#but god damn you are so ugly and chaotic and a mess
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BREAKING THE RULES - NAMGYU
pairing: ftm namgyu x guard! top! male reader
synopsis: Nam-gyu makes life even harder in the games; and he makes sure you know it.
content warnings: 18+, slightly ooc namgyu, thanos doesn't exist here, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, mentions of pregnancy, breeding, squirting, creampie.
word count: 1.9k
Nam-gyu was a menace. Not in a violent way—no, he wasn’t the type to throw punches or scheme behind people's backs. He was just loud. Chaotic. Endlessly pushing his luck in ways that made your job infinitely harder.
You, one of the masked guards, had the misfortune of being assigned to watch over him.
“Oh, come on, do you really have to stand so close?” Nam-gyu whined, sprawled out on the cold metal bunk, looking up at you with an exaggerated pout. “You’re like my own personal shadow. It’s creepy.”
You didn’t respond. Guards weren’t supposed to talk to the players.
But Nam-gyu? He didn’t give a fuck about rules.
“Are you at least hot under that mask?” he continued, squinting up at you. “Tall, broad, mysterious—what’s under there? A secret K-drama heartthrob?”
Your lips twitched under the mask, but you stayed silent.
Then he gasped. “Wait, what if you’re ugly? Oh my god, what if you’re, like, a forty-year-old uncle with bad skin?”
You exhaled sharply, already regretting what you were about to do. “Shut up and sleep.”
Nam-gyu sat up so fast he nearly smacked his head on the bunk above. “Ohhh? He speaks! And—wait, wait, that was deep—oh my god, are you hot?”
You turned away, cursing yourself.
“Wait, at least tell me if you’re single!” he whisper-yelled.

Despite the life-or-death situation, Nam-gyu never stopped flirting with you.
During the games, when most players were drenched in sweat and panic, he still managed to shoot you little smirks like this was all some messed-up dating show.
After a particularly brutal round, he was doubled over, panting, hands on his knees. But even then, he looked up at you, grinning through the exhaustion.
“If I survive this, you owe me a date.”
“You’re not supposed to talk to me,” you reminded him.
His grin widened. “And yet… you keep answering.”

The first time you really broke the rules was when you caught him wandering the hallways after curfew.
You found him leaning casually against the wall like he wasn’t committing a punishable offense.
“You know you’re not supposed to be out,” you sighed, arms crossed.
“Oops,” he said, not looking the least bit sorry. “Guess I got lost. You're gonna punish me?”
Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. The way he leaned in slightly, the way his voice dropped lower—it was all intentional.
“Get back to your room before someone sees,” you ordered, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.
Nam-gyu tilted his head. “You gonna carry me there, big guy?”
You groaned, grabbing his arm and dragging him back to the dorms. He didn’t resist. If anything, he definitely enjoyed it.

One night, during your usual patrol, his voice whispered through the dark.
“Psst. Guard dude. Come here.”
Against your better judgment, you stepped closer to his bunk. “What?”
“You’re my favorite guard,” he murmured, a lazy grin on his lips.
“I’m the only guard who tolerates you,” you corrected.
“Exactly,” he chuckled. “That means something.”
Then, his fingers ghosted over your gloved hand. A barely-there touch.
“If I die tomorrow,” he said softly, voice losing its usual playfulness, “I just want you to know—I totally had a crush on you.”
Your heart pounded harder than it should have.

At some point, you gave in.
Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the fact that Nam-gyu was so damn persistent. But you found yourself alone with him in a supply closet one night.
“This is so against the rules,” you muttered, hands gripping his waist as he smirked up at you.
“Then why haven’t you stopped me?” he teased, breath warm against your mask.
You exhaled sharply. “Because you won’t shut up otherwise.”
“Ohhh, so this is how you make me quiet?” he grinned, fingers trailing over your chest. “Noted.”
The moment was charged, the air thick with something neither of you wanted to name. Nam-gyu was pressed against the shelves of the dimly lit supply closet, his breath uneven as he stared up at you with that maddening smirk.
"You gonna stand there all night, big guy?" he murmured, voice teasing but breathy. "Or are you actually gonna do something?"
Your grip on his waist tightened involuntarily. This was reckless—so reckless—but Nam-gyu had spent days, weeks even, pushing you to this point. Testing your patience, pulling you into his orbit, and now that he had you where he wanted you, he wasn’t about to let go.
You exhaled sharply, then tilted his chin up with two fingers. His smirk faltered, replaced by something else—anticipation, maybe.
And then you kissed him.
Nam-gyu let out a surprised noise before melting into it, arms sliding up to grip your shoulders. His lips were warm and eager, moving against yours with a desperation that made your head spin. He kissed like he talked—relentlessly, all-consuming, like he wanted to prove something.
You didn’t let him.
Instead, you took control, deepening the kiss, pressing him further against the shelves. A soft gasp escaped him when your fingers dug into his waist, grounding him. His hands fisted in your uniform, pulling you closer, as if there was any space left between you.
"You’re—so unfair," he mumbled between kisses, voice slightly dazed.
"You talk too much," you muttered, capturing his lips again before he could come up with another snarky remark.
Nam-gyu didn’t fight it. If anything, he clung to you even more, tilting his head to give you better access. His breath hitched when your hands roamed lower, fingers pressing into the curve of his back, holding him steady against you.
The heat between you was overwhelming, the danger of getting caught only making it worse. But neither of you cared. Not when he was sighing into your mouth, not when his fingers tangled in your hair, not when the world outside this little room ceased to exist.
When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. Nam-gyu blinked up at you, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"You’re really bad at following rules," he murmured, voice thick with amusement.
You exhaled, resting your forehead against his. "And you’re really bad at shutting up."
Nam-gyu grinned. "Guess we make a good team, then."
And somehow, you knew there was no going back.
When you finally pulled away, breathless and way too heated for your own good, he chuckled.
“You’re really bad at following rules,” he teased, straightening his uniform.
You adjusted your mask, trying to calm your racing heart. “And you’re really bad at shutting up.”
“Guess we make a good team, then.”
You should’ve been worried. You should’ve been more careful. But when Nam-gyu looked at you like that—like you were the only thing keeping him sane in this nightmare—you knew there was no going back.

The next morning, you tried to pretend nothing had happened.
You stood at your usual post, arms crossed, mask in place, as if Nam-gyu hadn’t kissed you breathless in a supply closet.
But he wasn’t about to let you forget. Oh no.
He sauntered into the cafeteria, stretching his arms dramatically.
“Man, I had the craziest dream last night,” he said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.
You tensed.
“So there I was, trapped in a tiny room with this huge guy,” Nam-gyu continued, resting his chin in his palm. “And let me tell you—he had strong hands. Held me real tight, y’know?”
You clenched your fists.
The other players gave him a weird look. “Uh… what kinda dream was that?”
Nam-gyu sighed, all fake wistfulness. “A good one.” Then, without looking at you, he added, “Shame it was just a dream.”
You walked out, shaking your head.

That night, you found him again where he wasn’t supposed to be—this time, loitering near the guard dorms.
“You want to get caught, don’t you?” you sighed, grabbing his arm.
“Maybe,” he grinned, stepping closer. “Or maybe I just wanted to see you.”
You tried to ignore the way your pulse jumped. “You’re reckless.”
“And you’re obsessed with following rules,” he teased, tilting his head. “Except when it comes to me.”
You really should’ve pushed him away. Instead, you backed him against the wall.
“Go back to your room,” you ordered, voice low.
“Make me,” he whispered.
And oh, you did.
Your hands slammed against the wall on either side of Nam-gyu’s head, caging him in. His breath hitched, but that damn smirk never left his face. He thrived off this—the tension, the danger, the way you always swore you wouldn’t fall for his games but did anyway.
“Say that again,” you murmured, your voice dropping into something dangerously low.
Nam-gyu’s lashes fluttered, and for the first time, a flicker of nervous excitement crossed his face. But he was never one to back down. “Make me,” he repeated, this time softer, more breathless.
Your patience snapped.
Your lips crashed against his, claiming him in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Nam-gyu gasped, his fingers instantly tangling in your uniform, gripping the fabric like he needed to steady himself. You could feel his heartbeat hammering against your own, his chest rising and falling in short, shallow breaths as you pressed even closer.
He tasted like trouble, and you had never wanted anything more.
Nam-gyu let out a muffled whimper as your hand slid down to his waist, pulling him flush against you. He was so much smaller than you, but he didn’t shy away—if anything, he leaned in, arching slightly as if daring you to take more.
Your hands trailed to the hem of his sweats, tugging them and his boxers down to reveal– his pussy? You certainly didn’t expect that.
“See– I probably should’ve mentioned this earlier but–”
You silenced him with another kiss, deeper this time, your hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. His breath hitched when your teeth grazed his bottom lip, his body trembling against you.
Hastily pulling your own pants down, you pulled out your erection– aligning it with his cunt. Common sense had gone too far out the window now– you were too horny to care.
Before he could say anything, you sheathed yourself inside of him with one swift thrust– making his head hit the wall behind him. He gasped– and you used the opportunity to press your lips to his once more, preventing him from making any of those pretty noises (which you so desperately wanted to hear– but it was too dangerous now).
You pulled out of his cunt almost all the way before slamming back in– the head of your cock almost entering his cervix. His back arched– hands gripping tightly onto your shoulders.
You thrusted in and out of him at an almost animalistic pace– being pent up for so long certainly had its advantages.
You buried your head in the crook of his neck– and used the hand that wasn’t holding him up to cover his mouth– muffling his whimpers and moans, almost divine music to your ears.
Without warning– he climaxed, squirting all over your cock and the front of your uniform. Seeing him come undone did it for you– and you released soon after– pressing into him with such ferociousness and painting his insides a pearly white that he was sure he was going to get pregnant.
After a solid minute– you slowly pulled out of him, still keeping him upright. His head sagged onto your shoulder, the exhaustion getting to his head.
The sudden sound of approaching footsteps made you freeze.
The door to the small room opened– and outside was none other than Square Guard 001.
You were fucked.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.
#nam gyu#namgyu#squid game s2#namgyu fanfic#player 124#squid game#player 124 smut#nam gyu smut#nam gyu x reader#namgyu x reader#nam gyu x male reader#namgyu x male reader#player 124 x reader#player 124 x male reader#squid game fanfiction#squid game x reader#squid game fanfic#squid game smut#namgyu smut#squid game x male reader#smut#gay#male reader#x reader#ftm character#top male reader#dom male reader
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eight : baking attempt
playin' the players



the kitchen smelled like vanilla and something just barely on the edge of burning. but in the good way.
you stood barefoot by the counter in one of rafe’s oversized sweatshirts (yes, he insisted you wear it over your clothes so yours wouldn't get dirty - what a thoughtful king -), fingers dusted in flour, laughing as you tried to rescue the slightly lopsided cupcakes.
“these are not going on my story,” you muttered.
“uh, yes they are,” rafe said from behind you, pressing close to peer over your shoulder. “these are high art. look at that one—he’s got character.”
you snorted. “he’s got third-degree burns.”
he leaned in, chin almost brushing your shoulder. “you got character.”
you glanced over at him, amused. “wow. did you just compliment me and a ruined cupcake in the same breath?”
“multi-tasking,” he grinned.
you rolled your eyes, nudging him with your hip. “you're lucky you're pretty.”
rafe laughed, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “you said that on twitter too.”
“and now i’m saying it in person. growth.”
you turned back to the counter, smoothing icing over a particularly ugly cupcake with more patience than skill. rafe reached beside you, dipping his finger into the bowl of icing.
you gasped. “don’t you dare—”
he smeared a line of frosting across your cheek before you could finish the sentence.
“rafe!”
“chef’s kiss,” he said with a wink, licking the rest off his finger like he hadn’t just declared war.
you grabbed a spoonful of icing and chased him around the island, laughing as rafe ducked behind the counter like it would actually save him. there was flour in your hair, powdered sugar on your shirt, and rafe’s hoodie sleeves pushed up as he reached for a handful of chocolate chips like ammunition.
“truce!” he shouted, half-laughing, half-dodging. “i surrender to your chaotic baking energy!”
you finally cornered him and dabbed icing on the tip of his nose with a victorious grin. “you should’ve thought about that before you attacked me.”
there was laughter, way too much flour in the air, and by the time you both slumped down onto the floor, backs against the cabinets, breathless and messy, your cheeks hurt from smiling.
and when he looked at you like that—eyes flicking from your lips to your flour-smeared cheek—you almost forgot about the movie marathon.
about jj.
about the bet.
almost.
because at the end of the day, you were just something they wanted to use. a tool to get that stupid lake house.
but god, it was so hard to be avengeful when those two hot, muscled man were chasing you like you were the last resource on earth.
rafe's hand brushed yours, fingertips dusted in flour, slow like he was giving you time to pull away. you didn’t.
"you’re kinda dangerous, y’know that?" he murmured, voice low, a little breathless. you turned your head toward him, heartbeat louder than the hum of the fridge. “me?”
“yeah.” his eyes dropped to your mouth. “you come in here, make a mess, look like a damn dream in my hoodie, and now you’re looking at me like that.”
your lips curved, slow. “like what?”
his smile twitched—sharp, boyish, full of mischief. “like you want me to kiss you.”
you tilted your head. “maybe i do.”
he didn’t need more permission than that.
his hand slid up, cradling your cheek, thumb skimming just beneath your eye. and then—soft, but steady—he kissed you. it wasn’t some frat boy bet-fueled brag. it was warm, a little messy, a little sweet, like the frosting still on your fingertips.
you let yourself get lost in it for one second.
just one.
because he kissed you like he was trying to memorize it.
slow at first—careful, warm, like he was easing into something that had been building for a while. his hand was still cupping your cheek, palm rough from hockey, fingertips gentle like you might break if he pushed too hard.
his lips tasted faintly like sugar and vanilla—whatever frosting you’d been messing with earlier—but the way he kissed didn’t feel sweet. not entirely.
it shifted quickly, deepening. from soft to hungry in a heartbeat.
his other hand slid to your waist, tugging you forward just enough that your hips brushed, flour dusting your clothes, your skin. you gasped a little into his mouth, and he took that as invitation—tilting his head, tongue brushing yours in a slow, coaxing way that made your knees go just a little weak.
he kissed like he had something to prove, but not in a desperate way. in a this is mine way. like he didn’t care if the cupcakes burned or if someone walked in. like right now, you were the only thing that mattered.
your fingers curled in the front of his hoodie, and he groaned against your mouth—barely audible but all-consuming.
you could feel the tension thrumming under his skin. like he wanted to pull you closer, lift you up onto the counter, keep going until you forgot every other boy who ever dared to try.
but instead, he eased back.
just a little.
lips brushing yours like a promise.
his breath was shallow when he finally looked at you again.
“okay,” he murmured, voice a little ragged. “that’s… yeah. that’s dangerous.”
and you weren’t sure if he meant you, or the way he just kissed you like he might not ever get another shot.
you looked at him before leaving as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with that half-lidded, with post-kiss look that made everything ten times harder. fuck.
“i’ll see you, cameron.”
“soon, right?”
you nodded. “we’ll see.”






rafe's phone



taglist : @beewritess @davinashifts333 @lanasangelsz @littlefreak-liz @drewstarkeyswife0 @lalaloopsieparty @ethanthequeefqueen @wtfisastiles @angelicameron @moth-feeet @drewstarkeyswife-7 @hiphopstar @cokewithcameron @cameronsbabydoll @chillgal135 @ayy1234567 @pogueprincesa @isinpfortvdmen @iheartrosalia @luvrclub @yesshewrites1 @sideboobrry11 @espressh0e @mysticbby2009 @arianagreenblattfanxx10 @hwaaholic @aves05 @thecolorpearl05
#lana's works𓇼#playin' the players SMAU#player! reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron social media au#rafe cameron smau#rafe cameron x reader#obx social media au#obx smau#outer banks social media au#outer banks smau#rafe cameron series#outer banks#obx#obx x reader#outer banks fic#outer banks x reader#obx au#outer banks rafe#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#drew starkey#drew starkey smau#jj fanfic#jj maybank#obx pogues#jj fanfiction#jj maybank x you#outer banks pogues
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Cup Of Sugar
Deadpool x Reader x Wolverine
Authors Note: Since Yall finally see the beauty of Poolverine, you finally get some stupid fluff. Here ya go
Sum: You were neighbors with Blind Al, and that chaotic son of hers. Recently you’ve been hearing alot of noise, and figured you check on them both. Like a good neighbor. Seems to have been just the right time
Warnings: Fluff, canon typical violence, Logan and Wade being so gay in their own way, Blind Al being a total wing woman, dogpool aprecitation post, family fluff because god dammit Mama Blind Al and her sons boyfriend with their new dog domestic fluff is needed!
“Will you two knock it off! I don’t need another damn couch in this house-!” You would hear Al shout. Not the first time, but the noise seemed so much more wild as of recent. Like some kind of badger was joining the party. Couldn’t help it with your worry. She was blind after all. So, here you are. Knocking on her door.
“Get along-! Well, or like STOP GETTING ALONG-!” You heard her snapping, before yanking the door open. “The hell you want?” She asked, before you would clear your throat.
“Hey Miss Althea-!” The moment she heard your voice she had softened into that motherly state she always had for you. Not many people in the complex really enjoyed her company, or her son’s, but you always took the time to say hi to her. Not treat her any less inferior because of her blindness.
“Oh hey baby! Come on in, get in here-!” She just beamed, and laughed. Happy to have someone new to talk to. Can get lonely, after all. From many of your conversations with her, when helping her take the groceries to her apartment, her son Wade was often on business trips. Nice to have some company.
Inside was certainly a chaotic mess. You swore someone ran around like a Tasmanian Devil in there. Pictures asque, cushions everywhere, a couch shredded like it was thrown in a blender. You were wondering what the hell happened. Was it a break in? Had you worried sick, before a bark caught your attention.
“PUPPY-!” You couldn’t stop yourself from squealing, as you knelt to the floor. Right next to the dog in her dog bed. All snuggled with plushies of what you guessed were her favorite heros, and seeming to be the one area of the apartment that escaped this fire. Least whoever attacked the home had some kind of morals.
“That ugly thing? That’s ’Mary Puppins’ as the dynamic duo calls them. She that ugly kinda cute. She always knows when you need someone to cuddle, that’s for sure. I ain’t complaining. Nice having company.” Al would explain to you, as you were hypnotized by her cuteness. Had her cradled in your arms, and giving her all the belly scratches.
“She’s perfect.” You cooed, as you gave her fluffy head a kiss. Had her barking happily at your attention. Seemed said barking finally got the attention of the two rascals in the home. A bickering of panic French was held, before you turned your head. As to see what the French was going on.
“Hey-“ A burly man would wave, before seeming to shove the other person into a bedroom. In some kind of mad panic, as if to hide them from you. For some reason.
“Oh, hey. Uh, hi.” You would stand up, Pup in hand, as you registered what you were looking at. He wasn’t the tallest man around, and honestly? Might be even shorter than yourself. Didn’t take away the fact he was built like a truck. Somehow all tucked away behind a torn up wife beater and jeans. Looked like he had been fighting someone with a set of knives. On top of knives. With more knives.
“That’s Logan. My kids new boyfriend.” Al would brush off casually, as she would find herself towards the couch. Just to sit there, and most definitely keep an ear out for the drama to happen now.
“We aren’t….It’s complicated-“ He tried to explain, before said Wade popped his cheery ass out. Having been in such a rush to join the party, he was wearing his shirt backwards. You would argue his boxers to, but a puppy keeps anyone’s attention.
“Oh hey! Peanut, that’s our neighbor. About time you met the sweetheart. Don’t do anything Logany. Or do, kinda a freak. Just saying-“ He would nudge at the shorter man, as said man rolled his eyes.
“Hey Wade-! When did you get this little girl? And uh, the hell happened here?” You were pretty used to Wades insanity at this point, hence why he called you a freak (in that sweet way endearing way) so maybe there was an explanation on all this.
“Thats Mary Puppens. The sweetest shit stain around. We got her from uh….A cousin. Passed away. Terrible terrible. Can’t have her left alone.” Wade would explain, as Logan would walk over. Gave the pup a gentle scratch under her chin that made her shake her leg just right. She clearly loved her new parents dearly.
“And the mess here?” You would raise a brow, before Wade tugged at his collar. That’s when he noticed it was backwards, and kept himself busy with fixing it. Left Logan to have to bite the bullet.
“….Redecorating…..” Logan offered, as you just stared at the two. A brow raised, as you didn’t buy it for a single second. You weren’t stupid. You weren’t going to fall for the ‘put on a hat and jacket and suddenly you can’t make out a superhero from a crowd’ trope. Something suspicious was going on.
“Just be direct, will ya?! If anyone can be trusted it’s gonna be that there sugar.” Al would practically scold the two little dumbasses. Just like a mother would to her so , and his boyfriend, who were trying to dance around a topic.
“Are you two super humans of some kind? You don’t have to tell me more. Just….Dont wanna worry about little Pup here and Al. Ya know?” That seemed to make Logan pause. As if your kindness, and realness, was a shock to have. A welcomed one, but you’ll still get caught off guard if you ate trash and suddenly had a pallet cleanser of lime sherbet shoved in your mouth.
“Do you mean super human as super human, or super human like mutant powers, or super human like experimented on, or super human like as a-“ And Logan promptly smacked the back of Wades head. Treating him like a skipping record. Had you giggle, since now you didn’t have to worry about the violence. Able to comprehend they just don’t feel pain like others.
“Super human is all that needs to be said, bub.” Logan warned him, as he held up his fist. You thought to punch, but you swore the top of his hand was twitching. Not like a muscle spasm. Way too uniformed. As if three veins were bulging. Maybe it was better not to question it.
“Now, why are you even here?” Logan would try his blunt coldness on you, but living next to the likes of Wade doesn’t really phase you. This was a world of super heros and inhumans. Can’t scare you that easy.
“Came to check on Miss Althea. Heard a ruckus, that was louder than normal, so I came to check.” That had Logan scoff. To hear you being so ‘brave’ and coming over to the source of the noise. A admiring ‘so dumb but in a brave way’ admiring.
“He’s still grumpy from the turbulence, if you will-“ Wade would jazz hands, as if knowing things that no one else shouldn’t. He always did act like that. As if he just knew how the world worked better than others. You found it more so endearing than creepy, like others did.
“Oh! New here? Well welcome! Oh, maybe I can show you around? Wade and I know some pretty cool places. Oh! There’s a dog park that’s built for dogs who need more special care than others. We can all go there with Miss Puppins!” You were rambling like Wade, but had the clarity of Logan. A beautiful combination. One that had the two men smitten.
“Fuck yeah we can go to the dog park. Get dressed, Showman, come on-!” And Wade was running off to get changed. The typical attire of hoodie, face mask, glasses. Just layering. You didn’t find his skin disgusting, but given the world’s issues with pandemic it can’t be helped.
“Great, now you got him started again-“ Logan would complain, yet was already grabbing his leather jacket. Complaining, yet clearly willingly excited all the same. Just in his own way.
“Would you like to join us, Miss Althea?” You asked her, which gave her a bit of a surprise. You wanted her to come along? She normally never tagged along on things like this. Yet, you offered. Even though most times she would say no. Not this time.
“Someone needs to make sure you assholes don’t get into more shit.” She smarted off, but was already standing. With the help of Logan, of course. Just in time for Wade to return.
“Come on disabled gang! Let’s go!” He would clap, as Logan just kept rolling his eyes. You yourself were excited, and leading the charge now. All with Miss Puppins happy in your arms. So happy to have a big family to take her on adventures.
Nothing more sweet than a happy pup.
#deadpool#Wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool vs wolverine#blind Al#poolverine#logan howlett#logan#wade wilson#dogpool#deadpool x wolverine#deadpool x reader#wolverine x reader#poolverine x reader#x reader#domestic fluff#we love domestic fluff#dogpool best girl#deadpool x you#deadpool x y/n#wolverine x you#wolverine x deadpool#wolverine x y/n#x men#canon typical violence#domestic#urban fantasy#x reader fluff#fluff#mary puppins
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Well, the last 24h have been crazy and fun and probably some of the best I've ever had. ♥
I'm on my way home now. No idea if I make it in time to post the chapter or not.
Besides that ...
#i finally have polls so we use them#on another note berlin i know you are cool and everything and you have so much to offer#but god damn you are so ugly and chaotic and a mess#im sorry berlin its me not you i promise#i just cant bring myself to love you
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NAKED

| PAIRINGS: bonten!mikey x reader
| WARNINGS: suggestive (minors dni), implied sexual content nothing explicit, obsessive and toxic behaviour (lowkey), gender neutral reader, mikey centred, reader is clueless, mikey has emotional issues, mikey is delusional, kinda angsty, grammar errors, mikey is silly and deranged
| WORD COUNT: 2,107
| A/N: this is literally one of the two works i’ve finished in almost a year so uhh sorry if it’s not good or something but i just felt like writing about emotional unstable mikey and his need of love so it’s kinda short and non detailed 😭 there’s another a/n at the end of the work in case of confusion bc damn idk if i portrayed it correctly anyways enjoy <3
SUMMARY
Where Manjiro Sano gets obsessed with you (with a plot twist).
Mikey Sano was afraid.
He was afraid of his heart’s beat, increasing in intensity and pace whenever his mindset landed on the one he yearned for the most. He was afraid of the exaggerated thoughts that drowned his mind, leading to destructive behaviours that he couldn’t help but fall into, almost as a defence mechanism he’d mastered over the years.
Mikey Sano was afraid. Of love. Of you.
It was intense. It was raw. But it was real.
The sharp pain in his chest as he looked at those eyes full of ecstasy and passion proved it. His hands, tingly and sweaty, wishing to be held by yours one more time. Even by a mere coincidence. Even by accident. But, please, just one more time.
He needed you. Your warmth, your assuring words, your praise, the feeling of your body close to his to prove everything around him was worth it. Even himself. Because he was to you and, as easy as connecting the dots in a piece of paper, he started thinking maybe he actually was important, he was needed.
But was he?
The memory of the empty cold side of the bed that damned next morning still haunted him during his loneliest nights, city lights and streets full of people under his nose being his only companions along the chilly wind current hitting his face. Secretly, maybe even subconsciously, he hoped to see you again among the crowd, waiting for him just like he was waiting for you. Perhaps you would be standing down there in the sidewalk, looking up at him from below with that sweet smile on your face that enchanted him at first sight and he would smile too, heart fluttering and body heating up with thrill and excitement, just like a scene from those romance movies from his childhood. But, of course, that never happened.
Silly Mikey. Stupid Mikey. Worth-for-nothing Mikey.
Where did it go wrong? He asked himself that same question at least thrice a day after the last time he saw you almost a month. A month full of desperation. Was it something he said? Something he did? Maybe even something he didn’t do. He couldn’t come up with anything that may have scared you away because, god, it all seemed to be going fine before you left him.
That last night was perfect. He was feeling light-headed just by remembering the previous events. You were so eager for him. To please him and make him feel good. And that you did.
His name falling from your lips like a mantra followed him to the few dreams he could gather throughout his usual sleepless nights, almost as if something or someone out there was giving him the divine reward he wasn’t worth of. For a small moment, he didn’t think of himself as the ugly and disgusting mess he was thanks to your lovely ministrations of your lips in his chest, his neck and his face. Warm hands moving down his torso, reaching the place where he needed you the most while leaving a fiery trace all over the exposed skin that came into contact with your touch. The chaotic yet beautiful tangle of limbs and mix of saliva and moans filling the room along with the explicit sound of skin slapping against skin. It was passionate, loud and naked.
Manjiro, Manjiro, Manjiro. Because that night you didn’t see Mikey. You saw Manjiro. In his most naked and purest form. With tears filling his eyes as the pleasure invaded his body, words of adoration and an unnoticed confession leaving his mouth only to be muffled in the soft spot between your neck and shoulder, making you whine at the moment as he painted your insides white with a loud, needy sob of your name.
Manjiro, I want you.
Manjiro, I need you.
Manjiro, I’m yours.
And just like that, he fell. And hard. God, how desperate was he to hear those words again. He wanted you. He needed you. He was completely and utterly yours ever since the first kiss you two shared.
So why the hell did you leave him?
His hands clenched into fists on his lap, negative emotions filling his body after the distant yet sweet pleasure his memories brought him. Anger, sorrow, despair. He didn’t hate you, he just couldn’t come to have any kind of rencor towards you. Actually, he kind of understood why and he felt miserable at how hurtful could realisation be.
Why wouldn’t you leave him?
Everyone did, so why wouldn’t you do the same? The same sharp pain pierced through his chest to the point he almost felt like throwing up and crumbling to the floor. It would’ve happened sooner or later, right? At one point you probably realised how dangerous staying with someone like him was. Strong yet weak. Intimidating yet afraid. Sweet yet sour. He was a hard pill to swallow and a venomous one at that.
But you told him he was needed, didn’t you? That you were his. Even if Mikey wanted to fight with himself inside the dark cave that was his mind, it seemed his feral and egocentric side beat up the bundle of insecurities that told him it was his fault. At least when it came to you. Because how could it possibly be his fault? He didn’t leave you. He didn’t abandon you. He didn’t lie to you. Everything he said and felt was real, he was now sure about it.
So he went back to the low-life place where everything started. Where he saw you for the first time and approached him with confidence in your steps, as if you didn’t know what you were doing to him when your hands wrapped around his waist to bring him closer to you. And he let you. He let himself drown in your saccharine scent and the feeling of finally being desired. The walls and crowd were now a blurry, almost unknown, memory, focusing on you and just you.
So please, please, be there.
He hoped, wished, prayed and begged to whatever was out there listening. He regrets not inquiring about your house, he would have more of a chance to corner you and question you, to finally get an explanation on why. Why, why, why. Was he not enough? No. No, he was enough.
His tired eyes roamed around the place, realising he couldn’t even remember the way the faint amber luminosity made him feel dizzy just like this moment, completely forgetting about it once he had you between his arms. The crowd. Were there this many people that time too? Or was it him? He must’ve been really drunk off you to not even remember basic architectural features. Minutes of confusion and doubt passed and passed, finally deciding to sit down at the table closest to the exit just in case you walked by.
And you did.
And you looked as bright as the first time he saw you.
Everything seemed to stop around him. The music, the background noise of people chatting and even the cars passing by outside. Everything except his beating hard against his chest he even got worried it could actually lead to physical complications in the next few minutes. But that didn’t matter. In fact, nothing mattered but you.
He couldn’t look away. Not even if he tried. His stern gaze followed you all the way until you were in front of the bar, elbows resting on the surface and looking at the distance with a small smile on your face. He couldn’t help the way his eyes slid down the shape of your body, admiring every curve and corner of it as flashes of the passionate night you both shared came to his mind, making his pants tighten at the growing arousal. He licked his lips in anticipation, standing up from his spot to walk to you while wondering, a mix of emotions messing up with his state of mind once again.
Did you not see him? Or were you just ignoring him? Did you still remember the way he made you feel the last time? Have all the marks he left all over your body gone away completely? Could you steel feel him between your legs, filling you up with all he’s worth? Did you not miss him? He’s been craving for you. Yearning even.
How he wished he could listen beyond the sound of his heart beating in his ears as he was few feet away from you, legs bobbling with nervousness and something else he couldn’t pinpoint. Because you were finally there, in front of him and looking the same as he last saw you. The soft lips that swallowed him whole and let out the sweetest of sounds he’s ever heard, the hands that held him with such love and care, putting him together for a few moments of his entire life, the eyes that were filled with raw adoration and lust as he thrusted into you eagerly, whimpers leaving his lips. Everything was the same. You were the same.
A whisper of your name behind you. The turn of your head to connect your sparkly soft eyes with his dead ones yet covered with hope and illusion. Your sweet smile welcoming him again as his head started spinning with ecstasy to the thought of you needing him again. You were so sweet. So, so sweet to him.
“Do I know you?”
His whole world crumbled down.
Suddenly, he couldn’t stand the honeyed tone in your voice as you also asked for his name, getting closer to him to get a better look at his face. He couldn’t stand the way the crowd that seemed to disappear was now suffocating him along with the background music. His eyes stared at you for a few seconds, trying to find the slightest sign of a laugh, a crack in the elaborated joke you tried to pull on him before you took him in your arms again.
Because what did you even mean with a question like that? Did you seriously forget him that easily? He felt like dying during the whole month he spent without you, without your touch, while he didn’t even cross your mind. Was that night nothing to you? Was he really just another irrelevant person on your life? Was he really as unimportant as he felt?
Mikey felt naked in front of you once again. However, this time it felt shameful. It felt degrading. He perceived himself small under your soft expecting eyes, as if he was nothing but a pebble in your way. And, apparently, he was.
He didn’t want this.
He couldn’t handle this.
You moaned his name over and over again. He gave himself to you that night. He told you he loved you as he came inside of you with a sob of your name. You told him you were his. Manjiro, Manjiro, Manjiro. That night. That one and only night. He’s never felt more naked than when being with you, both in the right and wrong way. Honest but disgraceful. Loved but forgotten. Manjiro but nobody.
Do you know him? Yes, he wanted to answer, you’re mine. I’m yours.
But Mikey knew better than to make the same mistake again. He now knew better than to strip himself from all clothes, barriers and masks to you from the beginning. To not leave his heart exposed to sweet words and lustful lies. And, as you asked once again for his name, this time worry and suspiciousness coating your still sweet tone, a smirk appeared on his face.
Never again.
“No,” he purred, slowly closing the gap between you, dangerously low and seductive. Just like he knew you liked him. Like you told him you liked him.
This time, he will do it the correct way.
“But you can call me Mikey.”
And you repeated his name as you eyed him up and down, that same look you gave him the first time that you approached him, almost as if you tried to savour the way it would sound when he was taking you rough and raw a few hours later. Just like the first time. Just like the only time.
This time, there was no excuse for mistakes. This time, there was no space for Manjiro and his pure nakedness, for words of love in a world filled with flowers and rewards. Because you didn’t deserve all that delivered in a silver plate just like he cluelessly gave it to you that night. If you wanted to play, he could play. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
Tonight, you were going to become entirely his. For real this time.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
a/n: just to clear something up if it was confusing 😭 basically mikey got obsessed with reader over a one night stand, thinking they actually meant everything they said and he wants them to stay with him forever now! thanks for reading mwah
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#mikey sano#sano manjiro#manjiro sano#mikey x reader#mikey sano x reader#sano manjiro x reader#manjiro sano x reader#manjiro#manjiro x reader#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revengers x reader smut#mikey sano smut#sano manjiro smut
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kissing face
synopsis: tiktok makes langa a lil insecure
genre: fluff
pairing: langa x reader
warnings: mentions of insecurity and physical appearance, kissing
word count: 1.4 k
notes: i started thinking about what langa’s fyp on tiktok would look like (it would be chaotic. pure, utter chaos. that and cooking tutorials. no in between) and then I wrote a lil paragraph for sh*ts and giggles. and THEN it turned into...all of this. also, i wrote this during my study breaks so if the gramma/spelling is off, it’s because my brain is actually fried. enjoy!
langa sees all those tiktoks making fun of that face boys make before they kiss you and he’s like “ew?”
but then he tries to practice kiss in the mirror and he’s horrified because wtf wtf wtf wtf? has he been kissing you like this since you started dating him? why haven’t you said anything?
so when he’s over at your house for a studying session, the both of you sitting on your bedroom floor, you don’t notice that langa is purposely withholding from kissing you because you’re in study mode.
the timer on your phone goes off, signaling for you both to take a break. sighing deeply, you rub the back of your cramping neck and look up from your laptop. you turn over to langa, who’s eyes are glossed over from reading, his hair a mess from frustratedly running his fingers through his locks—he looks like he’s just been shuttled from another dimension.
“i’ve...been rereading the same five sentences for the last thirty minutes” he murmurs, sounding equally as dazed as he looks.
this earns a giggle from you, as you shimmy over to wear he sits. with a sympathetic smile on your face, you smooth his hair down as you coo “poor baby”, before you start giggling again.
langa, whose brain is way too fried to respond, can only stare at you, blinking ever so slowly. you settle closer to him, cupping his cheeks and langa catches your gaze dropping to his lips.
suddenly, he gets a mental image of those god awful expression he saw on tiktok and he’s shaken from his studying induced stupor. Wide eyed, langa wriggles out you grasp feeling a little bad at your confused expression.
“is something the matter?” you ask, frowning slightly. “i’m sorry—”
langa places his hands over your cheeks before you can finish your apology. “close your eyes” he says, straight faced.
you blink. “huh?” you question.
“can you close your eyes...please?” he mumbles, a lot less confident than before. he pouts a little in an attempt to conceal the fact that he’s slightly blushing (you notice).
still confused, you shut your eyes. “okay, but hurry up. your hands are cold—” you stop yourself when he feel his breath fan your face. without thinking, you inhale on instinct. it was embarrassing to admit, but you loved the scent of langa’s breath. he was impeccable when it came to hygiene, so he always smelled nicely. but you loved langa’s scent—it was hard to explain. he always smelled like mint and well, himself. him. him. him. him.
you knew what was coming next, but you couldn’t help but jump when his lips met yours—soft and hesitant. inhaling much more deeply this time, you slightly part your lips and lean into the kiss. langa hums appreciatively and you bring your hands up to grasp onto his forearms.
before you can open your eyes, langa swiftly pulls away, leaving you slightly dazed. you open your eyes to see langa cautiously staring at you.
“why...what was that all about?” you ask, trying to keep your face from twisting into a smile. you give langa’s forearms a squeeze and he drops his hands from your face, resting them on your lap.
“nothing...” langa mumbles, looking everywhere but at you.
he was obviously not telling the truth, and you knew that. but you also knew that the inner workings of langa’s mind was an enigma and if you were being honest, this wasn’t even close to being the strangest thing he’s done.
so you let it go—that is until he’s getting ready to go home.
you’re standing in the doorway, watching langa tie his shoes before he stands up straight and adjusts the strap of his messenger bag over his chest.
you grin. “that was hot”
langa blinks. “what was?” he asks, bending over to pick up his skateboard.
“when you adjust your bag like that” you reply softly, sliding your fingers over the strap before you bring your hand over his chest.
langa’s confused expression melts into a fond smile. you think he looks prettiest like this, smiling so easily with a gentle shimmer in his eye, like moonlight reflecting off the ocean.
“okay, i’ll keep note of that” he replies quietly and you can’t help but giggle at the sharp contradiction between his formal choice of words and the affectionate tone of his voice.
langa continues to softly grin as you giggle.
but then, oh shit, you’re staring at his lip again. langa panics, not wanting to ruin the moment but he’ll be damned if you see that ugly ass expression on his face before he goes in for kiss. but you must’ve seen it before right? did you notice but chose not to say anything out to preserve his feelings? did he really look like a fish while kissing you? a fish?
“all that studying must’ve fried your brain, huh?” you smile at him through half-lidded eyes, drumming your fingers against his chest. langa realizes he’s been staring at you with a dead expression and bites his lip.
langa takes the hand you’ve placed in his chest and grips it. “goodnight, y/n” he whispers before hesitating. “c-close your eyes”
the smile on your face falters as you take in langa’s tensed appearance. you tilt your head to one side. “why?”
“so...”
“so...?”
“i can kiss you goodnight”
there’s a long pause. langa’s grip on your hand has increased tenfold as he stares at you expectantly and he almost looks—nervous?
you blink, still confused, before langa reluctantly continues on.
“just...until i figure out how to fix my face...” he mumbles, eyes flitting off to the side.
“okay, now I’m really lost”
“i—” langa starts before sighing, deciding it would be better to show you. with the hand that isn’t clasped against yours, langa whips his phone from his pocket and unlocks it.
bewildered, you watch your boyfriend closely as he navigates through his phone—for what? you have no clue. off handedly, you think to yourself about how cute his expression is, brows furrowed and his lips set in a tiny pout.
“this, this” he rushes, bringing up his phone up to your face. you watch the tiktok he’s pulled up for you, in which a girl imitates the different ways boys go in for kisses.
you purse your lips in an attempt to conceal your smile, your chest jumping with an aborted giggle.
“oh, that’s—” the sentence dies in your throat when you look up at langa to see his dejected expression. “oh, no no no, langa, no. sweetheart, no”
“we’ve been dating for months—” langa mutters as you cup his cheeks, standing on your tip toes so that you’re eye level with him.
“no, oh my god, langa!” you half-whine, giggling as you try to get langa to look at you. he directs his gaze toward the ground, cheeks warm in against your palms.
“—and you didn’t tell me that I was making fish eyes at you?”
“well, not fish eyes” you offer thoughtfully and langa peers up at your earnestly. you drop one hand from his cheek to grab his forearm, raising his hand so you can examine his phone again. you rewatch the tiktok again. “your eyes don’t get scary wide and you don’t let your mouth hang open like that”
the sigh of relief langa let’s out almost sends you into a laughing fit.
“but...”
langa winces, giving a slight whimper behind shut lips.
“i mean, you do cross your eyes a little—”
langa shuts his eyes, face grim, like you just told him his puppy passed away.
“but it’s really cute, insanely hot, very model-esque!” you rush, but langa hangs his head. you fight the urge to roll your eyes at his theatrics.“there has never been a time in which you’ve looked even remotely mediocre, let alone unattractive.”
langa glances up you.
“but it’s embarrassing...” he murmurs.
“but your hot...”
“i can still be embarrassed!”
“so you agree?”
“agree?”
“that you’re hot?”
langa’s face flushes as you smile up at him innocently. “i...never said that” he mumbles, turning his face from you.
“well if it truly bothers you, we can practice” you offer, gently pinching his cheek.
“right now?” he asks incredulously.
“only if you’d like” you shrug, placing your hands on top of langa’s biceps. his heart beat quickens when you grin up at him coquettishly. “i think you kiss fine, but i can make you into a bona fide kisser if you want.”
“how long would that take?” langa questions. in his head, he imagines that it would take days—weeks, even, to scrap off the awkward expressions from his face.
“hmm,” you hum with faux thoughtfulness, tapping your finger against your cheek. “when is reki coming to take you to S tonight?”
“11:45?”
“i’ll have you done by 11:30”
langa blinks at you, cheeks slightly rosy. then, his face falls into that easy smile, the smile that you love so much.
notes: dramatic langa is very pleasing to me. this was supposed to be like, two paragraphs long but then it turned into all of this. please excuse me for any errors, i’ve been studying for midterms all day and I wrote this during my 5 minute breaks lfkgkdk@&:$:
i’ll come back to edit this!
#sk8 the infinty#sk8 the infinity x reader#langa x reader#langa hasegawa x reader#langa x you#langa x y/n
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48 from dialogue prompts + 50 from wordless i-love-yous for geraskier?
Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping
--
It catches Geralt’s eye while he haggles over an outrageously priced jar of alchemy paste with a none-too-impressed herbalist on the outskirts of Novigrad, a buxom widow with thick-braided auburn hair by the name of Irmina.
“This for sale too?” He picks up the brooch from the countertop where it rests in a beam of golden light streaming through a dingy window. He examines it. It’s simple enough metalwork, a brass oval with a scalloped edge, but inlaid in its face is a single pressed yellow flower framed by tiny white blooms encased in resin.
The herbalist’s dour demeanour brightens immediately. “It is indeed!” she answers, her brown eyes shining in a plump, suddenly pleasant face. “Made it myself just last week. It’s something of a hobby of mine, making pretty knick-knacks from the flowers we can’t sell. Got plenty more like this if you’d like to peruse ‘em, master witcher! Forget-me-nots and arenaria, hellebore, violets, any flower you might like.”
A buttercup, he realizes belatedly. That’s the yellow flower in the center.
“No.” He sees Irmina’s brow furrow in offense, so he hastens to appease her. “No need, I’ll take this one. I...I’m partial to buttercups.”
Her freckled face breaks into a sly, knowing smile. “Oh, aye, I’m sure someone is partial to buttercups.” She winks, waving away his stammered attempts at an answer. “Never you mind, I know a man besotted when I see one, and it seems a witcher’s not so different. Tell you what. Fifty crowns for the paste and I’ll throw the brooch in for only ten.”
-
Leaving the herbalist’s shop with an overpriced paste, a lighter purse, and a useless trinket, Geralt curses himself for a fool.
He’s not sure why he bought it.
He knows buttercups are Jaskier’s favorite, of course. “None but the noblest of flowers for my sobriquet!” Jaskier had squawked indignantly when Geralt once made the grave mistake of referring to the pesky things as weeds after he’d stopped Roach from chomping on a patch of the bright, poisonous blooms.
They are weeds, buttercups. They serve no function. They can’t be used in any of the potions, decoctions, or oils Geralt brews, nor do they have any particularly helpful curative properties for humans.
“As ever, my dear witcher, you have no sense of poetry,” Jaskier had sighed in a most put-upon voice when told as much. “Their function is they’re pretty. Their function is to enrich our lives through the beauty of the natural world.” He’d looked to the sky, tip of his tongue between his teeth showing through his frown as was his custom when puzzling through the right way to turn a phrase. “From a strictly utilitarian perspective, perhaps the buttercup has less value than, say, moleyarrow, or verbena, or chamomile, even. Some plants provide nutritional or medicinal or alchemical qualities of various sorts. But some exist to make life worth living! To transform the banal into the sublime.” He’d plucked a buttercup from the roadside, twirling it between his long fingers. “It’s graceful and balanced, effortlessly beautiful. It’s vibrant, bright like...like sunlight, on a summer afternoon! And when you see it growing alongside the various and sundry flora, it fills you with the loveliest burst of warmth, like a lover’s smile.”
“So...it’s a pretty weed.”
“You’re incorrigible, witcher, that’s what you are.” Jaskier had huffed dramatically before tucking the buttercup behind Geralt’s ear, his face alight with a delighted grin.
Like sunlight on a summer afternoon.
-
The Kingfisher Inn is crowded when Geralt arrives. He goes to the bar, orders an ale from Olivier, and leans against the counter to take a look at the stage.
Jaskier loves playing the Kingfisher. In many of the inns he plays across the Continent, he’s relegated to a corner to try to sing over the clang of dinner, his only option to win the common folk over a raucous drinking song or a filthy ditty. And while the bard doesn’t shy away from such vulgarities, the patrons of the Kingfisher tend to be of a more artistically inclined ilk, responding with appropriate gusto to the virtuosic art songs that he rarely performs outside of competitions or Oxenfurt.
Or so he’d explained to Geralt when he’d suggested they meet up at the inn.
Jaskier sits atop a tall stool on a rather large stage framed by crimson curtains, his sky-blue doublet a vivid contrast. The audience, enraptured, listens to his ballad, a melancholy tale of a fair maiden who’s violently killed before she can profess her love to a farmhand in her village, a beautiful, strong, kind man whose hair shines like a blaze of pale fire in the sunlight. Her love for him tethers her to this world, and her spirit—bitter, weary, and endlessly yearning—calls the men working in the fields to join her dance at midday, when the sun is in its zenith, hoping against hope for the chance to finally confess to her beloved.
In the end, the brave, noble farmhand sacrifices himself, hoping to stop the spirit’s killings by listening to her song and joining her as she beckons. And as they are reunited, as she finally kisses the lips she’s longed for in a blinding blaze of sunlight, they pass on together, their spirits becoming one.
It’s a contract Geralt worked a few years ago, a noonwraith outside Oreton—or at least something close. As ever, Jaskier has taken artistic liberties, romanticized the actual events (“Sometimes, in our pursuit of Truth, we must sacrifice the facts,” Jaskier loftily explained on more than one occasion. He seemed quite taken with the profundity he seemed to find in the statement. Geralt called it pretentious once and Jaskier hurled a chunk of bread at his head). Once it might have bothered Geralt, but he’s grown accustomed to Jaskier’s rather malleable relationship with veracity in his ballads. There’s no denying the impact of his storytelling: when Geralt glances around the inn, he sees several patrons discreetly dabbing at their eyes.
It’d been an ugly case, leaving him feeling empty, drained. Noonwraiths haunt his thoughts far longer than most the monsters he dispatches. They’re victims of circumstance more than anything, young women who’ve been transformed into bloodthirsty, violent spirits through no fault of their own, through the violence inflicted upon them. Nearly forty men had fallen prey to her before the farmhand distracted her with his kiss—though Geralt would hesitate to classify his grotesque, gruesome sacrifice as such—so the witcher had a chance to strike her down with silver. Jaskier has spun the miserable tale into something beautiful, moving, something that clearly resonates with his captivated audience, that speaks to a greater force at work than the chaotic, banal evils the witcher sees every day, and Geralt thinks he understands, for a moment, what the bard had told him of Truth and facts.
(Geralt doesn’t know what greater Truth is served by changing the beloved farmhand’s hair from the dull brown it really was to “a blaze of pale fire,” but then, Geralt’s not a poet.)
The final notes hang in the air, all eyes fixed on Jaskier for a rapt, breathless moment before the room bursts into wild applause. Jaskier stands and bows deeply, once, twice, a third time, surveying the room as he offers his thanks. When his gaze catches Geralt at the bar, his expression of showman’s grace vanishes, a flash of something that looks almost alarmed for a split second before it’s replaced by a small, gentle smile.
Geralt nods and raises his mug toward the stage in cheers, draining the remainder. Jaskier is quickly swept into the swarm of captivated fans, accepting their praises with a gracious, if distracted, smile.
The witcher turns back to the barkeep to order himself another ale along with a glass of wine.
“Geralt!” Jaskier swerves to avoid a near-collision with a frenzied barmaid on his way to join his companion at the bar. He grabs the wine glass with a groan of appreciation, taking a swig before asking, “Is this for me? Gods, but you’re a marvel, darling, I thank you.” He takes another sip and sends a disarming, roguish wink to a pair of girls staring at him and giggling to each other. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, but it wouldn’t have mattered, I suppose, they only had one room to let when I checked in and it hasn’t cleared out since. You’ll share mine, of course, but I’ve been here a week so, you know, best brace yourself, I’ve quite made the place my own.”
Geralt snorts. He’s stayed in enough rooms that Jaskier has made his own over the past decade to predict with some certainty what mess he’ll soon venture into.
(Doublets draped over furniture after they’ve been discarded; crumpled sheets of paper tossed near, never in the fireplace; a few near-empty bottles of wine; a shirt hung to dry over the modesty screen between the sleeping and bathing areas; bottles of a dozen oils and perfumes and soaps scattered haphazard near the tub; an unmade bed that may well contain an abandoned undergarment or forgotten stocking left by some well-satisfied guest.)
“Have you eaten? Shall we? I’m starved, felt jittery all afternoon and didn’t eat a damned thing which was all well and good until I got onstage and suddenly wished for a fainting couch. Or we could take your things up to the room first, of course. Oh! We could have them bring our dinner up to us, it’s awfully crowded down here tonight and I’m not sure I’m up to socializing all evening, to be honest, I’ve been dreadfully out of sorts, did you notice, Geralt, that I’ve…”
Jaskier continues his ramblings, and the witcher can’t help a twinge of worry for his friend. It’s not unheard of for Jaskier to be in a heightened state over a particularly important performance, but usually afterwards the nerves dissipate and he seems more himself. Not to mention, why would playing in an inn prompt such anxieties? Even if the Kingfisher clientele trends toward the more refined than the country folk he often plays for, it’s still rather a low-stakes environment to trigger such stress.
“New song?” he asks casually. Jaskier always beams when he notices such things, when he makes an effort to ask about his music.
Instead, Jaskier blushes, looking away with an expression that almost seems guilty. “Ah, yes, well, I wasn’t certain when you’d be arriving, of course, I thought I might try out something different, a sort of test audience, as it were, to feel out the piece before I use it for anything important.” The look he’s fixed on Geralt seems almost wary. “Did you...like the song?”
Geralt shrugs. “Not quite how it happened,” he grumbles, out of habit more than anything.
A smile, genuine and rueful, breaks out on Jaskier’s face. “Gods, I’ve missed you, my friend,” he says, shaking his head and looking away quickly.
“Hmm.” He reaches quickly into the coin pouch at his side, thrusting the trinket from the herbalist into Jaskier’s hand with a brusque, “Here.”
“Whatever have we got…” He cuts off as opens his palm. “Oh.”
There have been so few times over the years that Geralt has seen Jaskier speechless that he begins to worry he’s offended him. He turns the brooch over in his hands, once, twice, his thumb swiping gently over its smooth enamel face. He doesn’t look up.
Even in the crowded room, Geralt can smell the shift in his demeanor, the muted sickly-sweet anxious smell becoming something sharp, metallic, pained, like he’s been stabbed. “You’re upset.”
“I...no.” Jaskier shoves the brooch into his trouser pocket, a tense smile on his face, not at all reaching his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt, it’s lovely. Shall we take your bags to the room now?”
“I didn’t...I didn’t get it to upset you.”
Jaskier laughs, a broken thing, and Geralt grows even more alarmed. “You didn’t, it isn’t that, sometimes I want things I can’t have is all.” He grabs the saddlebag sitting at Geralt’s feet, not meeting his eyes as he rushes past him up the stairs to the last bedroom in the hall.
Geralt follows after a moment, giving his companion a respectful distance. There’s a tightness in his shoulders, a knot in his gut that only grows as he watches Jaskier’s hand tremble on the key as he unlocks the door.
It was a stupid idea. He knew it was stupid when he bought it, yet he bought it anyway, somehow ruined everything anyway.
“Here we are.” Jaskier’s voice is filled with a forced cheer as he sets the bag down, hand never leaving the doorknob. “I’ll go fetch us some supper. Or, actually, you know, now that I think of it, I’ve a few errands to run before it gets too late, meant to do it earlier but you know how it goes, lost track of time…”
“Jaskier.” Geralt moves toward him but stops himself, helpless. “Please. I’m sorry I upset you.”
Jaskier stands in the doorway for another moment. He takes a deep breath, closes the door, and walks slowly to the writing desk in the corner. He pulls the chair out, moving the doublet strewn across it before sitting. He doesn’t look at Geralt.
“You didn’t.” Every word is calculated, deliberate. “What kind of ungrateful wretch gets upset over...over an exceptionally thoughtful gift from a friend after a time apart?”
Geralt sits on the edge of the bed. His elbows rest on his knees, fingers locking together as he stares at the floor. “You’re not a wretch. The fault is mine.”
“Dammit, Geralt, there isn’t fault, I only—why did you bring me a gift?”
Geralt frowns. “I’ve bought you things before,” he says slowly.
“Things, yes!” Jaskier vaults from the chair, pacing listlessly about the room, no longer trying to mask his inexplicable distress. “Lute strings when I broke a string and I was low on coin. The lute is my livelihood, it made financial sense for you to replace the string so I could pull my own weight, help you when we pass through several towns in a row with no contracts. Boots when you noticed the hole in the heel of my old pair, because I slow you down limping about in footwear that’s falling apart. Room and board, sometimes, because you know I’m good for it, I’ll cover you the next time.” He’s stopped pacing, stares silent into the fireplace.
“Wasn’t keeping a tab.” Geralt’s voice is quiet. “You needed strings and boots and food and a room.”
Jaskier doesn’t turn to face him, but Geralt sees his hand slip into his pocket, pull out the brooch. His head bends, studying it.
He’s not offended or annoyed or angered by the gift. He’s hurt. But why?
Except...
Jaskier looked guilty when Geralt brought up the song. Like he’d been caught red-handed. Did you like it? he’d asked. Incredulous.
The noonwraith singing her song in hopes that her beloved hears her confession. That he’ll hear her song of longing and come to her.
Hair like a blaze of pale fire, not dull brown.
Sometimes I want things I can’t have.
“Geralt?”
The witcher snaps back to attention, eyes fixed on Jaskier, finally facing him.
“Why did you get it for me, Geralt?”
Geralt frowns. “It’s...pretty,” he starts lamely. “I thought you might wear it when you play. You wear gaudy things.”
Jaskier snorts, a small, crooked grin on his lips.
“It made me think of you,” he confesses quietly, his eyes tracing the wood grain of the floor. “Sometimes...things don’t have to have a function. It was a buttercup and it was pretty and it…made me think of you.”
When Geralt dares to raise his eyes, Jaskier’s staring at him, brows drawn together and mouth slightly agape. After a moment, he walks toward the witcher, sitting carefully beside him on the bed. He reaches his hand towards Geralt’s and presses the little brooch into his palm.
“Will you pin it on me?” he asks softly.
Geralt nods.
His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he fumbles with the delicate clasp. The top few buttons of Jaskier’s doublet, as ever, are undone, but it closes neatly just beneath his exposed neck. Geralt slips a finger beneath the satin fabric to pull it away from his throat, cautiously piercing the fabric with the thin pin and sliding it into its slot, locking the clasp with shaking hands.
His hand doesn’t move from Jaskier’s chest. A sword-calloused thumb, seemingly of its own volition, grazes lightly over the bobbing Adam’s apple.
“Geralt.”
He looks up, almost pulls away but for the flushed cheeks, the tongue that darts out to wet pink lips, the hooded eyes beneath dark lashes fixed on Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier’s breath is warm against his face. When did they draw so close?
“Are you going to kiss me, Geralt?” The breathy whisper is laced with wonder.
And he didn’t...didn’t buy the brooch to entice Jaskier into anything, didn’t mean to solicit any sort of reward, and he opens his mouth to tell him so, yet as his rough hand moves to gently cup the back of Jaskier’s neck the words that tumble out instead are, “I’d like to.”
And Jaskier throws back his head and laughs, a euphoric, intoxicated sound, as his lovely hands cradle Geralt’s face. He brings his forehead to rest against Geralt’s as they still, breathing each other for a moment before Jaskier surges forward to capture his lips.
His kiss tastes like sunlight.
#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#the witcher fic#the witcher#my fic#anon asks#prompt fill#thank you so much for this absolutely lovely prompt!!!!! i'm so sorry it took me months to actually filling it!!!
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RANT I don't even know if this makes sense but I'm so angry.
I'm so tired of all this drama. I just want to live my life the way I want and be happy. I'm tired of being told my actions cause all the drama. They dont. I don't flaunt my coming and goings - I keep my life pretty private so I don't understand why people feel the need to not only butt into my life and report any associated comings and goings to individuals who use it against me and rub things in my face when things arent perfect - it's disgusting how they justify their ugly behavior under the guise of "caring". If you cared you wouldn't be throwing shit in my face. What is wrong with people??? I don't control other people's behavior. Other people make choices on how they want to act. I am not some super villian who magically manipulates how people act. People need to take accountability for their damn actions and stop bl.aong me !
I'm tired of being the scapegoat bc people don't want to be mad at the person they should be mad at. I'm tired of being strong. I need to find someone who will make me a priority and can take care of me when I don't have the energy to be that strong independent female. Like fuck who doesn't want to feel special and important to someone? Or at minimum gives a damn about my feelings ??? Be vulnerable without it biting my in the ass?! For over a decade it feels like ANYONE I've ever cared about and been vulnerable with has taken me for granted and treated me like a doormat. NEWFLASH IM FUCKING EXHAUSTED. How much am I expected to take before I snap?! I try to be civil or not engage at all, give people the benefit of the doubt over and over again in my life and it's all for nothing. In the end I get screwed over EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. What is so wrong with me?!
I try to stay out of people's business unless it impacts my life because it's not my business to be involved otherwise. I don't gossip unless it's about celebrities and vent to people about my problems who I believe to be trustworthy. If that trust gets betrayed I learn and I adjust. So why do other people feel the need to butt into my life ? Especially in the last couple months ?! And make comments ? And have opinions ? And call me names and put me down?? Wtf does MY life and MY choices and MY decisions have any impact on other people?!?
If I actually had nothing to lose i would take down anyone who deserves it in a firey chaotic mess. Thank God I have something to lose. It's the only thing (for now) that's keeping me from breaking.
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a glimpse of intimacy
pairing: august moor x darth maul
word count: 1.036k
warnings: none! two star-crossed lovers being idiots, maul being grumpy
a/n: this was only supposed to be a little blurb, but this is what it has turned into. enjoy my chaotic messes not knowing how to interact with one another properly. for some context, she's not supposed to be there, and he's a sith lord while she's a jedi padawan.
“stop playing around with things you have no knowledge of. you’re going to spread your jedi filth with those tiny fingers of yours.”
his tone is icy, undeniably cold as she wandered around the confines of the ship, absentmindedly playing with a variety of bells and buttons, whether it was pressing them experimentally or toying with the levers. the zabrak winced as shrill whistles shrieked out, prompting her to stop.
“you’re the one who drug me on your pathetic little ship anyways,” the words were laced with a venomous barb, fiery yet so cruel off her tongue, “if i recall correctly, you cornered me in that alleyway, demanding that i come with you or else you’d execute me.”
“have i executed yet?” the zabrak’s brow arched every so slightly, “you know why i cornered you. i could feel you crying for me in your force signature. you practically begging for me to follow you. don’t be coy with me, august.”
rain drummed against the roof of the ship, echoing through the static space as the zabrak shivered, discarding his cloak. august’s breath hitched in her throat as she noticed his hands nimbly removing the first few layers of his robe, tossing them to the floor. a shudder ran down her spine as the fabric clung to her skin, sopping wet, strands of hair clinging to her forehead.
gods, there was always rain when he came.
“i can hear your teeth chattering from here,” maul snorted, wiping a droplet off his cheek, “do you need a change of clothes? not sure how your little friends would feel about the sudden wardrobe change.”
yet, the words were only white noise in her ears as he spoke.
there was this nagging sensation, almost as if some sort of entity was whispering in her ear, only enabling the thoughts running rampant through her mind. she clenched her jaw as the sensation seeped lower, clutching at her heart, nearly squeezing it.
gods, there was this tightness in her chest, attempting to suppress her racing heart.
hesitantly, she raised her left hand, fingers extending, feeling drawn to the intricate tattoos. how they stood out in contrast to his crimson skin, “c-can i touch you?”
maul nearly choked on his own spit, his muscles tensing at the inquiry.
yet, there was this aching, this yearning, enticed at the idea that such a beautiful being like her would ever want to touch a monster like him. he was grotesque. ugly. did she not notice the horns sprouting from his skull? the sharp features? the eerie glow in his gaze?
the words still came tumbling from his mouth, a breathy and pleading noise.
“i-if you would like.”
there were only a few steps before the space between them was filled, and she wasted no time going about it, springing forward.
fingertips brushed maul’s chest, tracing the ink. the zabrak’s heartbeat nearly ceased as she caressed the area over his hearts, going about in circles and shapes. her hand trailed down, the touch so utterly blissful to the zabrak. her fingers were soft and gentle, hand tiny in comparison to his broad chest.
it had been too long since he had felt something so.. intimate. maker, was it so euphoric watching her fingers dance, gliding over every crevice, brushing over the scars.
august’s eyes were focused, full of admiration, “you, your species. you’re so beautiful. did this hurt when it was tattooed?”
he was gorgeous. a divine being. a man birthed from all of the beauty of the galaxy. maker, she was not worthy enough to be in such close proximity, feeling the muscles tense and relax underneath her. feeling how his hearts spiraled, beating so fast as he crumbled away by the second.
and yet, he remained there, granting her all of this permission.
giving her this opportunity to see him for who he was. a mere zabrak, attempting to find some clothes after getting caught in the rain.
warmth spread into maul’s chest, consuming him whole. his breathing picked up, shallow and ragged as she laid another hand on his chest, fully enveloping him with her touch. this time, the tips of her fingers followed lines across his collarbone, going in a slight crescendo down the lengths of his arms. her hands stopped at his hands, intertwining their fingers together experimentally.
his lashes fluttered, a rumble in his throat brewing as she continued, the feelings within the confines of his mind indescribable.
“it was quite painful,” maul breathed, finding it increasingly more and more difficult to find the words, “b-but it’s tradition.”
“hmmm,” she hummed, the zabrak’s gaze raking over her soaking wet frame, “i see.”
he could sense her thudding heart, how the blood roared in her ears. it was almost as if she knew she shouldn’t be this close. that she shouldn't touch.
almost as if she knew how dangerous this was.
she coughed ever so slightly, her hands remaining on his chest. his skin was burning now, nearly scalding. was he always this warm? so inviting? she could stay wrapped up in his arms for eternity. only if it meant she could feel that delightful heat.
“i’m not sure how much longer i can-”
maul’s hand grasped august’s chin, tilting her head upwards, satisfied that her cheeks were glowing a rosy shade, “you know, august, you have nothing to be afraid of.”
“but you’re a-”
“you should worry less about titles angel,” he tsked, “and a little more about how weak you make me.”
“is that such a bad thing?” the jedi arched a brow, pursing her lips ever so slightly.
her pout was enough to make his knees buckle, the zabrak finding it harder and harder to avoid from falling into those stormy depths, enamored completely by the way her features glowed in the low light, the droplets of water only glistening on her skin.
there were no stars out, but they sure glittered in those eyes. those damn eyes.
his fingers drifted across her cheek, tangling into her roots as his lips hovered over hers.
“no, because if my mind were to become invaded with thoughts of you, i would let them in. i would let them in with no fight at all.”
☆☆☆☆☆
tagging: @kenobislittleangel @xcertaindarkthingsx @ghost-lantern @galacticdream @fandom-gal44 @calamity-queen
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background: empty nester
skill proficiencies: insight, perception, one additional proficiency of your choice
tool proficiencies: herbalism kit, one type of gaming set
equipment: a set of common clothes, fishing tackle, a flask, a mess kit, and a scrapbook containing your most precious family memories.
Feature: Mid-Life Crisis
You’re finally embracing spontaneity after the repetition of daily life. You have the admiration of other ordinary folk who also yearn for the carefree life of an adventurer. Furthermore, you’re inclined to make some reckless decisions, like buying a boat or adopting a python, but your resolve never wavers in the face of doing something you’ve never done before. You have advantage on attacks with weapons you are not proficient in as your enthusiasm gives you an edge.
Hobby: Every empty nester needs a way to pass the time now that the kids are out of the house. What did you pick up? (roll 1d6)
Bowling league
Car(t) maintenance
Essential oil MLM scam
Community theatre
Model town assembly
Gym membership
Suggested Characteristics: You know you’re not cut out for the adventuring life, but you’ll be damned if you let it stop you. You just don’t have formal training, but you’re a go-getter, or at least game to try something new.
Personality Traits (d8)
Look, I’m fun! This adventuring thing has nothing to do with my sense of malaise in my daily life! I can totally handle a sword!
Back in my day, there weren’t any adventurers to rescue your village if it was besieged by a dragon. Townspeople these days are so entitled.
You know, this whole problem could just be solved if we went out and talked this evil necromancy scheme over at brunch. Who wants a Bloody Mary?
It’s one +1 sword, Maracnar, how much could it cost? A thousand platinum?
I just got divorced, I’m not looking for a relationship, but maybe me and that bartender could get into some trouble together...
I don’t have a favorite child, of course not...well, one is a famous lawyer and engaged, and the other is still at wizard university and hasn’t been on a date in months...but I don’t have a favorite, don’t be silly.
Live, Laugh, Love, I’m so #blessed to have a family that loves me so much, but I’m happy to leave them at home for months at a time.
This adventure is just like that spring break I spent on the Sword Coast, man, that was one wild week, I was doing shots off a---is that a mindflayer?
Ideals (d6)
Purpose. My kids were my life’s work. Now that they’re grown, I need a new reason to get up in the morning. (Lawful)
Fun. You have to lead a stable lifestyle when you’re a parent. But after raising children, it’s time to raise hell. (Chaotic)
Love. Maybe it’s a little saccharine, but taking care of each other is what life is all about. (Good)
Discord. Life is a PTA bake sale. Cutthroat and competitive. And if I’m going down, I’m taking everyone with me. (Evil)
Fulfillment. We all have goals when we’re young, before life gets in the way. Maybe now is the time to finally live our dreams. (Neutral)
Experience. It’s a big world out there, and I want to see it all. (Any)
Bond (d6)
My divorce was ugly, but I’m still secretly in love with my former spouse.
I married young and I was never happy as a parent, and the guilt is killing me.
I love my children more than life itself. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.
My irresponsible spending drove my family into debt. I ran out on them and changed my name to become an adventurer.
My spouse and children have a much longer lifespan than I do; I don’t want them to watch me grow old.
I know I am just a trophy for my successful partner. I would be a worthless nobody without them.
Flaw (d6)
I get all my news from unreliable sources, and repeat what I hear as God’s honest truth.
I’m addicted to the rush I get from spilling gossip; I can’t keep a secret to save my life.
I don’t believe in magical healing. Don’t you know necromancy magic causes zombification?
I’m obsessed with whether or not I show signs of aging and go to great lengths to maintain a youthful appearance.
I led a charmed life, and struggle to adjust to the rough living of an adventurer.
I insist on being spoken to with respect, whether or not I’ve earned it, and won’t listen to you otherwise.
Inspired by @andtheremustbetowers and @returnsandreturns.
If you like what we do, consider supporting us on Ko-Fi!
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Oikawa headcanons | SFW & NSFW
Nobody asked for this, but I just love him so much. Thinking of making this a series and expanding to other pretty HQ boys ^^
O I K A W A T O O R U | S F W
Good with his hands. His fingers are long and slender and calloused, but incredibly nimble. Loves braiding hair. Knows all the basics and is damn good at them too.
Likes cuddling, but loves to be cuddled. If you initiate cuddling, homeboy just melts. Hold him close and run your hands through his hair. Being the best setter around Miyagi means he’s always taking care of his team, so he’s super appreciative of small moments when he can just relax in someone else’s arms.
Usually you two are just a mess of limbs in bed. His arms loose around you, his legs tangled with yours under a sky quilted with stars. It’s chaotic, but comforting.
He loves falling asleep with you. He tries to not fall asleep before you do (which fails half the time lol) because his favourite moment is the space in between. When you’re asleep and he’s drifting and the whole world feels ethereal. In the quiet hours of the night, when the world is slow and soft, that’s when his dreams feel closer than ever, especially with you by his side.
We all know this boy is obsessed with volleyball, but he’s also a star nerd. He adores the starry skies and is always trying to teach you about it. Stargazing dates. Meteor shower reminders sneakily put into your calendar. Flirty texts telling you about rare celestial events. Wrapped in blankets and cradling hot cups of tea, amidst the cold night and icy winds, you and Oikawa have seen as far as the four moons of Jupiter through his telescope.
His love languages are words of affirmation, gift giving and quality time. He doesn’t always have time for you since the man lives and breathes volleyball, so he makes sure that the time you do have together is meaningful. He likes coming home with surprises for you. Never anything big, sometimes something silly and always something that makes you smile.
Is totally the type of person to bring you a Hershey’s kiss as a meme on date night though. (dw, he always makes it up to you later).
Definitely a Slytherin. No contest.
His favourite subject is literature. Hates the concept of “the chosen one” and is into surprisingly dark subject matter. He’s probably into Greek tragedies, tbh. Relates to the hero’s downfall whilst also refusing to fall to the same fate.
Cannot handle spice for the life of him. Mild all the way for this boi.
Would never wear ugly Christmas sweaters with you. They go against his pretty setter aesthetic. Would totally wear disgustingly cute matching outfits with you though.
An ass man for sure. His favourite outfit on you is tight jeans and a pretty top. Ya boi’s a bit of a sucker for the elegance in simplicity.
NSFW under the cut, ya filthy animals ;)
O I K A W A T O O R U | N S F W
Likes having his hair pulled. Not too roughly, but deep kisses with your fist in his hair is a massive turn-on for him. One of the easiest ways to get him in the mood.
Is a massive tease. To him, there’s nothing better than watching you squirm, getting you all hot and bothered, feeling the slick between your legs and knowing it’s all for him. It’s heady, it’s hot, it’s a power trip and he thrives in your heavy breathing and soft whimpers for him.
Switch. Either way, he never loses his quips and wit. He’s always got something smartass to say to you. It’s one of his charms. Plays it up for playful punishment during sub-play.
He’s willing to try almost anything with you. In fact, he quite enjoys being pegged when the mood strikes. Just don’t suggest anything involving other people. This man has been fighting for his place his whole life; the thought that he may not be enough for you would crush him.
(he might be willing if it was iwaizumi though… )
Slow and sensual sex with this man is a gift from the gods. He knows how to please. Long kisses. Tender touches. Deep thrusts while he gazes into your eyes and tells you how much he loves you. How good you feel. How good you make him feel. Treasure these nights. They are jewels in the dark.
Gives oral liberally and enjoys it too. This boy’s tongue works fast with words, but it works even faster with the taste of you in his mouth. Nimble fingers and a talented tongue make for a deadly combo.
Prefers handjobs over blowjobs. Loves getting a handjob from you while you kiss his neck. Blowjobs are hot too, but there’s just something so fucking sexy when your lips ghost over his neck, your hand tugging on his cock and your fingers clenched in his hair.
Oikawa would never scream or groan loudly enough for the neighbours to hear, but he does make a lot of noise. Soft grunts. Loud gasps. Moans. Lots of muttered curses and gibberish. Your name. A lot. You make him feel good and he wants to make damn sure you know it too.
Aftercare from him is the best. He knows he’s used you. He knows you’re tired. So he’s incredibly gentle with you. He’ll press tender kisses to your forehead, rub the soreness from your body and clean you up. He’ll make you warm tea and food if you’re hungry. This boy will take care of anything you need with hearts in his eyes.
#oikawa#oikawa headcanons#oikawa tooru#haikyu#hq#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyu!!#hq oikawa#i am trash for writing this
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Soiled Tea
Chapter 23: Blitzo gets home and contemplates things.
Warnings: As always, mpreg, and brief mentions of underage drinking. Generally shitty thoughts about babies.
Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!
Ao3 link
“Blitz.” There was a pounding on his door, and it took a few seconds to process that it was Loona. “You’ve been in there for like three hours. The fuck happened?”
“Piss off!” Blitzo called back, scrolling mindlessly down Voxtagram with only a pause to scrub at his sore eyes. The phone buzzed with another text from Stolas, and he swiped it up without looking like the last twelve. A growl rumbled from behind at the door, and the scratch of Loona’s claws dragged down the wood.
“Fine, don’t tell me! It’s not like I care either way, I just want to know if you’re going to start bitching at me over whatever it is!” Loona’s weight creaked the floorboards as she padded away from the door, mere moments before Blitzo’s stomach growled.
Oh. Right. He hadn’t eaten properly in days, and the little fucker was going to be feeling that.
...It’d be easier to starve the bastard if it wouldn’t hurt him too. He only realized that his fingers had dug into his stomach when the red glow fluttered in and out, and his teeth gritted as he pushed himself off the bed, the creak reminding him how badly he needed a new mattress and frame. Stolas sleeping on it the other day couldn’t have helped, and it was going to collapse under him one of these days. There was probably some kind of metaphor in there he didn’t feel like puzzling through at the moment.
Moping later. Food now. He was pretty sure they’d stocked up a few days ago, so unless Loona had eaten everything since he’d been out, he could make some cup noodles and curl back up on the bed in peace. Loona was draped over the couch with screams and gorey splatters echoing from the TV when he exited his room, and she raised an eyebrow at seeing him mere moments after he’d told her to piss off. Blitzo sighed.
“Look, I just want to bury my sorrow in some cheap-ass junk right now, got it?”
She pointed to the freezer. “Try the strawberry scoop.”
“Thanks, dear.” First he needed to get the noodles, though. Blitzo opened the cabinet, reaching for the cups before brushing against a small bag. Why did he have a bag in the…?
His fingers froze, touching the edge of the packet- it was Stolas’s tea from their café meeting, tied with a pretty little bow. He’d mostly been over the nausea hump by the time he’d gotten it so it had been stuffed in the back of the cabinet, and right now, it was leaned against a partially-opened hot chocolate packet that must have been years old. It made the wood smell both moldy and chocolatey-fresh. Over the last few weeks, the powder had seeped into the mix of the tea- and probably ruined it too. There was an ant curled up in front of the fancy little bag which was almost certainly dead, flat on its back with legs curled heavenward.
The thing was moving again, but when he smacked the side of his stomach, it turned over a little with a shudder and stopped. Progress.
His hands were shaking by the time he pulled the noodles out from next to the tea (and next to the hot chocolate, and some expired crackers, and the little baggie of rat poison he’d borrowed from Millie and Moxxie’s closet) and began boiling the water to prepare them the same way he’d done hundreds of times before. No thinking required. The TV droned on in the living room, but the volume was low and he could still hear the water dripping from the leak over the fridge and his own heartbeat.
Casually, he leaned back against the countertop as he waited for the water to soak in, then realized that angle made the bump stick out even more, and also that he’d never actually taken off Stolas’s shirt. The knot in the back was thick and hard on his back, and it pressed on his protruding vertebrae against the granite. He tapped the end of his tail next to a stray protein bar wrapper on the countertop before sweeping it towards the trash. It missed, fluttering down to the dirty floor like a dying moth. Blitzo scooped up the cup, stabbing the top with a fork before bringing it back to his room and turning on a video of some idiot screaming at video games to drown out whatever thoughts couldn't be suppressed otherwise.
Loona didn’t bother him for the rest of the night, but he could hear her slam the fridge’s door shut and pop open a can of something around ten. He peeled off the shirt and went to bed.
__________________
An hour after going to bed, he realized that the sex-sweat stuck to his skin was itchy, sticky, and smelled like shit. He managed to last approximately fifteen more minutes before dragging himself off the bed and crawling into the shower, flipping on the water and twisting it to scalding. He didn’t bother to scrub anything down, simply letting the pounding water pelt into his body until the caked sweat slid off like a bug shedding its skin.
Loona was still in the living room, playing some kind of racing game. They made eye contact for a few seconds and she sighed, chucking him a chocolate bar that she’d fished out of the cushions at some point during the night when he’d been in his room.
Sure, she couldn’t actually eat it herself anyway, but the gesture was nice, even though his teeth felt kind of fuzzy when he flopped back on the bed again after pulling on a worn-out band tee that had become a crop top at some point even before the pregnancy.
__________________
The kid was moving. Of course they were. It wasn’t like he could ask for sleep or for them to allow him to pretend they didn’t exist for a few hours, could he? They were just a lump of stupid meat, they didn't know any better than being an annoying pest that their daddy couldn't stand. He screamed into the pillow again. It didn’t help.
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Maybe he could join the circus again. He had new, better jokes now. Like his life. (That one would have gotten a laugh, or at least it would have with a crowd that wasn’t drunk off its ass- or maybe that would have been the exact audience for it. Kids were never drunk enough, and the ones whose parents shoved bottles at them to get them to shut up just puked everywhere. Their taste buds weren't developed enough yet, it just tasted like piss half the time before you got used to it. He still remembered the smell of the cheesy chips incident.)
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Had Stolas planned this all along? He’d sure as fuck seemed to think that Blitzo had already known what the deal was, and maybe he’d wondered a little, but come on, the guy had been so excited, anybody would have figured that he wanted to be the one to raise it. Babies were (literally) shitty little leeches on the lives of whoever was unlucky enough to pop them out, but Stolas had been so pumped for another kid, obviously he’d wanted to raise it. This was entirely his fault. This was entirely his fault. Blitzo was a smart guy, he'd find some way to get out of this. He'd made it this far, hadn't he?
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Could he get out of this? He tried to remember exactly how the deal had been phrased, but then realized that Stolas would probably yank the book back if he did manage to find some way to kill the thing without offing himself. Well, shit. That’d suck, and he’d probably lose Moxxie and Millie in the bargain, and then him and Loona would get chucked out on the concrete and have to forage for scraps until they managed to mug some particularly wealthy sinner. Could you pass on syphilis through bites? Loonie’d probably know. It was something to keep in mind as a potential threat.
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Did orphanages do speed dial? No, Stolas would find it somehow. He probably had some kind of magic tracking device for occasions like this.
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God damn he needed a better mattress. He could still feel the indent where Stolas had been if he rolled over just right, and he smacked at it until it felt like the rest of the bed.
It didn’t actually help that much, but at least when one spot got hot, he could roll over a little to the cooler half without sinking in.
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What would it even look like? Would it be kind of cute or some mutant monstrosity? Both its dads were hot, so it would have to have something going for it if it wasn’t just some horrible moaning mess of feathers and patchy skin.
He hadn’t really minded the thought of being, like, an uncle or some shit. There for the fun parts, popping in like twice a month to jingle keys above its face and teach it to play paintball. If Barbie had squeezed something out after fucking around when they were still a duo act he could have dealt with that as long as they didn’t have to sleep in the same room- he didn’t really mind kids that much in small doses. They could be fun little chaotic monsters, even though they were judgmental as shit and smelled fear.
With this, though, he couldn’t just hand it back when he got bored, and he always, always got bored or scared or- fuck, not thinking about that.
He would try scrolling Voxtagram again, but he came across an ad for maternity wear before trying to go to sleep the first time and nearly chucked the phone.
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The only thing that kept him from rolling off the bed and grabbing a hard drink to knock him out, baby be damned, was the fact that he’d found a spot that almost was comfortable in the sheets now soaked with sweat again. Unfortunately, the clock said it was 5:13 AM.
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The alarm blared directly in Blitzo’s ear and he whapped it with a pillow, slamming it off the bedside table and into the floor. It was definitely broken now from the horrid cracking noise, and he groaned, scrubbing at his eyes. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuck."
“Morning, sleeping ugly,” Loona said as she gargled mouthwash in the sink. She had the bags under her eyes that probably matched his and said she’d been drinking more than usual last night. Smart kid. He’d picked one that he could be a parent to without changing diapers for a reason- so he could be supportive to an actual person and not just a screaming little meat-lump that couldn’t even drink or smoke yet. Maybe Stolas could make it magically grow up so he wouldn't have to deal with that shit? “You gonna finally tell me what the fuck happened? You look like you watched the apartment blow up and you smell even worse.”
“Come on, honey, I showered-” Blitzo cleared his throat. To be fair, sex-stink didn't come off that easily when you were going at it for days, and Loona had always had a real sensitive nose. “Daddy’s maaaaaybe got a little tiny problem,” he muttered, and she raised an eyebrow.
“And that problem is? Usually, you’ll be upfront about why you’re being a whiny-“
“Apparently,” he started, and his tone made Loona’s mouth snap shut, “Stolas thought I was going to be the one actually raising the little bastard.”
“What the fuck? You two didn’t clear this up months ago?” Her claws dug into the counter as one eye twitched, and a bit of mouthwash foam dripped off her chin.
“I didn’t think we’d have to! He wanted the thing, he’d take it, that made sense!” He dragged a hand down his face, and Loona leaned back against the sink, crossing her arms. The foam hit her top, soaking in next to the left tit.
“So get rid of it.”
“I can’t, he enchanted my guts.” Blitzo snatched a butter knife smeared with long-dried jam off the table and aimed it at his stomach- moments before it touched the skin, red flashed. His hand shot to the side, preventing anymore more than a slight scratch. “I don’t even want to know what’d happen if I tried to take a pill or something and puked it up. Explode, probably.”
Loona sighed. “Well, this is fuckin’ peachy.” She crossed the kitchen, grabbing some toast that popped up, pressing more down and dropping the plain bread with a pad of butter on the side on a plate in front of him. “Toss it at an orphanage.”
“It’s gonna be a freak, it’d probably just get mauled. Imp kids are vicious, especially orphans, they’ve all gotta fight for table scraps.”
“Why would you care?” Loona shifted a little on her seat. “You get rid of it either way.”
“Stolas’d kill me.”
“He likes your dick too much, he wouldn’t. I’m not changing diapers. Why can’t he take it again?”
“He thought his wife would shank the fucker. Considering she tried to stab me, it’s probably not that far off. I’ll find some way to-” he yawned. “To pawn it off or something. Maybe we find somebody that likes exotic pets.” His head swam with visions of a shiny, gilded cage containing a little feathered imp that wore sequins and hissed at anything that got too close. He stabbed at the butter. “I don’t want this either, alright?”
“But you went along with having it anyway, and with me, you wanted-” She cut herself off and drummed her fingers against her bicep. “This is your fuck-up, I’m just saying don’t drag me into it.”
“Very reassuring, thank you,” Blitzo muttered, sarcasm thick enough to gore like it was a pig. "We have any coffee?"
"I finished it the other night. We can go to that place on Sixth before work." Loona snatched her own toast as it popped up too quickly to actually have toasted any and stuffed it in her mouth plain, tearing off a bite and chewing in a way that was reminiscent of thoughtful. “I don’t think he’d be nice enough to let you die when it pops out, and you screw up all the time and haven’t completely ruined your life yet. You can figure shit out from there. Maybe we can sell them on the black market and move out of this fucking dump, or you can flutter your eyelashes and get him to change his mind. Worst comes to worst, it's sharing your room.”
“Thanks, Loonie,” Blitzo mumbled around a mouthful of bread. “Always know how to cheer me up.”
The phone buzzed, and he was about to ignore it again until he saw that it was from Millie.
“Still at Stolas’s or coming in to work today Blitz? Moxx and I miss you :)’
Blitzo wiped crumbs on his pants and groaned before typing back.
‘yeh im coimin back’
He added extra jam to the bread before shoving the rest in his mouth, and the kid kicked his bladder hard enough that he almost pissed himself right at the table.
Today was gonna be fuckin’ peachy.
#lotsa little headcanon-y sprinklings throughout here#shadow writes stuff#one time#helluva mpreg#helluva boss#mpreg#daddy blitzo#tagging the main tag because why not
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Lamia Drama Part 10
DND PLANNING IS HERE AT LAST. >:D
I don’t think there’s anything impenetrable to non-DnD fans here... But here’s some basics on the classes anyways:
Monks are fast and good at fist to fist fighting, barbarians are tanky berserkers, sorcerers have inborn magic, druids have nature magic, clerics have god-granted magic, warlocks make pacts with patrons, fighters just got good with weapons and standard melee fighting.
Again, I’ll tag and link properly later, gotta go get foooood. But nothing majorly angsty anyways.
Previous Beginning Next
Keith took a deep breath as everyone settled around the table, hands stuffed firmly in his pockets. A mixture of excitement and nerves were bunched up inside his soul and he hoped Alex couldn’t feel it, though she seemed genuinely clueless so far. Either that, or a far better roleplayer than he anticipated. The tip of his tail was sweeping back and forth on the floor as he scratched lightly at the insides of his pockets, desperate to find some way to dissipate some of his energy. Still, he wasn’t going to start until everyone was settled in.
It was a round table, easy to see everyone. Keith had offered Alex a spot on his left. Oozy was sitting on her left, then Nikolai, then Liam, then Hux, then Keith. Trousle had claimed the middle of the table.
Most had already gotten their drinks ready, but Hux was buying some chips from the vending machine… Or rather, he was convincing Nikolai to buy him chips from the vending machine, given that he was the one who actually had a paycheck. Alex had bought herself a tea from the vending machine and Liam had prepared his “Health Potion” which was really just an extra-sour red cherry slushy. Also…
“I’ve brought you all some snacks, no need to thank me,” Liam said, plopping a Tupperware full of chocolate and peanut butter no-bake cookies on the table. He crossed his arms and smirked, head held high.
Alex did a double-take, looking at her bag, “When did you…?!”
Keith stifled a laugh, “Liam, no.” He was pretty sure Alex intended to share those anyways, and his own mouth was already watering, but still.
“Liam yes!” Liam said, cackling dramatically.
Hux already had a cookie in his mouth.
Nikolai lightly swatted him, “Ask first…”
“What,” Hux said through a mouthful of cookie. “They’re to share.”
“I mean, yes… Go ahead, but not gonna lie, I’ll probably eat way too many by myself,” Alex said, grabbing a cookie.
“See?” Hux said.
Nikolai rolled his eyes and politely took one – he didn’t care much for sweets, but wouldn’t turn it down. He gave one of the smaller globs to Trousle, and Keith took that as a go-ahead. It practically melted in his mouth, cocoa and peanut butter melting into a sweet cream as the oats gave it just enough weight to count as solid matter. It was deliciously rich, not over-sweet, but still very much a dessert. He was tempted to reach for another, but maybe he should hold back…
Well Alex has already gotten a plate and taken four, so no reason he can’t have another…
“How did you do that by the way? I didn’t even hear the zipper,” Alex said, looking to Liam.
“A great hunter never reveals his secrets~”
“He’s sneaky, you have to watch out for him,” Nikolai said. “But speaking of which, I was actually thinking of trying out a rogue…”
“Daaaang. Playing against type?” Hux said. “Ain’t like you to be anything but a healer.”
Nikolai shrugged, “I figured I’d give it a try.”
“Respect,” Hux said. “That said, I’m making a Totem Barbarian.”
Trousle rolled his eyes, “You never play anything else!”
“It works, don’t it?”
“It’s boring!”
“I have to agree,” Liam said. “It’s like you’re just playing the same person every time…”
Keith decided to cut in before this could get ugly, “Let him play what he wants.” If Hux wanted to play the same character with a name change, then let him. It’s a game, might as well have fun with it.
“Thank you,” Hux said.
“Alex, what’re you thinking?” Keith said.
“I mean, I’ve got a lot of characters I could maybe use? Do you have a setting in mind, or…?”
“Go nuts dude,” Keith said. “As long as it ain’t completely broken, I’m down for most things.”
Alex’s face lit up. “In that case… Gimme a minute here.” She pulled a notebook from her bag and started scribbling furiously, making little bullet points, rambling in words, all sorts of things. It was a chaotic, disorganized mess, and Keith could absolutely feel the excitement pouring off of her, making it even harder to sit still. Apparently she felt the same, her foot was shaking a mile a minute, and any time she wasn’t writing, her pencil tapped against the page.
Trousle slithered over, peaking at her notes, and Liam leaned over smiling like a cat with a canary. They were probably happy to have another roleplayer at the table.
Hux, however, was glaring at Alex’s foot, “Can… can you not? Like, that’s kinda distracting.”
“Hmm?” Alex said. “Ah… sorry. Which part?”
“Stop shaking your damn foot.”
Alex nodded, crossing her legs. Keith bit his tongue – it was a reasonable request, but he was tempted to hiss at Hux. He dug his claws into the insides of his hoodie instead, feeing the fabric catch and finding the little hole he’d worn in his left pocket. It didn’t feel like enough, he wanted to move, wanted to do something to let out some of this pent up energy – since when did he have this much anyways?
Alex started rocking in her chair, making it clack as it hit the floor – it was off balance – and some of his anxiousness subsided as he listened to the steady rhythm of clacking.
“… dude,” Hux said. “That’s not any better! That’s actively worse!”
Keith was tempted to tell him to shove it up his ass, but thankfully Nikolai spoke first, “Just let her. No one else is bothered, are you?”
“Nope,” Keith said.
Trousle and Liam shook their heads.
“Fine…”
“Do you want me to do this somewhere else?” Alex said.
“Yer fine,” Keith said. “Whatcha thinking about anyways?” Change the topic…
She perked up a little at that, looking over her notes, “I was thinking maybe a warlock contracted out by the Fey? That seems kinda obvious though, so I figured, why does it have to be a warlock? I’ve already made a lot of those anyways.
“So, like… Here’s another idea. Maybe my character got traded away as a kid? Like a changeling sort of thing! They’ve lived with the fey for a lot of their life, but didn’t have the magic they did since they’re just a normal human. But they’ve had some opportunity to learn since, y’know, they’ve lived in fae realms. I’m thinking maybe the magic infected them somehow and they ended up a wild magic sorcerer? Or maybe got CURSED and ended up a sorcerer! And maybe they’ll meet the person who replaced them one day, and they’re used to contracts and stuff, and, uh…
“It’s still kind of rough. I put this together in, like, five minutes guys.”
“I think I can work with this…” Liam purred. “I want to play the changeling that replaced her character in the mortal realm.”
“OH THAT’S REALLY COOL!” Alex squealed, bouncing in her seat.
“Dude, you can’t have all the fae abilities, y’know that, right?” Keith said. He tended towards rule of fun, but there still had to be SOME boundaries…
“I’d be disappointed if you did! At least, not right off the bat. My character’s been raised as human and only knows of the mortal realm. Perhaps a fighter… With shades of sorcerer. We can work it out.”
“I like it! I might change my class though, is that okay?” Alex said. “I’m not really sure which to use for this…”
“Can I be a fairy companion? Maybe I was sent to watch over Liam’s character and that’s how he started finding out about his heritage? Or to protect him? Maybe he’s important!” Trousle said. “I can take healer and support! Maybe a cleric? Or a druid! Yeah! A druid!”
Keith grinned, these guys were putting it all together themselves! “Y’know what, go for it!” This was practically writing itself…
“In this case… I think I’ll play a rogue who specializes in shady political dealings. Particularly fey contracts,” Nikolai said.
“Sounds perfect to me.”
“I, uh… I work for Nikolai’s dude. Contracted barbarian, I guess,” Hux said. Roleplay was never his strong suit.
Keith nodded, “I’ll get to drafting stuff…. And Oozy?”
… Oozy yawned, waking up from a half-doze. “Hmm? Oh… sorry. Yeah, I made one while you guys were talking.” He slid a character sheet over.
Keith raised the ridge of his eye-socket, “A gnome monk?”
“Yep. It’s gonna be terrible.” He grinned, a twinkle in his eyes. “Or more accurately… A G’nome G’ninja.”
“Pffft. Perfect,” Keith said.
Looks like they had a campaign.
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Summer bummer pt.2
y/n x harry pairing
summary- y/n and Harry are part of a cast of a reality show called ‘summer bummer’ that’s a uk version of the jersey shore and things are chaotic
pnot proofread, not sure if its any good pt.2
_3.9k words
Waking up smooshed between a warm body and a hard wooden wall was what Y/n was currently experiencing, but soon the pounding headache and nausea took the front seat in her brain as she let out a low groan shifting in the hold of the man beside her as she sat up rubbing her eyes, mascara from the night before flaking onto her fist getting another irritated groan to bubble in her throat.
“quiet, try’n sleep here” Harry mumbled and turned over as she climbed out of his bed yawning and stumbling to the bathroom, peeing and taking off her messy makeup from the night before, taking a quick shower and going back upstairs to her shared room to change into some comfy shorts and a big sweatshirt pulling the hood over her damp hair to help block the brightness that’s making her head pound like a drum.
Y/n made her way into the confessional room, sitting on the couch in front of the green screen and turning on the camera the producers had there for them to do their periodic self interviews.
“so it’s like noon, I just woke up and I realized ‘holy shit, im in bed with Harry’…” she made a point to tilt her head and widen her eyes at the camera showing her bit of shock at the situation. “I was blackout wasted last night, the last thing I remember was dancing and making out with him so I’m gonna wait till he’s up to ask if we did the deed or not because I don’t remember, god first day in the house and I’m already blacking out.” She paused to laugh at herself a little before continuing, “ugh, we’ll see. My moms gonna kill me when she see this episode_- fuck_”
She sighed as she turned off the camera and went back out into the living room where some of her roommates were, all of them sleepy and hungover chatting to themselves but Y/n raised an eyebrow when she noticed Tommy give her a side eye and stop talking when she walked into the room, the camera men that were in the house filming panning their cameras between the two young adults.
“what? Why are you looking at me like that?” she didn’t waste any time in brining attention to his behavior, not in the mood for the pricks little attitude problem getting a scoff and a snarky little turn of his lips as he waved her off like a dog, and Y/n was having none of it. She stood up straighter, squaring her shoulders and pointing at the man. “Obviously you have a fucking problem so say it, fuck are you acting like a little bitch for? Thought you were a fucking tough guy.” She wasn’t scared of that guy In the slightest, he had the most punch worthy face she’s ever seen and god was he making the urge more prominent with every move of his ugly face.
“shut the fuck up bitch, you talk too fucking much. You talked shit about me at the club last night, probably just mad because I was making out with other girls and not giving your ugly ass any fucking attention you stupid bitch.” He glared at her giving her a disrespectful little smile and every other person in the room was now staring at the pair, engaged and waiting on the edge of their seats for what was gonna happen next.
Y/n couldn’t stop the laugh that came from her mouth, looking at Tommy like he was the stupidest person on the planet, because right now he sure did fit the description. “You’re joking right? I was saying how I felt sorry for those girls because you’re such a piece of shit wanker. You hit on me from the moment I walked in this house and pouty like a fucking baby when I told you to fuck off after dinner, it was on camera you prick. I’m perfectly content having you and your non existent lips far away from me.”
She was annoyed, but also amused. This guy had no fucking clue how much everyone already hated him and she loved it. He stayed silent for a minute and she took the chance to get closer to him pointing her finger right in his face, making eye contact with him, “watch who the fuck you call a bitch around here Tommy because I’ll punch you right in your smug fucking mouth, lets see how much of a tough guy you are when you get your teeth knocked in by a fucking girl.”
At this point Ryan was up off the couch and making his way between the two when he saw both of them getting even more agitated, Tom standing up and Y/n refusing to back down as he tried to intimidate her.
“alright guys, chill out. Drop it, it’s not a big deal don’t fight over stupid shit like this.” Ryan stuck his arm between them Tommy trying to push it away while Y/n started to tie up her hair yelling back and fourth with him as Ryan tried to keep them apart. “what you gonna fucking hit me Tom? Huh? You gonna hit a girl? Makes sense, you’re a pussy and act so tough till you’re throwing a tantrum when you don’t get your way. Gonna go cry to mommy because I didn’t want anything to do with you or your 2 inch dick?”
This comment of course got the reaction she was hoping, his face grew red and his body tensed just making her smirk more. “the fuck did you just say to me?” he was pissed, and Y/n was loving how she got him so mad over her comment, that’s how she knew she struck a nerve because it was definitely true. She even got some laughs from the roommates who were sitting around watching the show. Ryan turned so his left arm and part of his body was between them, looking at Tommy raising an eyebrow at him. “Watch it mate, you’re on thin ice. Lay a hand on a female in this house and you’ll never get to walk this earth again.”
Tommy clenched his jaw flickering his eyes between Ryan and Y/n like an angry child who didn’t get their way, and god was Y/n loving how he’s embarrassing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.
The pair continued to argue back and fourth, him trying to insult her and her pushing his buttons – (because lets face it, he was too damn easy)- and in the midst of it Harry decided to emerge from his room, hair a mess and all sleepy. His tattoos were on full display as his shirtless body started advancing towards the arguing duo. Y/n gasped when Harry pushed her back a bit to get right in Toms face using his large body to completely cover Y/n’s as he looked down at Tommy with stone cold eyes.
“Mate I suggest you fucking keep it moving because I’m not gonna put up with you being disrespectful to anyone in this house, let alone a younger girl who didn’t do anything to you. I won’t let her fight you, but I sure as hell have no problem pounding your face in. Step off before I make you, I promise you that you don’t want that.”
Harry’s tone was serious, his muscles were taunt and flexed as he towered over the other man. Tommy of course tried to play it off and muttered a ‘whatever asshole’ as he sulked off to his room, but everyone in there knew he was almost shitting his pants from how afraid he was of Harry.
Everyone took a second to take everything in before they really spoke. Ryan gave Harry a pat on the back, “Thanks mate, dudes a proper prick. And Y/n, you’re a bad ass fuckin’ girl, that was crazy!” he chuckled and shook his head, plopping down on the couch again as Harry turned to the girl raising and eyebrow as he looked down at her. “try to not get yourself involved in any more trouble, at least until I’ve had some fucking coffee. Was sleeping love, bit rude to wake me up for a brawl.”
Y/n laughed a little and pushed his chest, “Hey! I didn’t wake you up, I could have taken him I didn’t need you to jump in.” she put her hands on her hips and gave him a sassy little face, the man laughing in return. “ ‘m sure you could have, babbled last night about how you’re brothers taught you boxing growing up, but if that kid was to try to fight you I’d go down for a murder charge. Me mum taught me to respect women and women beaters aren’t in my good graces. Now you, miss thang need to keep your ass out of problems.”
Harry gave her the stern bossy eyes and she caved, nodding her head and pouting a little as he went into the kitchen and grabbed himself a Gatorade and some crackers nodding his head to the deck door, “ ‘cmere rocky, need to talk to you.” Harry teased her with the name, getting laughs from everyone including her as she walked out on the deck with him sitting down on one of the couches as he fed himself.
“need to talk to you about last night.” He mumbled through a mouthful of sports drink getting a nod from Y/n as she tried her best to ignore the camera getting a little too close for comfort. “Wanted to ask you about it too, was waiting till you got up..i’m just gonna ask, did we bang?” she twisted her stray hairs around her pointer finger as she asked, slightly nervous for the answer.
Harry shook his head laughing a little bit to himself. “Nope, told you I wasn’t gonna do anything when you were drunk unless I talked to sober you about it first. Plus, love if we would have fucked you would still feel me. wouldn’t have to ask because your trouble walking would answer that question for you sweetheart.” Harry wore a slight smirk on his lips as he said it, watching the younger girl roll her eyes and lick over her lips. “god you’re such a boy.”
“No, sweetheart. I’m a man, a gentlemen actually. Not like the little boys where you’re from, I’m a grown man love and I’m cocky because I know I have the skills to back it up. Maybe you’ll get lucky to experience that yourself sometimes little girl.”
Y/n was a bit in shock. She was turned on, overwhelmed and a little bit offended by his attitude but god if she wasn’t turned on. “Oh my god. I can’t, guys are too much for me right now. I might have to take up Selena’s offer and become a lesbian over summer because you guys are stressing me out!”
Y/n smacked his arm playfully and Harry grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand to his mouth and kissing her knuckled. “Yea, let’s see how long that lasts since last night you were almost In tears any time I broke the kiss to open the damn door. You’ll be knocking at my door by the end of the week guarantee it.”
“Ok mister confidence, shut up.” Y/n covered her face with her hands to hide her smile and growing blush, both of them just talking about the night before until the camera crew left for a while before they were going to go out that night.
“hey Harry?” Y/n stood in his doorway, calling out his name as he rummaged through his suitcase to find whatever he was looking for. “Whatsup love?” he peered at her for a second to let her know he was listening before going back to what he was doing “about what you said, sober me says if neither of us come home with someone we can fool around a bit, you have my permission. Just know I fully plan on bringing someone home tonight and I already called the spare room. I wanna start my summer off with good booze and an orgasm.”
Harry let out a little snort, pulling the brush he was looking for out of his bag and turning to Y/n, “I’ll keep that in mind, good luck with your plans tonight, I hope you get your wish and don’t end up with some dude who doesn’t know where the clit is.”
Y/n rolled her eyes, “Don’t speak that into existence asshole, if he fails me I’ll just do it the old fashion way.” This got the mans attention and his eyes to meet hers, “Old fashion way?” he rubbed his stubbly chin a bit, moving the brush between his right and left hand, “yea, just masturbate in the shower or whatever. I brought some tools that could lend a helping hand in that. I’ll make do.”
Harry had to stop himself from groaning. His mind flashed with images of her in the shower using toys on herself, biting a wash cloth to keep quiet since everyone’s here. He was able to collect himself after a few seconds and give her a playful smile nodding “sounds like a plan love, now get out of here it’s time to get ready.”
__
The music was blaring and the booze running through Y/n’s system made it ten times better, she was dancing- not caring about anything as she danced on this nice looking guy she met and who she decided she was gonna bring back that night and occupy the spare room she’d already called. He was tall, dark hair, tan just a typical good looking guy and the vodka helped make him look more attractive. She just hoped that he could give her what she so desperately needed. A good fucking.
“ ‘cmon, lets go now so we have extra time before my roommates get back, I wanna play.”
Little else was said between the two as they darted out of the club and back to the shared house, clothes coming off quickly as they got up the steps and now she’s panting, groping her tits while the stranger who she can’t remember the name of is tongue deep in her cunt. He’s average at giving head, but she’s desperate and so horny she doesn’t care.
Her hips rock against his mouth as he brings her right to the edge before stopping, Y/n let out a loud protest at this feeling the coil that was forming in her stomach and about to come undone fade.
“what the hell?!” she was pissed, and between her legs was aching at this point from needing attention. “I’m sorry, mouth got tired and I wanna fuck you now..” the man slipped his shirt off while Y/n laid under him, irritated but hopeful his cock can give her the relief she really needs.
But just her luck, it doesn’t. He lasts 5 minutes before he’s cumming into the condom and panting leaving Y/n angry and horribly deprived, and so she wasted no time in kicking him out and storming into her room, grabbing her black vibrator she had brought and marching to the bathroom turning the shower on getting it nice and arm before she stepped in.
__
Y/n had her head resting against the tile as she sat on the shower floor, legs spread and vibrator rubbing up and down her needy slit while her free hand was plunging 2 fingers in and out of herself. She always loved being fingered, but she wishes her fingers were just a bit longer as she worked herself letting herself be loud since no one else was in the house, but she just couldn’t reach the spot she needed to. It was so close yet so far, and she was so upset she was almost close to tears.
She was in the middle of a fit of cursing everyone in existence when a knock on the bathroom door made her jump, her heart almost burst from surprise and now she was wondering how long she’s been in here since her roommates weren’t coming back till at least 6 am.
“Can I come in? it gotta pee” the voice on the other side of the door asked loudly so she could hear them over the water, and when she realized it was Harry she yelled out an agreement, as soon as he opened the door she peaked her head around from behind the curtain to look at him while still shielding her body.
Harry chuckled a little bit and gave her a funny look, “Can I take a leak in private please?”. Y/n groaned and stomped her foot on the shower floor like a child. “Fine! Please pee and then get in the shower with me, I’m so horny it literally hurts and that guy lasted 5 minutes and I swear to god if I don’t get to cum I’m going to cry please!”
Harry stared at her for a moment, letting her words sink in pushing his hair off his face and shrugging. “what do you want me to do love?” he could see just how desperate she was, eyes close to tears, lip stuck between her teeth and he felt both bad for her but also so fucking turned on.
“Anything, please finger me? play with me? please I need it my fingers aren’t long enough and you said you’d play with me, I’m not even that drunk please Harry.”
Y/n didn’t care about the cameras in the hall that were probably picking up the audio, or how desperate and crazy she sounded, she needed his touch.
“Okay..Okay doll relax, let me do what I need to do and then I’ll join you alright?”
Y/n nodded and moved back behind the curtain, she took her original place sitting on the cool tile floor of spacious shower as he went to the bathroom before stripping down to his boxers and pulling the curtain back seeing the younger girl naked, legs spread a bit giving him a glimpse of how swollen and flushed between her legs was letting him know she was probably a bit too rough on herself when she got frustrated, which only made her problem worse.
Her tits sat perky on her chest, her nipples pebbled with water droplets running down over them before dripping off onto her thighs. Harry let out a low groan at the sight, “Have m’ boxers on just because I’m not gonna fuck ya’ , honestly don’t think I even can because I got whiskey dick right now. Need to lay off the booze so I can take care of you properly next time. Cmon, stand up sweetheart.”
Harry held his hand out to the girl who took it, standing on wobbly legs as he stepped in the shower with her, skin tight black boxers covering his goods which disappointed her a bit but she couldn’t care too much since there was so much else going on.
His big hands ran up and down her back, thumbs digging into the dimples right at the base of her spine as he pulled her closer to him, kissing down her neck, mumbling into her skin about how pretty she is, and promising he’s going to make her feel better.
“Pussy is all swollen doll, gotta be careful. Don’t want you to hurt yourself just ‘cause you get frustrated, that’s no fun…” His voice was deep, slow and made her stomach tense from how it vibrated through her getting a whimper and tug on his wet matted locks.
“Talk to me darling..tell me what you want, tell me what you need baby” his fingers were trailing downward, squeezing her ass and brushing his finger tips on the backs on her thighs. “need you to touch me, please put your fingers in me I need it”
Her voice was pathetic and she knew it, she was needy to the highest capacity and almost let a ‘daddy’ slip through her lips but she managed to bite her tongue just in time. Harry hummed as he brough his right hand around her front, moving it between her thighs and coaxing them open wider while he brushed two digits up and down her slit, mouthing at her neck while he gets a feel for her exterior, taking the vibrator from her hand and setting it down on the rack holding their shampoos and soaps while he tapped the pad of his middle finger against her entrance before sinking it in.
Her reaction was immediate. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, a long relieved moan falling from her plush lips as he slipped a second one in with ease from how eager her body was. “Got t’ give me a minute to find tha’ special spot love, deep breaths don’t need ya’ passing out on me.” Harry was on a mission to find that spongey spot inside her that would have her cumming in no time, and Y/n was practically riding his fingers as she stood in his grip, her body going rigid when he pressed against the spot she needed the most attention on, mumbling a low “found it” as he pressed on it again, rubbing over it as he fucked his fingers in and out of the younger girl who was holding onto him for dear life as he massaged her G-spot with vigor.
“There you go, that’s a good girl Y/n you’re doin’ so good love, know you’re close can cum whenever you feel it. Know you need it baby, let go.”
Y/n could barely hear him as her body started to tingle, everything was muffled and her mind was hyper focused on the pleasure pulsing through her core. She was gearing up for a strong one, she hasn’t had one quite this big since the winter when she had a 4 week dry spell and finally got some action the day after Christmas, she soaked through the poor dudes sheets that night.
Her moans and gasps picked up, frequent bursts of pleasured moans passed her lips as she started to pant her nails digging into his tattooed shoulders while her held her to him so she didn’t fall.
“Doing so well, almost there huh? Almost there…” his fingers moved with purpose and unfaltering speed as he massaged her special spot faster, her legs becoming jelly as she started to cum. She couldn’t help the loud moan that shot out of her throat, Harry quickly grabbing the wash cloth and stuffing it in her mouth since he knew Ryan was here. He cooed in the girls ear, talking to her the entire time she was cumming feeling her cunt squeezing his digits while her own juices dribbled down his wrist.
She was dizzy, tired, spent and completely drained. She finally got what she needed and was now dead weight clinging to Harry who peppered her face with kisses as he withdrew his hand from her cunt rinsing her off down there and kissing her lips a few times.
“That was fucking amazing… god Harry you’re gonna make me fall in love with you with fingers like those…”
He only chuckled at her dazed comment before shutting the water off, wrapping the girl in a towel and sitting her down on the counter
“Lucky for you, you have all summer to do so, I might just be up for it too.”
#harry styles angst#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fluff#harry styles au#harry styles series#harry styles smut#harry styles fanfic#harry styles concept#harry styles writing
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@aph-usa-is-my-dad Thank you, thank you! 🙇🏽♀️
Alright lads, looks like it’s time for hot takes part III!
Here’s Part 1//Here‘s Part 2
Apollo won’t get Zeus position. Why is everyone wishing for that? And why should he? All of you really want to romanticize/project yourself onto him, huh?
Casual Reyna >>> praetor Reyna
Grover has the fattest ass in the Riordanverse, I don’t make the rules
People lack of basic reading skills part III
The fact that adults in New Rome let kids rule the fucking place is still mindblowing
Rick apologists are lame. People calling out shit isn’t an attack on you. Stop defending a product‘s/public figure‘s honor. Defending Rick Riordan is the equivalent of you defending the honor of a snickers bar. Dude doesn’t know you and dude doesn’t give a fuck about you. You are a walking dollar bill at best
Romans are still fucking wacky and despite Camp Jupiter being superior allegedly it’s a whole damn chaotic mess. Where are the supposed civilized Romans because I don’t see them?
Camp Half-Blood >>>> Camp Jupiter, especially when Percy trains in his summer vacations and beats praetor Jason’s goddamn ass who’s been training for 12 years
Why did Riordan even try to make Jason appear to come close to Percy’s level? The imbalance of power is so abundantly clear and makes Jason seem even smaller in that regard. Riordan is truly Percy’s biggest hater
The fact that CHB also glamorizes child soldiers in a more fun and relaxed way. Yikes
Nico is a white™ (again, he is European)
Rachel was annoying but didn’t deserve the blatant hate.
Annabeth should’ve had another possible love interest to spark some pissed Percy. Luke doesn’t count. Percy’s jealously revolves around (the possibility of) her not being around him (e.g. the hunters), not him ”losing“ her to someone else romantically speaking
Silena is the OG Aphrodite kid, fuck the rest
Amazons >> hunters by a slight margin. They’re also an awful bunch
The execution of the hunters is so bad omg, just let me revamp them, Ricardo
If a different take on a headcanon/characters really offends you/paint that much of a different picture of op, then I’m not sorry (only exception if the headcanon is based on discriminatory means. Someone saying they don’t like A and someone using slurs and being a douche are two different things)
The entire Aphrodite cabin is pan FYI
Team demigods who receive periods would probably be extra fucked when it comes to monsters and stuff. Let’s address this
Why exactly couldn’t the gods handle their own shit? Hunting monsters in your area makes sense as a demigod job. But stuff like retrieving Hermes‘ staff (especially when the dude is the speedy traveler guy) makes no goddamn sense
Let’s face it: Annabeth is the only good female character that Riordan pulled off. Also wasn’t she based off his wife? If so, that’s why.
The lack of irl examples for his POC and other women is abundantly clear as he can’t lure everyone from his environment into the stories especially because he has no irl connection to minorities. So he fabricated stuff/did his 5 mins of wiki and got it severely wrong. Clock that tea!
Camp Half-Blood t-shirts belong to the trash. Orange is Yellow‘s cousin and both are ugly to the max. Let’s just switch colors of both camps. Let the Romans deal with the hideous shit
Chiron and Paul are Riordan‘s self-inserts
Tbh giving Hazel super mist powers and tying Frank to Poseidon was stupid
Skater!Percy is pretty much canon but I just can’t envision it? The thought of it is cute and so 2000s but my brain goes fjfldlsöwlwbvd (and tbh gymnast!/dancer!/Parcours!Percy >>>>> skater!basketball!Percy)
People are forgetting that Percy is the unpopular kid both in the mortal realm and at camp and partially chose to be so? Let me remind you of the truth real quick
Beckendorf and Silena are the horny bastards of the Camp Half-Blood. Issa fact
The gods not really immortalizing Chiron and simply saying that he’ll live as long as he’s needed turned him into the cryptic fuck we all know. That’s why he barely helps out (On that note a tiny Chiron essay)
A headcanon, regardless of how popular it is, isn’t factual/reality. So fighting over different takes of the exact same issue is rather pointless but you do you. Some popular blog having an opinion with a large following doesn’t automatically negate your sentiment
Piper being ”unconventional“ as in hating make-up and being dressed up is in itself more than fine but the execution was lacking and her coming off as pretentious and annoying was the result
Piper also has no taste in men if she thinks that amnesia brick boy Grace > Percy. Just no. Lesbians claim haaa
If I see another Amandla or Zendaya or another biracial/lightskinned face claim for Hazel I will lose it
Everyone and their mother having a crush on Percy fuels them Gary Stu feelings, just saying
The fact that Riordan casually drops the abuse that Percy has suffered from like some fucking tic tacs just to never be spoken about should be a reason enough to whoop his ass
Not maturing and darkening HOO (there were good thoughts but also many whacky executions) was the biggest mistake Riordan had made. He should’ve went the Rowling route and transitioned from kids books to YA
The whole fire stick thing that Riordan ripped off from Meleager and slapped onto Frank was terribly executed
A lot of you people should open up more to jokes and not take everything all too seriously
The fact that people seriously ship/ped Reyna x Apollo is proof enough that this fandom should burn
Why do Luke discussions at this point still exist? You’re essentially glossing over the same four things
Hyping up fanfics to the max is a terrible idea. Also don’t shy away from giving writers constructive criticism
Stoner headcanons are here to stay and slay!
On one hand seeing discussions from the science side of PJO talking about the biology, physics etc. is super interesting but on the other hand getting heated over the illogical basis of ”magic“ is pretty much a waste of time
Riordan‘s world building is truly awful
Frazel is a crime against humanity
If you don’t get someone‘s post actually look op up and read the tags? No need to spam the exact question to everything
Fat Frank stays. I get it, Greek gods are hot, they are conceited and choose to fuck people that they perceive as attractive, so their offspring also has some higher levels in the beauty realm. But why not explore the opposite? Why does every character need a makeover or a blessing that gives them enhanced looks?
Clarisse‘s thigh can break ya neck
Also Riordan is Annabeth’s biggest hater. Let’s throw all of her most important possessions away to proof that the smart one can survive without any of it. Sure, but the emotional attachment to the stuff still remains especially when everyone else is walking out of Annabeth’s life
Making Leo another horny bastard was an accurate portrayal of your casual 16 year old boy. Annoying, but realistic
#hoo#pjo hot takes#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson#annabeth chase#hazel levesque#frank zhang#piper mclean#nico di angelo#clarisse la rue#jason grace#leo valdez#heroes of olympus#charles beckendorf#silena beauregard#rick riordan#riordanverse#reyna ramirez arellano#toa
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Thief Pt. 3

Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Flowershop au
Rating: G
Warnings: Language, mentions of infidelity ig?
Summary: You’re a flowershop owner with a soft heart, so when a handsome stranger comes to steal your flowers on Sundays, you let him. You even help him, because it’s clearly important.
Besides, you wouldn’t miss a few daisies a week.
Chapter summary: The man comes back to pick up his dead flowers and later comes back to tell his story, there are cute developments in Hoseok’s relationship and Jimin comes by early.
Word Count: 3.9K
Part one | Part two | Part Three
A/N: hehe finally done. Sorry for the long wait, folks. You’re gonna hear more for me within the next month :) please lemme know what you thought. This one’s a bit longer than the others and I didn’t proofread so please bare with me.

The little bell above your door rang at exactly six minutes to five on a Friday afternoon, and the sound wasn’t nearly as cheerful as it usually was.
The man who was there the day before stepped into the shop with a huge raincloud over his head. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying on his way to the shop.
“Hi,” the man said and you felt bad for wanting to laugh when a certain Ross popped into your head.
“Hi, oh my god, are you okay?” you said and stepped out from behind the counter. The man just shook his head. “Can I hug you?”
The man nodded.
Without thinking too much about it, you leaned in and wrapped your arms around the man. He was taller than you, and wider, but he seemed so small for a second. The man just rested his head on your shoulder and let his arms hang by his sides.
“You’ll be okay,” you said with a determined voice. The man pulled away and smiled at you with watery eyes.
“I know.”
“Good,” you said and patted his shoulder before going behind the counter again. “Because I made you a killer bouquet. She won’t know what hit her.”
“Damn right she won’t. I’m leaving her with a freaking bang.”
“Yes,” you said and reached for the bouquet that was stashed under the countertop, “And she’ll regret it for the rest of her life.”
You had put a lot of thought into this bouquet. Every flower that symbolised love and affection was in there, only dead, wilting or ugly. You did, however, add a few blooming tansies in there. It ended up being strangely beautiful, all in all, with the bright yellow flowers standing out against the varying shades of brown.
“Wow,” the man marvelled.
“Yep.”
“What are those?” he asked, pointing to the tansies.
“Those,” you said with a sly smile, “are tansies. They symbolize hatred. There is no better way to tell someone that they make you sick than with tansies. I figured blooming tansies made sense.”
“Genius,” the man whispered with awe.
“Don’t mention it.”
The man stared for a beat and you let him take his time. “It’s rather pretty,” he said with a bitter – still teary – smile.
“Yeah.” You felt really bad for him. If his girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend then he was betrayed from both sides. How do you bitch about your cheating girlfriend to your best friend if your best friend did the cheating?
He took a deep breath and reached for his wallet, successfully snapping you out of your train of thought too.
“Is there anything else I can do for you? Calming tea? Another hug?” you asked and punched the amount for the flowers in to the register. The man huffed out a laugh.
“Do you have vodka?”
“I finished the last bottle last night while crying over The Green Mile, I’m afraid.” Seokjin let out another squeaky laugh.
“Then tea would do. The same one from yesterday, please.”
“Sure.” You finished the transaction and gave him a warm smile when you handed him back his change. “Here you go. And hey, come back any time for more tea or for a hug if you need it. Let me know how it went, yeah? And I really mean that.”
The man nodded and took his flowers from the counter. “Thank you,” he said, voice cracking slightly.
“No problem.”
“Seokjin,” he blurted suddenly, “is my name. I’m Seokjin.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Seokjin.”
“You too.”
The man gave you one last dashing – albeit somewhat teary – smile before he left.

You woke up earlier than you usually would on a Sunday morning. By the time the first rays of sunlight painted the world gold, you were already outside with a blanket around your shoulders and sweet tea on your lips to admire the scenery.
Naturally, that meant you were finished with your chores a lot earlier than you usually would be. By eleven, you were freshly showered and comfortably curled up with a book and fresh tea on the swing bench in your garden, waiting.
Jimin came earlier than usual today. A whole thirty minutes earlier. You watched him approach with a confused face. He was as handsome as ever, this time wearing slacks again, and looking as unsure as the first time.
He checked the time and his shoulders sagged before he looked around with a frown again. You got up off of the swing bench with a loud squeak of the chain, careful not to kick your mug, to check if he was okay. Jimin’s eyes snapped toward you in alarm before softening into a charming smile.
“Hi!” you exclaimed, waving. He jogged the last few metres to the fence with ease and a big smile.
“Hi,” he breathed back, meeting you at the fence.
“You’re early today,” you said cheerily. Jimin’s face fell a little.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. There was a problem with the bus lines today. There’s a construction site en route the one I usually take so I could choose between thirty minutes early and thirty minutes late,” Jimin explained, “And I chose early because I didn’t want to miss you today because I missed you last week and honestly I have no idea why I’m telling you this.”
You giggled at the way Jimin trailed off into berating himself before he stopped speaking. He averted his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s okay. I can keep you company for a while before your appointment. Or date. Or… yeah. If you want.”
“Uh, yeah. Can – is that allowed?” he asked, caught off guard, eyes big. You laughed and looked at him with drawn eyebrows.
“Why wouldn’t it be ‘allowed’? Who would forbid it?”
Jimin covered his eyes, cheeks coloured pink in embarrassment, but there was a smile on his face. “I don’t know! I’m just unsure about whatever deal we have here. I just wanted to know if it’s really okay. Sorry it came out so weird.”
“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Come in, if you want to.”
You opened the little gate in the garden fence and Jimin tentatively stepped inside of the little world that you had created for yourself. He looked around with big eyes and an awed expression. His lips formed a little “o” and you couldn’t help but admire how beautiful his mouth was.
“Can I walk on the grass?” he asked and you nodded with a smile. It felt like your cheek muscles were constantly at work around him. Where Hoseok was bubbling happiness and puppy-like excitement, Jimin inspired a quiet happiness. A subtle warmth.
Dangerous. You didn’t know anything about him and the chances were high that he already had someone.
“I have a swing bench out here where we can sit. It squeaks a little, though. If that bothers you we can sit inside too. Or on the grass, wherever you want.”
“The swing bench sounds fine, I don’t mind. Your garden is beautiful,” Jimin said, voice soft. He made himself comfortable and you did the same on the other end of the bench, picking up your lukewarm tea off the ground. The chains squealed in protest and you made a mental note (which would probably be misplaced in your chaotic mind) to oil it.
“Thank you,” you said and looked around proudly. You built this. These flowers loved you enough to bloom like they do because you cared for them. “It’s my little paradise.”
“It really is like paradise. Makes me think that the Bible story didn’t happen like they said it did.”
“Huh,” you tilted your head to the side, “and how did you think it happened then?”
“Uh,” Jimin said and ran his hand through his hair, “After Adam and Eve ate the apple, God threw them out and gave the garden to a beautiful fairy to look after while he tried to sort them out.”
You threw your head back and laughed, making the bench swing a bit more. Jimin looked down, shy. That’s the second time he called you a fairy.
“You’re such a flirt, you know? You should come work in my shop for a week. I’d make a fortune.”
“How so?”
“Are you kidding me? With you saying things like that to strangers, people will flock to my shop paying you to take their flowers.”
Jimin giggled shyly, hiding his mouth behind his hand. You felt so endeared at watching him giggle. “You’re not a stranger anymore, though,” Jimin whispered.
“I guess you’re right.”
“And you’ve said nicer things to me than I’ve said to you,” he said, smile suddenly sly. You cocked your head in question. “A certain comment about ‘pretty thighs’ still sticks out to me.”
Embarrassment flooded your body like someone had poured hot honey into your veins. You covered your face with your hands and shook your head vigorously. You couldn’t believe that he remembered that. Not to mention that he would actually say it.
He was an exhilarating mix of shy and forward and it messed you up.
“No,” you simply replied, voice muffled by your hands.
“What do you mean ‘no’?” Jimin laughed.
“I mean I will not be embarrassed in my own home. You have no right. Off with your head.”
Jimin laughed again and then a silence settled over your little garden. He leaned his head back on the lean of the bench and stared at the countless flowers with glittery eyes. He chewed his lip absentmindedly, angled his head this way and that as he observed.
The sun filtered through the colourful flower petals and made the already colourful garden glow even more vibrantly, like someone put a filter over reality. Somewhere a prism caused a little rainbow to glow on Jimin’s cheek.
You couldn’t help but be enamoured by him. He was simply beautiful with his little contradictions; angular features and soft lips, silky hair and sharp eyes. Those eyes. They were a contradiction themselves. Sharp, focused, analytic – and yet so, so soft. So full of soul – sunlight and shadows and rich soil.
So much potential for a blooming garden. Perhaps there already was one, hiding. Perhaps there were only thorn bushes and weeds.
“Your eyes are breath-taking,” you blurted and god damn it you really needed to stop accidentally complimenting him, what was wrong with you?
Jimin cast his eyes to you and a shy but pleased smile spread on his face. Not horrified, not surprised, not angry or scared off. You swallowed down your embarrassment for the umpteenth time around him and smiled back, blood still running cold in your veins.
“Thanks,” he said, voice turned to velvet, “so are you.”
“My – my eyes?” you stuttered out, caught off guard and so, so flattered.
“The whole you,” Jimin said smoothly, shy smile turned a little roguish, a little brave.
The grin that spread on your face was uncalled for and unauthorised. “Thank you.”
You sipped from your mug, tea now cold, while Jimin eyed two small songbirds dancing around each other in your lemon tree. A silence hovered while you listened to the birds sing, not uncomfortable but not entirely free of tension either.
After a few minutes like this, you became restless and put down your mug. You left the swing bench with protesting chains and grabbed the garden shears from the worktable a few feet away.
“What are you doing?” Jimin asked.
“Making your bouquet.”
“Wha – you don’t – I can –” Jimin struggled off of the bench, nearly tripping over his feet kicking over your now empty mug. He cursed, picked it up and sighed in relief when it was still whole. You looked away and suppressed the amused grin that threatened the corners of your mouth. You pretended not to have noticed.
“Don’t worry about it. I like arranging flowers for you.”
“I, uh – okay. Thank you.”
“Do you see any other flowers around here that you like? Or do you just want the daisies?”
“Are you sure that’s okay?” he checked again and you nodded. “What were those little blue ones you put in last time?”
“Forget-me-nots? These ones?” you pointed to the tiny blooms and he nodded.
“Yeah, those. They’re very pretty.”
“They are. They’re one of my favourites too,” you admitted while cutting them. “Forget-me-nots are meaningful little flowers too. You can put them into almost any bouquet and they’ll adapt to the meaning.”
Jimin sat back down on the bench and watched as you went about making his little bouquet. “What do they mean?”
“Like I said, lots of things. Remembrance, like the name suggests, through parting or death. They’re symbols of favourite memories. They symbolise loyalty through challenges, undying love or even a growing affection.”
“Wow. They really are meaningful little shits.”
“Yeah,” you giggled, “they are.”
“How do you even know all of this?” Jimin asked. You looked up from what you were doing and nearly had the breath knocked out of you. He sat with one leg crossed over the other and looked like damn royalty with the Ena Harkness roses climbing up the wall behind him. His pants strained over his legs, those goddamn dancer thighs, and those sharp, focused eyes were fixed on you.
You longed to know what was going on in his head.
“My – my, um.” You closed your eyes and shook your head to clear it. Oh, how you longed for him to look at you liked he looked at your garden. You shook your head again, only to find Jimin looking at you with an amused grin. “My granddad had a garden when he was still alive,” you finally got out, “It was normal sized but god, mine doesn’t even come close to what he had. He somehow managed to freaking grow edelweiss, it was incredible. I loved it there. I loved spending time with him in his garden, and he taught me all about the plants their meanings. He even knew their Latin names by heart. I still struggle with those, though.”
“Wow that sounds incredible. He sounds like he was a cool guy.”
“He was. He was the only grandparent that I had, the others had all died before I was born.” You swallowed down the memories and spoke again before Jimin could say something, “Do you see any other flowers that you like?
“All of them,” Jimin said with a smile and looked raked his eyes over the blooming garden again, “but I need to get going soon, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“You’re always welcome, Jimin. I enjoy your company.” You handed him the bouquet, now tied with string and with a few greens sneaked in. When he took it from you and his fingers brushed yours, you couldn’t help but think how cliché it was that you noticed how soft his hands were.
“I enjoy yours too,” he whispered, then stuffed his nose into the flowers, breathing deep.
“They don’t smell that good,” you said with laughter lining your words.
“Yeah,” Jimin said, coming up for fresh air, “they don’t. They just smell like… plants.” You laughed for real this time.
“I’ll make you one that smells like honey next time.”
“Wha – no, no you don’t – you don’t have to, that’s not –” Jimin started, sounding slightly panicked.
“I want to,” you cut him off. He stopped talking, ran a hand through his hair shyly and nodded.
“Thank you.”
“You’ve thanked me enough for one day, I think,” you giggled.
“My half hour is almost up…” Jimin said after a moment of silence.
“Wait, before you go, hold on.”
You disappeared through the door of a little greenhouse attached to your home. The smell of tea was almost overpowering when you opened the next door to the backroom of your little shop.
You grabbed one of the little sample teabags – lemon-mint – and rushed back outside through the greenhouse.
“Here!” you said, waving the bag at Jimin who was already at the gate, ready to leave. He stared with round eyes. “Tea. I make my own tea,” you clarified.
“Oh, no, first the flowers, I can’t accept –”
“I hand these out for free anyway. Try it, and if you like it then you know where to find me. This one’s rather good when you let it cool down, though. Like, as an iced tea,” you babbled. He took the tea from you with another grateful smile. “Don’t say ‘thank you’ again.”
Jimin laughed and said, “I express my gratitude to thee.”
You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Thin ice.”
“Seriously, though. Thank you. I can’t help but wonder why you’re so nice to me when I stole from you.”
“I don’t know. It’s obvious that the flowers are for something important. And you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I won’t pry, but these flowers make someone happy. That’s the reason they’re there. Besides, I like you, you’re nice.”
Jimin had a bashful little smile on his face by the time you were done. He pushed his hair back from his forehead and said, “So are you. You deserve the happiness in you inspire, little fairy.”
By the time the star struck feeling of his words wore off, Jimin was already walking away.

You were almost too invested in conversation with Seokjin to hear the bell above the door ring on a Tuesday afternoon, and definitely too invested to react.
“Are you kidding me?! He was half naked on her couch when she knew she had a date with you?”
“I swear to god. She said that ‘it’s not what it looks like’ and that she ‘forgot that I was coming.’ And then Wooseok just awkwardly slunk out of the house and sort of like, slapped my shoulder in a sort of bro way, yaknow? Like, ‘hi, best friend whose girl I just fucked, good luck with this situation that I helped create.’ Then he left. She started having a breakdown that I shouldn’t leave her. I just smiled at her and said, ‘hey, don’t worry, I know.’ And she went all ignorant, like ‘what do you mean?’” Seokjin rapidly went on, talking like a waterfall in raining season.
“How optimistic of her to think feigning ignorance would still work when you literally just caught them and she literally just had a breakdown.” you shook you head and filled up your glass with the ice tea you’d wordlessly provided when he started talking after buying another pack of tea.
“What freaking tea party did I just walk into?” Hoseok’s voice rang through the shop and – oh. The bell above the door had rung. Seokjin jumped and let out a little yelping noise.
“Seokie, hi! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. This is Seokjin. He’s telling me the story of how he broke up with his cheating girlfriend. In how much of a hurry are you?”
“None at all. I’m sorry to hear that, man.” He ran put his hand on Seokjin’s shoulder in sympathy.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m Hoseok, by the way. Mind if I eavesdrop while looking around?” Hoseok said with a charming smile and Seokjin chuckled and shook his head.
“Not at all.”
“Okay, okay, enough chit chat, tell me more,” you interrupted, bouncing on your toes to draw attention back to you.
“Right,” Soekjin said and sipped his iced tea before continuing his story. “Where was I? Right, so she was like ‘what do you know?’ and I didn’t answer at first, I just handed her the flowers and I smiled at her, yaknow? After actually seeing them together, I was just so angry that it didn’t even hurt anymore. So I gave her the flowers and she looked so confused and so dumb with her smeared lipstick. And she was like ‘I don’t understand, they’re dead.’ Like yeah, no shit Sherlock.”
“Wait,” Hoseok interrupted from behind another shelf of flowers, “You gave your girlfriend dead flowers to break up with her after you found out she was cheating?”
“Yep.”
“Holy shit that’s such a respectable level of petty.”
“Thank you, I do my best,” Seokjin took another sip of his ice tea and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Anyway, so I told her that they’re dead like my love for her and that I’m breaking up with her. And then, like the dumbass she is, she was all like ‘no wait! These yellow ones are still alive! That’s got to mean something’ and I looked her dead in the eyes and said ‘those are tansies and they mean fuck you.’ And then I left her house.”
The sound that broke out of you could barely pass for a laugh. You cackled like a witch and you barely registered Hoseok dying on the other side of the shop too.
“Oh my god, that’s genius,” you wheezed. Seokjin seemed to thrive under the laughter caused by him, proudly downing the rest of his tea.
It took a moment for both you and Hoseok to catch your breaths. When you did, Seokjin put his glass down and said, “I have to go, though. Thank you for everything, Y/n.”
“No problem, Seokjinnie. Don’t be a stranger, yeah?”
“Hold on,” Hoseok said, jogging up to Seokjin with a blue and purple bouquet in one hand while digging his phone out of his pocket with the other. “Give me your number. A friend of mine is throwing a housewarming party next weekend, if you’re keen. He said I could bring as many people as I want, which was a mistake on his part honestly.”
Seokjin typed his number into Hoseok’s phone and handed it back with a smile. “Send me the details. It sounds fun.”
With a final wave, Seokjin walked out of the shop.
“Remember what I said about customers coming back because of you rather than flowers? That looks like such a situation,” Hoseok said with a roguish grin.
“Oh, hush. Give me the flowers so I can get you to leave.”
“Ouch, are you always this mean with customers?”
“Just the ones who want to set me up with other customers.” You rang up his flowers and despite yourself, there was a fond smile on your face, your imagination conjuring a cute picture of Hoseok standing in someone’s doorway with a bright smile and a hand full of warm flowers.
He seemed so happy, and that made you happy. Perhaps Hoseok had really gone from customer to friend.
“Anything else?” you asked.
“Can I place an order for next week?”
“Of course you can.”
“You know flower meanings well, right?” Hoseok asked, suddenly seeming nervous.
“Yes. It’s part of the job description,” you said with a soft giggle.
“For Thursday, can you put together a bouquet that signifies love but also, like – something that says I’ll be careful with you. I’ll take care of you. Do you know what I mean?”
Hoseok’s face was always open and honest. When he was angry or unhappy, it was clear as day. When he was happy – which was more common – the whole world could feel it. Right now, there was nothing but love. Clear fondness and love.
You thought quietly that whoever was on the receiving end of that love was the luckiest person alive. It brought a smile to your face.
Seeing your friend like this made you happy.
“I have a few ideas already,” you said, “I’ll have them ready for you on Thursday, pick them up whenever you need them.”
“Thank you, Y/n. I mean it, you’re the absolute best.”
“Don’t mention it.”

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