes it even a step further though and decides to wash his Heavenly Human's hair because he didn't already have enough duties on his ever-growing list of responsibilities.

But the caring act was worth it because now that they are back in Khanin's room, there is a hint of pink lighting setting the mood.

Which means now is the perfect time for Khanin to attack!

I mean . . . gently ease Charan into abandoning all he has ever known so he can finally taste the forbidden fruit he has so desperately wanted.

But first, Charan must apologize for the disrespect he is about to show Khanin's body.

And with that, we are reminded that when the devil works hard, the GIF makers work harder.

Now let me go reblog this scene eighty times.

[seongpinkhwa]

it really is crazy because i genuinely graduated high school and decided to just blow every single cent i had on travelling

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[carpesabrina]

"Mhmm yes, no killing people. We'll think of a single if I'm super uncomfortable need you to like beat someone up. Maybe scrunching my nose." She said. It had to be something that she didn't do often, but something that he could still see when he was pretty far away from her. "I promise if you took me to a crappy place, I'd still fuck you. Just more of a comfy bed makes it better." She teased. She tilted her head as she thought about the names that he was labelling off for her. She was all for calling him daddy in the bedroom. It was sexy. But she also knew she didn't want to be called anything like mommy or mama. She was aware those were popular in that community, but she could never see herself being called that when it came to intimacy. "Not mama or queen." She told him, scrunching her nose as she thought about the other two that he said. "Maybe Mistress. Ohh or goddess. Because I'm already your goddess." She laughed at the thought of the cops getting called on them. "Oh god, no. Could you imagine we're both standing their butt naked trying to convince the cops that you did not break into my room and that you're my partner? Now that would make the damn headlines on TMZ. Probably blurred pics of our bodies and all." She shook her head at the thought. It would be embarrassing in a whole, but worse because of who she was. How easy it was for something like that to come out. Which is why she was always careful when she was out in public. At least when she was sober and was thinking straight. "Send Winnie to the backyard and lock the cats up in the office. They'll be fine. for a few hours." She leaned up and kissed him again, her hand moving between them, "Round two and then sleep?" She asked as she wrapped her hand around him and started stroking him. After he agreed, Sabrina moved on top of him. After another round of making love, the two fell asleep tangled in each other's arms.

The rest of the week had went by fast between their little mexico trip and her family coming to New York. She was busy most of Saturday with the girls, and then Sunday they had a quick family dinner with her mom, sisters, and max's family. She was loving how well that their families got together. She had always worried about them clashing or just plain out hating each other. They were as different as Max and Sabrina were. But things always worked out in her favor. By the time Monday came around, Sabrina was ready for alone time with Max. Only to be reminded that they were in fact wrestling together. she was nervous about this one. When she had mentioned her fantasy about him fucking her in the ring, she was fully expecting it was gonna be that. But no, he added on the wrestling. "You're gonna be shirtless, correct? Trunks and no shirt? None of that onesie bullshit you've been rocking during Dynamite?" She asked, a hint of laughter in her voice as she spoke. Hey, if he wasn't gonna be shirtless for her during filming, he could at least do it that day so she could stare at him for a moment. Actually, him shirtless might be a bit too distracting for her. She linked her arm with his as she followed him into the building. She had been here before with him when he'd invite her to work out with him. She got to meet a few of his friends while here. Some of them sharing stories from his training days with her. She loved learning the Max he was before, even if his personality hadn't changed much in the ten years that he had been wrestling. "Alright, let me go get this gear on." She said as she grabbed the bag and went into the locker room. She changed out of her clothes and into the gear that he had gotten for her. She was worried it wouldn't look good on her body type, but it had. He knew what he was doing and she just had to trust the process. Sabrina had brought some makeup, so she did a quick layer just to spruce up her look, adding some pink eyeshadow to match the outfit she had on. And then she ran her brush through her hair. "Alright baby, I'm ready." She said as she walked out to go find Max.

Max had been through his own trauma of being called too much, too arrogant, too weird because of his condition and how he would lose his thoughts or forget what he was doing at times. Sabrina accepted him flaws and all. She had proven that at the restaurant when his brain shut down from being so nervous with all the paparazzi and body guards on what was supposed to be a romantic date. She could have laughed, broken up with him for being so weird but she didn't instead she squeezed his hand and rubbed it while giving his brain time to slow down again. He wasn't some mentally challenged person to her where all his life kids had made him feel like he was awkward and didn't belong. Wrestling had been his salvation but away from it, he was still a mess but he was her mess and she loved him regardless. He loved that she wanted him with her instead of telling him that facetime would do and flying away for months. He trusted her but he knew his mind would wonder why she didn't want him with her. They had never had to cross that bridge because she loved having him there no matter what time he got in if he was working. She was showing him not only her world but the actually world as they with country to country together. "We're on the same page baby. I'm excited to watch people try to pick you up and you shoot them down or me scare them off. I promise no killing anyone unless absolutely necessary. " He laughed thinking about Vegas, she would never let him live that down but no one touches his wife. "Has to be expensive because I can't expect to pick you up and take you to some crappy place. I want to make sure i get laid." He couldn't help but chuckle and place a kiss to her lips. "Yeah? I'm down with that. Whatever you want to do to me, you're in control. You need to think of what you want me to call you? Mistress, Lady, Queen, Mama, is there some for dominant personality you like being called?" He nods and stokes her arm and sides. "Definitely because I don't need anyone calling the cops about me breaking into a hotel or something. That would be weird and you'll be more comfortable at home for something like that. We'll have to put the babies up so they don't attack me since my face will be covered at first."