#drunken piss is in there somewhere lol

[nadvs]

better off (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary your split with rafe left its mark. when you feel like you’re finally getting over him, he pulls you back in. you decide that break-up sex is the best way to say goodbye once and for all.

warnings substance use, smut, toxic relationship

» masterlist

You have to remind yourself of his temper. Of his need for control. Of how fucking mean he can be.

Because when you’re at a party in a beach house on the north side of the island and your phone flashes with a text from Rafe, your drunken instinct is to reply to him.

It’s been a month since your last explosive fight. That argument in his car was the final nail in the coffin, the wake-up call that whatever you were trying to put back together was unsalvageable.

It ended abruptly. Your mind has replayed your last screamed words over and over again. This isn’t working, you shouted, your throat burning. Fuck it then, he shouted louder.

And you got out of his car and haven’t spoken since.

Despite its end, it’s not like your six-month relationship was all bad. Between great dates and even greater sex, you two had formed a real friendship. Because of those good times, you’ve been holed up in your bedroom since, grieving, crying your eyes out.

But when it was bad, it was toxic. You yelled at each other. Called each other names. Played mind games.

The worst was that you were both fuelled by spite when you were angry. He purposely hit you where it hurt, validating your insecurities just to crush you.

Although you exchanged some vile words, you think you’ll always regret when you told him he’s just like his father. His face fell. He went quiet. You’d never seen someone’s eyes lose their light quite like that.

Your eyes travel over Rafe’s text. You at Dec’s?

Your mutual friend Declan is the host of the ridiculously loud party you’re standing in the middle of. This is the first time since the break-up that you’ve felt okay enough to go out. And your stomach turns with anticipation that Rafe is somewhere here in the crowd.

At first, you wanted to text back that you are. But as your mind flashes through everything he did to you, every time he called you sensitive like it was ridiculous of you to be hurt by his mistreatment, making you feel crazy, you angrily respond: why tf do you care??

Your phone buzzes within a few seconds with his message. Lol calm down

It’s downright incredible how quickly he can piss you off. With that text alone, your blood is boiling.

Calm down. It’s what he always said whenever you brought up a valid reason you were upset. You would be completely collected, but he’d still tell you to calm down. He wanted to frustrate you.

You reply: fuck you. And you want to find him simply to chew him out.

You tell your friends you’ll be right back. You leave before they can ask where you’re going. After all the venting you did about Rafe, about what a toxic asshole he is, you know they’d give you shit for seeking him out.

Rafe’s heart is racing. From the coke, from the booze, from the way that missing you is still such a heavy fucking weight on his chest that isn’t going away.

It’s been weeks and he’s still pissed off about it. Life feels unliveable. When the argument started, he thought it was just going to be another bad night. You had threatened breaking up with each other a million times before. But this time, it was real.

And every time his phone vibrates, he hopes it’s you. He looks at your photos in his camera roll, wallowing in the hole you left in his life. He still has videos of you two fucking and he watches them late at night, touching himself and letting himself pretend you’re still together.

He even puts extra care into getting ready every time he comes to these parties so you’ll think he looks good if you run into him. But you haven’t been going out. At least, not that he’s seen, and he purposely searches every crowd for you.

So, when he saw you in the distance tonight, a sight he’s been dying to see, his heart stopped. And he texted you, pretending he didn’t already know you were here, because it’d be too much of a hit to his pride if he approached you and you brushed him off.

Good thing. Because your response told him what he needs to know.

When you find Rafe in the crowd, he’s knocking back what’s left of a beer. He had told you he was hoping to slow down on the booze back when you were together, but he continued to get shit-faced at every party.

He would disappoint you time and time again, and even now, as your ex-boyfriend, he still manages to do it.

You cross your arms as you approach him. One of his friends notices you, slapping Rafe’s arm to get his attention.

At that moment, you wonder what he told his buddies about you. Probably that you were a crazy bitch. He certainly didn’t have any problem calling you that to your face.

Rafe looks at his friend in confusion. Then, his blue eyes land on you. The same eyes that used to slowly flutter open after you kissed him, as if he was waking up from a good dream. The same eyes that pierced into you when he screamed at you.

“So much for cutting back,” you shout over the music.

Rafe swallows the bitter alcohol and the shock of your sudden presence. He was certain you wouldn’t talk to him tonight.

And of course you look stunning, like an angel that came down from heaven deciding it was worth the sin to torture him.

“Why the fuck do you care?” He’s wearing a self-assured smirk, purposely saying exactly what you said in your text just a few minutes ago.

You roll your eyes, remembering why you came over here in the first place.

“Can I not come to a party without you annoying me?” you mutter.

“You’re the one who came to find me.”

“Because you texted me.”

“So, you’re here to tell me not to text you? What happened to blocking me?”

This is exactly what it was like dating him. Infuriating, petty arguments that only go in circles.

“You didn’t this time, huh?” he adds just to embarrass you.

You had him blocked so many times before, but after the break-up, you just couldn’t do it. Because you had hope he’d reach out. And now he’s making you feel like an idiot for it.

It feels like he’s winning this argument. You shouldn’t care. But you do.

One of the things he said the night of your break-up was that no other guy would deal with your bullshit. So, you decide to lie just to hurt him back.

“I have someone else dealing with my bullshit now,” you say. “Blocking some asshole isn’t a priority.”

Your words have an effect on him. You can tell from the way his jaw tightens. You sink into this feeling all over again, the sick familiarity of playing mind games with him.

Rafe feels his chest twist with anger. Is that where you’ve been lately? Not showing up to parties because you’re with someone else?

He steps closer, ducking his head so that only you can hear his words. His familiar cologne washes over you.

You realize he’s wearing a button-up you bought him and you wonder if he doesn’t remember it was a gift from you, or he does and he doesn’t care to place any sort of sentimental value on it.

“Since when?” he asks.

“Since when what, Rafe?” you say his name with a sharp coldness.

“Since when have you been with someone else?”

You decide to provoke him and let the lie build.

“A while.”

Rafe’s lips thin. He takes your hand and you should pull away, you should want to, but you let him lead you through the crowd into a dark, quieter hallway.

You’re soon against a wall, looking up at him, his eyes darting across your face as the softened music reverberates through the air.

“What’s a while?” he says. “Did it start when we were together?”

You sigh and glance away.

“Don’t look away from me,” he orders. “Answer the fucking question.”

“For the millionth goddamn time, I am not a cheater,” you say. He used to accuse you of unfaithfulness all the time. You meet his angry gaze. “I met him after.”

“Who is he?”

“You don’t know him.”

Rafe plants his hand on the wall next to your head, leaning over, his intensity burning through you.

“I know everybody,” he mutters.

“What, ‘cause you’re so popular?” you scoff.

“You’re lying,” he says. He hopes.

“Sure, whatever, I’m lying,” you reply indifferently with a shrug. “Believe what you want. I’m going now.”

You start to turn, but he boxes you in, his other hand firm on the wall. You knew he’d stop you. It’s why you pretended to leave.

You look up at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown. Your entire body is buzzing.

You miss him. Of course you do. As toxic as you were, as many times as you told yourself this relationship was unhealthy, you miss him.

“Who is he?” he rasps.

“Why?” you say through gritted teeth. “You want to ruin another thing for me?”

“What the fuck have I ruined for you?”

“I lost friends because of you,” you say.

A smile of disbelief grows on Rafe’s face.

He always loved you more. He knows that. And you accused him of isolating you from your friends when all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

It’s not his fault you don’t know how a relationship works. You should want to be with your boyfriend more than your friends. Especially when those friends try to get it in your head that your boyfriend doesn’t deserve you. That you’re too good for him.

What guy wouldn’t want his girl to stop hanging out with friends who just shit-talk him?

“Those weren’t friends,” he says. “What kind of friends want to fuck up your relationship?”

“It was already fucked up,” you respond. “They just helped me see it. But I still cut them off. For you. For nothing.”

Rafe blinks a few times before parting his lips to speak again. Nothing. That’s what he is to you?

His chest aches. He wants to return the favor. He wants to hurt you back.

“You’re so fucking weak,” he says, tapping your temple. You slap him away. “You’ll believe anything.”

It’s a slam to your heart.

“There’s something wrong with you,” you say. “Anyone who can tolerate you for as long as I did is the farthest thing from weak.”

You managed to hit him back just as hard. The way he pauses is a clear sign of it.

“That’s all it was, huh? Tolerating me?” he mutters.

You nod, your breath unsteady.

“Was it tolerating me when I bought you every single fucking thing you wanted?”

“I never asked you to do any of that,” you counter. Your voice has lost its edge. The reminder of how he used to spoil you with gifts and spa days and getaways has cracked your armor a little bit.

“You loved it, though, didn’t you?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “And you loved thanking me for it.”

Your skin pricks with the reminder. The way your lips pressed against his, limbs tangled together in his bed, kissing and fucking and breathing out dirty praise.

He’s thinking of it, too. You can tell because when he brushes up against you, he’s hard. It makes your body go even hotter.

Rafe’s been wondering what you did with all the gifts he got you. His eyes sweep over your body, half-hoping he’ll see a piece of jewelry he bought. But he comes up empty.

He fucking loved it, the way your eyes lit up whenever he got you a gift for no reason. But right now, your eyes are full of hatred.

You still haven’t said anything. Your chest is rising and falling quickly. He struck a chord and he’s going to keep pulling the string.

“Gave you that princess treatment shit, didn’t I?” he murmurs.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You said that whenever he bought you anything or did something sweet. It had become a joke between you two. It’s almost unbelievable that the man towering over you right now is capable of doing anything sweet.

“What, you can’t talk now?” Rafe taunts in his typical frustrating way.

“I hate you,” you mutter.

“Yeah?” he laughs. “You said the opposite the last time I saw you.”

You tense up. It’s true. Albeit angrily, you had said you loved him after he accused you of not giving a shit about him during your last argument.

He didn’t say it back. He hardly ever did. He used his body and his credit card to show you his love. It was always a dark cloud that hung over you, the way he couldn’t just say those three words nearly as much as you did.

Even now, he can’t even say the word. He said the opposite. Because he’s so damn emotionally stunted.

You try to regain whatever power you have left.

“Things change,” you respond. “And I’m better off now.”

Rafe leans closer, eyebrows just slightly raising as he stares at you.

His heart is pounding. His legs are weak. He’s panicked that you’ll reject him, but he can’t control the pull you have on him. The fact that you’re walking around and existing and not being with him is agony.

He feigns confidence, his nose gently nudging against yours, his lips less than an inch away now.

“Can he fuck you as good as I can?” he asks. Your core aches with a hard craving for him.

“I just said I’m better off, didn’t I?” you reply.

Rafe’s stomach curls in pain. The thought of another man tasting you, hearing you moan, being inside of you… It actually fucking hurts. You’re his. You’re not supposed to be anybody else’s.

“You need a reminder,” he says tersely, “of how good I make you feel.”

Your breath catches. You’d be stupid to do this. You just bring out the worst in each other. Having sex will undo all the healing you’ve done.

But, because of this sick effect he has on you, you listen to the voice telling you that one last time will be a proper goodbye.

“You’re wasted,” you say. You already felt his hard-on brush against you, but challenging him is too addictive not to do it. “You sure you can even get it up?”

Instead of being pissed off, Rafe does the most attractive thing he possibly can. And it’s infuriating. He smirks, grinding up against you, his hard lust pressed right between your legs.

“When have I ever had a problem with that?” he murmurs.

And finally, finally, he leans forward, pressing his warm lips on yours, and tasting him is like coming home after a trip you never wanted to go on.

You sink into his touch, letting yourself enjoy this temporary high, letting yourself give into the impulse to drag your hands up his hard torso, palms running over the expensive fabric you bought for him.

You tightly cup the sides of his neck. He pushes you by your waist, up against the wall so hard that your back tinges in pain.

This is what this will be. A hard, angry, rough goodbye. One last struggle for power.

You push him off, your lips parting with a smack.

“Find a room,” you order him.

His grip on your wrist is tight as he takes you to a guest room near the back of the house. He shuts the door and pushes you down onto the bed, chest heaving as he looks at you on your back, propped up on your elbows, watching him as he undoes his belt.

You gaze up at him as he breathes heavily, unzipping his pants and letting the buckle fall to the floor with a thud. He palms himself over his boxers, shaking his head at you.

“You can’t take your own damn clothes off?” he mutters.

The fire in you blazes hotter when he leans over you, pulling the button of your jeans out of the loop, zipping down, roughly tugging the waistband down your legs.

Part of the reason you waited for him to do it is because you’re so struck by the way he looks, angry and horny and handsome. But mostly, it’s because if he undresses you, it’s proof of how badly he wants this, how badly he wants you, and you miss that feeling.

Rafe is light-headed simply at the sight of your bare thighs. How can you make him feel like this and not be in his life anymore, just like that?

Once your pants are off, you tug him down to you by his hips, using all your strength to pull yourself up over him.

Rafe could easily withstand you, but he doesn’t want to. This was the best part of your relationship. The battle for control. It’s always been intoxicating.

He’s on his back while you’re propped up on your knees, straddling him, looking down at him, at the way your fingers look splayed on his chest.

He dreamed about seeing you on top of him again. His ex-girlfriend, the only person who’s just as fucked up as he is, the only one who challenges him in such an infuriatingly perfect way. Now, you’re just another person who’s given up on him.

“I know you missed this,” he says with a craven refusal to admit that he missed it himself.

“Feels like you missed it more.” You grind against him, but your middle is hot and wet, and you’re sure he can feel it.

You tug at his shirt, undoing buttons but eventually getting impatient enough to rip apart the last two that remain.

Rafe expels a pissed off tsk. This is his favorite thing you gave him. It’s typical, your recklessness, your refusal to care about the consequences he’s left to live with.

Some of his anger dissipates when you bend to kiss him, your tongue running over his. He grips your ass, fingers dipping under your panties as your kisses grow in roughness, starting to nip at each other’s lips, rushed and hungry.

You pull at the sleeves of his shirt, tugging so he’s left in his boxers only. He pushes your shirt up as you remain bent over him, squeezing your tits over your bra. You hate to give him the satisfaction of your moan, so you keep it in, scrambling to take your shirt off.

His fingers move expertly as he unhooks your bra just like he always did before. You hate that your mind jumps to wondering if he’s taken off any other girl’s clothing lately.

You lied about having a new boyfriend. You know he’s not above lying, either. You wouldn’t dare ask if he’s done this since your break-up. Because it’ll show you care. And because his answer, lie or not, could destroy you.

Your bra is thrown onto the floor and rough hands dip to the backs of your thighs, pushing you so that your chest is right over his face, giving him a chance to put his mouth on you as you hover over him on your hands and knees.

His tongue is hot over your nipple and this time, you can’t stifle your moan. He smirks against you, locking his lips around the peak of your breast, kneading the other, just hard enough to hurt in a good way.

You’re so mad at him for ruining things between you. It’s unfair that someone who knows your body and soul so well is so fucking cruel.

You want to drown your anger in him, in the pleasure you know he can give you. You sit up to take off your panties and shift higher this time so that your knees are pressed against his ears.

You lower and the second you feel his mouth between your legs, you shudder. It’s even better than you remembered.

Rafe looks up at the perfect sight of you sitting over him, eating you out with fast, desperate licks and sucks, tasting you, savoring you.

Your thighs start to lose their strength and you sink slightly, putting more of your weight on his chin, and the groan that escapes from his mouth onto your clit makes you lose all composure.

His hands keep your thighs pinned so you follow his lead, fully sitting on him now, grinding against his mouth. Your fingers lace in his hair, pulling at the roots, every writhe of yours getting harder.

This is a fucking dream come true to him. You’ve done this before, but you’ve never been this rough. You were always afraid to hurt him even during angry sex. This is different.

You roll your hips and the sensation of his nose bumping against your clit sends sparks of pleasure throughout your body. You’re soaked from your own arousal and his spit, sliding over his mouth.

It’s impossible to hold back your moans now. You let the groans of how good you feel spill out of your throat, mixed with the sounds of his mouth on you and the music blasting from the front of the house.

Rafe’s fingers dig into your thighs, his tongue flattened for you so you can get the pleasure you need. You look down, meeting his eyes while you ride his face, the tension and lust and frustration you share thick in the air.

You slow down, arching your back so he’ll work your clit how you want him to. You don’t even need to tell him. He knows you so damn well, his lips locking around the most sensitive part of your body, sucking and slurping so hard that you start to tremble.

“Just like that,” you whimper. His jaw was starting to get sore, but your praise spurs him to keep going. You adjust your grip on his hair, throwing your head back as his suction grows even harder.

Your thighs press against his cheeks as you start to dissolve into your orgasm. Rafe’s not letting that happen. You’re not getting yours until he gets his.

He pushes your hips up and a frustrated whine tumbles from your mouth. He’s so hard it hurts, roughly guiding you onto your back, the mattress bouncing with how hard he throws you down.

Rafe stares at you with hard eyes as he pulls off his boxers, his cock springing out, holding himself at his base as he guides himself against your entrance.

His exhale is short and sharp as he plunges into you. It feels so damn right to have him inside you, on top of you. The way he sounds, the way he smells. It’s just right.

“You like that?” he mutters, thrusting hard with no build-up to his fast pace.

“Yeah,” you whisper. He revels in the feeling of your heat wrapped around him. Inside you is his favorite place to be. That’s never changed.

“Where’s that attitude now, huh?”

“I don’t have an attitude,” you argue breathily, your body jolting with his thrashes.

“Not when I’m eating you out,” he says. “Not when I’m fucking you.”

“I don’t have an attitude,” you repeat.

He grips your jaw aggressively, fucking you in a frenzy, fingers squeezing your cheeks so hard that your lips jut out into a pout.

“Yes, you fucking do,” Rafe says, panting. “You think you’re so fucking perfect, don’t you?”

“I’m better than you,” you reply.

“You’re insufferable,” he murmurs. “Fucking insufferable.”

The pressure of him thrusting into you, the way he’s holding you and breathing and groaning, pushes you into a mind-blowing orgasm, your entire body tensing.

You’re in a daze, knowing he’s close by the way his movements are starting to grow sloppier.

“Then why were you with me?” The words are out of your mouth before you can even think about if you should say them.

Rafe’s wet mouth is on yours, tasting like himself and like you, a combination of two people who never should have met. You’re sure that you’d both be better off.

He comes hard, going still on top of you, groaning against your lips. Once he pulls back, his breaths hot on your neck, he finally answers, echoing what you’ve said to him so many times. But this time, you’re the victim of the insult.

“Because there’s something wrong with me,” he says.

Your throat thickens with tears. It’s the truth. And the truth is painful.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you mutter, pushing him off. You promise yourself that tonight is the last time that you’ll ever feel him on top of you, feel him pulling out of you.

You can’t get your clothes on fast enough. Even though this is an old flame, it has the same amount of power to scald you.

“Thought you weren’t a cheater,” he grumbles behind you as you slide on your panties.

“This was a mistake,” you say. “And it’s the last time I’m making it.”

Your words sting. He thought this was make-up sex. That you had a little bit more fight in you for him, and then you’d walk out of this room on his arm. But you really are done.

You pull on your bra next, fingers trembling, knowing you’ll regret it if he hears you cry. You put your shirt on as he remains lying behind you, surely relaxed now that he got what he wanted.

You stand to pull up your jeans, finally meeting his eyes again.

“Why did you even text me?” you mutter. You loathe that a tiny part of you hopes he says it’s because he misses you.

But you’re glad he doesn’t. Because you two just start each other’s fires and douse them in gasoline, burning each other over and over. He simply says, “I wanted to fuck and I knew you’d let me.”

Rafe said it just to hurt you because you called this a mistake. The way you look down as you pretend to focus on buttoning your jeans tells him it worked.

“Don’t text me again,” you say. “Don’t call me. Don’t contact me at all.”

“You scared your new boyfriend’s gonna see?” he says, pretending to be unaffected, pushing past the hurt.

You cross the room and look at him one last time as you turn the door handle. You decide to say the most honest thing you’ve said to him tonight.

“I’m scared I’ll fall for your bullshit again,” you admit. “We’re bad for each other. If there’s any part of you that has a heart, you’ll realize that and you’ll leave me alone.”

For once, Rafe is rendered speechless. He gave you his whole damn heart and for you to insinuate he might not even have one is the last dig he needs to shatter him.

Just like the night this ended in his car, you leave. But you mean it this time.

Because something that was actually meant to be would not hurt this much.

(part two)

inspired by this ask and this ask by @diorjadore

[not-goldy]

"Are Jikook even real?" LOL at least you tried.

There are two people from a TV show I watch. Both had partners they were with when the show first started. Somewhere along the way, those two coworkers/Costars started hanging out alone on private time, dressing alike & making regular trips to Disneyland together. Then more trips & outings together wearing matching clothes. Suddenly they stopped talking about their partners & then came TWO break-up confirmations. Shocker. They're partners left & those two are still glued together, dressing a like, taking regular trips to Disneyland & now posting coupley pics together on IG wearing matching outfits at Disneyland etc. No confirmation from either that they're dating, but none is needed because its literal proof of having no respect for your partners regardless & NO ONE is gonna stick around & watch their partner humiliate them like that publicly, no matter how long you been together. What they're doing is NOT part of their job description. They were even accused of doing fanservice since their characters are dating on the show, til they had break ups with their Longterm partners. Who the hell wants to sit at home while your partner is dressing up in matching couple clothes & keeps going on alone trips together with their coworker, without you or other friends? We aren't talking normal coworker friend outings with friends. We're talking crossing boundaries leaning into intimacy with someone who isn't your partner.

This isn't me using this as proof Jikook are real, but I am saying that Jikook's behavior no matter who they're dating, would be considered shitty, hurtful, embarrassing and inexcusable, because who the hell spends couple holidays together several times in public & not with their own partners, dating or not? When have you seen Yoonmin, Vmin or TK spend couple days together in public or confirm hickeys after a drunken night together or Lay in bed half naked flirting with each other in front of millions, begging the other over or sending questionable thirst traps for each other's bdays? Y'all treating Jikook as if this is some fanfiction & not real life behavior they're doing, which would be considered both physical & emotional cheating. Y'all can piss off trying to gaslight me into thinking Jikook are dating other members & this is normal acceptable bro behavior, when I know damn well it isn't.

Published 💜

[copiousloverofcopia]

HERE IT IS! The moment some of you have been waiting for...well maybe not really lol...

Since I completed The Red Dress as promised I have started on one of my promised other new works.....UNDER THE SPELL!

Please be nice I am SO not used to writing for Mary, so I hope its ok!

Mary Goore x OC Piper!

Piper and Mary have been best friends since they first met as children. When Mary and her boyfriend Sid asked her to come along on gigs, Piper thought it was a no-brainer. But as the excitement of the buzzing amps dies down, she realizes she wants more—now if only she can get him to agree.

Chapter 1: Fishnets and Regrets

Also available HERE on AO3!

Eventually will be NSFW below the cut 😈

She was trying her best to stay cool, staving off the tears that relentlessly pricked at her eyes. The sharp-winged cat eyeliner and heavily mascaraed lashes sent a trail of black down her cheeks. A battle lost, but only for a short moment until she could bring herself to carry on. Piper stared into the mirror of another random bar's bathroom, angry at herself for not realizing what she wanted to do with her life sooner. Despite her upset, the show must go on. Knowing that would need to stuff it down before heading out to face them again—her chosen family and partners in crime, Repugnant. 

She had spent the last 6 years of her life traveling with them and when the sounds of humming amps kicked on and the guitars screamed as they were being tuned—she needed to move her ass. Before heading back out, she adjusted her tattered fishnets, that had seen better days, and re-tied her scuffed up black combat boots. They were her favorite—a gift from Mary many years ago. Piper checked the mirror, once more, just to be sure that her mohawk hadn't fallen, before using her foot to kick open the door.  

Her mind was still heavy with anger and hurt. The fight she and Sid had was only a short time ago and it left her feeling heated, like she was roasting from the inside. Now she'd have to go and watch them perform—pissed off but having got her shit together enough to keep the peace. After all, there were still a bunch more gigs to go and the road home, for her, didn’t really exist. 

It was the first time in a long time Piper wished she was somewhere else. Traveling with the four guys and Tom's girl, Annie, had been a dream come true. She lived for the music, the lights of the stage, and the energy from the crowd as the guys performed. Having grown up with Mary and getting close with the rest of them, it was only natural that they all worked so well together. So, when Mary and Sid asked her to tag along while they toured the world, she thought she couldn’t ask for anything more—that was until last week. 

She was late—very late. Her period, which had normally come like clockwork, had decided to give both her and Sid the scare of a lifetime. Both of them in a full-blown panic as the reality of that drunken mishap set in. Sid was pissed, throwing shit around the hourly rate hotel room, spouting comments about her needing to get shit taken care of and him not wanting any damn kids. Piper wasn’t at all surprised at his psychotic meltdown, but what she was surprised about was her reaction to the negative test. In that moment everything changed, and she was, for lack of a better word, conflicted. 

When only one line appeared on the stick, Sid was ecstatic. Jumping up and down acting like a complete and utter fool. Thrilled out of his mind that he had dodged yet another bullet despite his recklessness. Piper was relieved too, in a way. Sid was not necessarily the "fatherly" type, but the idea of having a kid hadn't left her—even a week later. 

That's when the fight happened, and of course it just had to happen before the show. Sid couldn't let things go and give her the space she needed when she told him nothing was wrong. So, with his incessant pushing and Piper's built-up anger, the truth came spilling out like blood from a gushing wound. Not her finest moment to be sure, but she wondered if all of this was what needed to happen.

Things had been rocky for some time with Sid. He was a good man deep down, but definitely immature and Piper was pretty sure his photo was next to "man child" in the dictionary. She loved him, but she knew at this point it was over between them—Piper had figured out she wanted more than just a spot in the tour bus and glorified groupie status with the band. She told Sid she wanted to move on with her life and settle down. And with that revelation, blow up number 1,346 began. Leaving them officially split up and Piper in an awkward place—feeling empty. 

She took in a deep breath before continuing down the hall and stepping out onto the floor, the band playing when she had made her way to the pit. The guitars were drilling into the audience’s skulls and the drums banging hard, vibrating in her chest. The feeling of the music coursing through her, was truly something she'd never get enough of. Piper watched Sid playing his guitar, Tom on drums, Carlos on bass, and of course Mary absolutely slaughtering the vocals. The frustration, hanging itself within her soul, shredding with the sounds of the death metal they came to play. 

The smell of cigarette smoke was heavy in the air and the sticky floor pulled at the bottoms of her boots, but she didn't care. Piper head-banged her way through Draped in Cerecloth and tried to just let go. Her mohawk swinging around and the chains on her belt rattling as she jumped up and down, screaming into the universe and giving every last bit of energy she had to Mary and the guys. Thankfully it was gonna be a great night of music, but also a night she would never forget.

The show was a blast, the crowd losing it over the performance and tearing the place up as they rocked out to what their parents surely referred to as “deafening noise”. As their spot was over, Mary and the guys along with Piper and Annie took the opportunity to throw a few back before heading out for the night. All of them laughing and celebrating another show well done, Piper being a bit less enthusiastic as usual. Mary, taking note that she and Sid had been keeping their distance. 

The bar had now been closed for over an hour and while everyone else minus the stagehands had left to head back to the bus, Piper decided to hang out for some time alone. She sat by herself with a beer in hand and picked at yet another tear in her fishnets, when she saw Mary coming towards her. Fuck , she thought to herself knowing exactly where this was going.  

Mary Goore had been covered in blood since the beginning of the show. Preferring to start things out with a bang. Dripping with it as he raged in sonnets of death and the defiling of corpses. The metallic liquid, now managing to cover his shirt and matted a bit of his hair, but he didn't care. It was another glorious night for him and the guys, though he couldn’t let go of the feeling that things were off with Sid and Piper. 

He felt a connection to her like no other—the best of friends since the cradle. Their families were close from the beginning. When Mary's Dad took off and Piper's parents were killed, they were the ones to help each other hold it together. She had been a staple in his life. A constant he knew he could always count on. Things had been weird lately between her and Sid, that was for sure. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out things were at an all-time low. 

"Pipes? Why aren't you on the bus?" He asked as he slumped down beside her on the edge of the stage. Piper shrugged a bit, taking another swig of her beer to finish it off before speaking. 

"Just didn't feel like it quite yet. I figured I'd wait till everything got packed up and then head over."

"Bullshit." Mary said straight faced and serious toned. He was a bit intimidating after a show, all that blood over his face and the tiniest amount of grumble to his voice—after having pushed it so hard.

"Oh come on. Don't do that thing you do." Piper begged—her words futile. She knew he could sense it, there was definitely something she wasn’t telling him. Piper was surprised that Sid hadn't told him yet about their break up, since he had never known how to keep his mouth shut. 

"You know better sweetness than to lie to my face." He told her as he widened his gaze and tried to lean in closer. Piper pressed her lips together into a tight line and furrowed her brows before dropping her eyes to her lap. Damn Mary for always being right and always knowing when she was hiding something. 

“Sid and I well…we aren’t a thing anymore.” Piper said calmly before looking back over at Mary. His face was filled with disgust, imagining the multitude of things Sid could have done to destroy things with Piper, who had stuck by his ass for so long. 

“What did that rat bastard do now?” Mary growled knowing full well how asinine his friend could be. Piper put her hand on Mary’s shoulder to calm him. It was slick with blood and sweat and some face paint, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Mary grabbed for her hand and gave her a concerned look. 

“No Mare, it’s nothing like that. We just decided that we want different things—I want different things.” Piper explained. 

“Well what the fuck does that even mean?” Mary laughed, though a bit nervously.

“I think this may be the end of the road for me. After the next few gigs, I’m gonna have to figure something out. I got other things I wanna do with my life and being stuck on the bus isn’t it anymore.”

“Where is this coming from? I thought you loved being on tour with us?” Mary asked her, completely confused and honestly more shaken than if it had been only the Sid issue. He didn’t want Piper to leave. Half the time she was the only thing that kept him from going off the deep end. What’s got her ready to run if it ain't Sid , he asked himself. 

“I wanna settle down, take up root somewhere and well that's not gonna happen with Sid or while I’m on the road with you all.” Piper admitted. She and Mary had usually been upfront with each other. Each appreciating the other's candor, saving them from misunderstandings but tonight she was withholding something. And while Piper might have wanted to keep the intimate details of her heartache to herself, Mary would know she was lying before she could speak the words.

“What a pussy.” he snorted, angry with Sid for spurring this whole thing on, thinking to himself anyone would be lucky to be committed to Piper. “Honestly Pipes you are better off without him…but I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that I want you to stay. Don’t go.”  

“Uh…fuck…Mare that’s not the start.” Piper explained, swallowing back the knot forming in her throat. Now Mary was on red alert. All his senses, buzzing with something big about to come out of Piper’s mouth—and then she said it. 

“I wanna have a baby.” she told him, Mary turning even paler than his face paints. It was only when his stunned stare turned into a dissociated blink, that Piper knew he hadn’t gone catatonic, “Mare?”

“Ah…umm…” he began smearing the blood through his hair as he ran his hand over his head. Clearly still in shock from Piper’s confession, “...what happened to you starting that band? What were you going to call it? Crazy Chrysanthemums or something?” he asked, unable to think of anything else to say in his stupor.  

“It was Wild Violets…That doesn't matter. That was just a fleeting idea.” Piper explained, “You’re missing the point.”

“And this ISN’T a fleeting idea?” Mary continued. 

“No…I honestly hadn’t thought about this kinda thing at all, but we had a scare and well… I can’t stop thinking about it.” Then Mary stood up, beginning to pace the stage as he took in everything his best friend was saying. Her words, hitting him like daggers to the chest.  

“Piper…”

“Yes?” She asked as Mary walked over to her and held out his hand. Waiting for her to take it so he could lift her up onto the stage. Piper gave it to him, quickly getting up on her feet as Mary and her eyes met in what remained of the stage lights. 

“So not a joke…not a fleeting idea?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Pulling at the worn neckline of his Morbid t-shirt.  

“Not a joke I swear.” Piper replied, putting up her hands like some girl scout signaling her pledge to the troop. Mary got quiet again—his eyes dropping away from hers and down to the scratched up remnants of old band stickers and other crap that had adhered to the floor of the stage. “Mare?” she called to him, watching him get lost in thought. 

“Sorry I am still trying to wrap my head around you wanting Sid to be a dad.” Mary jabbed, trying to insert some humor into the situation, but he could tell it only made Piper more upset. 

“Oh come on Pipes you know this whole thing is a little fucked right? Hell, even I'd be a better Dad than..." Mary began when the idea struck Piper like a ton of bricks. One she instantly knew felt right, but oh boy was it going to be a bitch to convince Mary. He could see it—the look in her eye told him she was scheming and now his anxiety went through the roof. “…what are you thinkin’... 

“Mare…here me out. What if you—” Piper barely got out the first words before Mary began pacing around once more, his eyes blown wide and his jaw dragging across the floor. 

"Nope, nope don't like that." Mary said, shaking his head. “No way you’re even considering what I think you are considering.” 

“But Mare…you are my best friend. My other half, I can’t think of anyone else better. I don’t wanna waste my time with some deadbeat guys…not when I have you. Not when I know that you’re perfect.” Piper finished, a newfound energy surging through her. Wondering why she hadn’t thought of this before tonight. Mary was visibly in shock. His mind swirling with the implications of his best friend’s words. Wondering if he was finally losing his mind from all the stress of touring.  

“Perfect for what Pipes?” he asked her, straining against the words he knew were about to leave her lips. 

“I want it to be you. I want you and I…to have a baby.”

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 11: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should curiously socialize with a few of the boat travelers ...

~

"The Adventurer grabs one of the ornate glass bowls near the buffet table, meekly gathering some cheese and vegetables as he scans the crowd. For the first 15 minutes of the lunch, he mostly crouches in a corner seat, nibbling on his food and nervously fielding the occasional drunken question from a passing party guest..

Knowing he should.. probably... actually socialize at some point, he begrudgingly chooses conversational partners, squeezing his eyes shut and pointing around randomly until he lands on someone.....

The first is a scrawny man in a flashy suit, wobbly from wine but still keeping a vaguely charming demeanor about him. He proudly introduces himself as a "legal expert", then goes on to ramble for a while about the laws in the area, how drastically they vary from city to city (plus a few veiled hints on how to safely break them), and that if you travel a lot it can be hard to keep up with it all.

He mentions, quite conveniently, that he's recently published a book on the topic, a legal guide for local explorers, and offers to give The Adventurer a copy for a special discounted price... but... then soon recalls that the crate of books he'd planned to sell on the boat sadly ended up falling into the river earlier during a "silly little mishap"..

In place of a book, he simply slides The Adventurer a glossy mint colored paper swirled with golden floral motifs, supposedly serving as some sort of business card, though the actual contact information seems obscured beneath the cluttered design. The Lawyer also pulls off his scarf as he rises to leave, wrapping it around The Adventurer's shoulders with a little waving flourish (not the first time someone has confused his anxious shaking for cold shivers). The Adventurer stutters out a confused thank you, then watches as the Lawyer stumbles off, mumbling to himself that he's been drinking too much and "truly must find somewhere to piss"......

The second person he approaches is an older woman, hunched over a table fidgeting with a handful of colorful glass dice, spinning and stacking and arranging them into patterns whilst her thoughts drift elsewhere. Initially, she gives evasive answers when asked personal questions, but soon grows more talkative once the topic of local flora and fauna arises. She apparently used to adventure as well, roaming the lands to document various elements of nature relevant to her mysterious "private research" - though, at her age, she's now resigned to casual boat rides rather than riskily hiking alone through uncharted wilderness. Gently laying a worn leather journal of watercolor paintings out onto the tabletop, she points at various berries, leaves, and animals, eagerly describing their significance...

After chatting for a while, she abruptly changes topics, mentioning that sometimes she can "sense things which she should not" (whatever the hell that means), then asks him to pick one of her dice. He hesitates, but she just stares, refusing to elaborate further.. Finding even 30 seconds of awkward silent eye contact physically impossible to bear, he hurriedly plops a finger down in front of an iridescent yellow die. She chuckles..

Scooping up all of the dice from the table, she rattles them in her clasped hands, then brings them up to her ear as if to listen... to something?? A few moments later, she turns back to him, speaking in a raspy whisper: "There are others, melding your footprints with their own, seeking a gift you do not yet know - this is what I see."

Before he can ask her for any elaboration, the Captain returns, grumbling that The Adventurer has already stayed 5 minutes past the time limit and swatting at him with a broom to shoo him off of the boat. Apparently an hour can go by fast....

After climbing back into his dinky raft, he sails mostly successfully down the river, finally making it to a point that, at least based on his map, SHOULD be where the main road picks back up past the detour. He crashes into a small grouping of rocks whilst trying to navigate back to the shore, but he was planning on disassembling the raft to get his rope and supplies back anyway, so.. aside from a scraped knee and possibly broken pinky toe, he decides it's actually fine. The cat is okay, which is all that really matters, anyhow.

By the time he's taken apart his boat, eaten a quick meal, and bandaged his leg, the sun seems to have nearly set. It's later in the night than he'd usually like to travel, but, where he's going is a pretty commonly used road, so maybe it's safe? He's exhausted from socializing, but could probably muster enough energy to walk for at least a while. Or perhaps he should just call it a night and find a place to sleep.. But.. where??? What should he do?

-

Additional information

acquired a long, warm, expensive scarf

acquired slightly increased knowledge of local plants

acquired vague information from the 'dice based fortune teller', or whatever that was meant to be

acquired a business card (+ ability to get away with one minor crime free of legal consequence)

acquired mild nausea for the next 5hrs from weird buffet cheese

acquired badly scraped knee and sprained toe (will walk slightly slower for the next 2 days)

the adventurer's current main goal: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[gaystuffgarbage]

Okay, now I have the idea in my little dumb head that Asher and Connor almost got in trouble one day just walking around town.

My brain spun one funny-nightmarish story that I won't hold back from telling you.

One day, close to evening, Connor suggested to Asher that they go for a walk along the streets and eat at some cheap café (or vice versa, Asher suggested to Connor... it doesn't matter).

They're strolling quietly along a deserted street, but suddenly an armed guy in an obviously drunken state rum out of the alley just ahead of them. And you could tell he was pissed off. He started firing (machine gun lol?) left and right, and since there weren't many people on the street, the shells were flying in waves. The guys didn't even have time to realize anything. Saved them (thanks to my brain damned) my sona, Proto. Like a true hero in a cheap movie, he blocked the guys with his body. BUT. There is one thing to consider in this situation. PROTO HAS THE STRENGTH OF A BEAST. And taking down a man with a gun with a few holes in his body wasn't a big problem for him.

The problem was dealing with the bleeding wounds from the mess. All my boy could do was crawl off into a corner somewhere and try to do something about it.

But guys, instead of running away after the shootout with the other bystanders, decided to visit Proto in his corner. And after they realized that the poor boy wasn't going to make it on his own, they just? picked him up? in their arms? like a little kitten? and dragged? him? home? to Connor?

And Proto was fine with that move. Shadow threw a tantrum, like your mom yelling at you for bringing a lousy kitten in off the street. But in the end, he agreed because "that kid saved our lives, have some compassion."

And Proto lived with everyone else, like a regular family member, or family friend.

...

My brain sometimes does some surprisingly cute and crazy things, sorry...

O

[piss-in-my-house]

Must admit I havent been writting mostly due to lack of inspiration and because Ive been busy with work and life in general. With the hurricane coming (im safe for now(? Ive gone pretty far north Im not in the direct path anymore)) Ive had this prologue idea for my Kokichi/Makoto fic (which is becoming less and less omo related but Im still gonna weave it in lol). Okay so idea

Makoto and Mondo have been friends since high school. While Mondo doesnt attend college he still comes around to town mostly to hang out with Taka (Mondo's crush and best friend since also high school) who is a student. Mondo and Makoto hang out whenever Taka isnt available. All three sometimes hang and go frat house parties with Mukuro and Junko.

One day Junko invites Makoto and Mondo tags along. Taka was busy craming for an a exam so he doesnt go. One too many drinks later Mondo takes a drunk Makoto back to his apartment. Makoto proceeds to spend a good amount of time hugging the toilet and sobering up. Mondo hangs around to make sure Makoto is fine.

While still sorta drunk Makoto asks Mondo why he hasnt asked Taka out yet. Mondo replies saying he isnt ready yet. Makoto asks if Mondo ever saw him as a potential partner. Mondo awkwardly replies no because he thought Makoto wasnt interested in having a male partner. Makoto sadly replies he doesnt know if he likes guys and asks if he and Mondo can fool around. Mondo tells him sure but sober up first.

After drinking alot of water and sobering up Makoto gets nervous and blushy for asking what he asked. Mondo laughs and says its fine but if he does want to expiriment then he's down. Makoto hesitates and agrees. Mondo asures him he'll take it slow and that they can stop if Makoto feels overwhelmed.

Sober sexual shenanigans shappens. After they both finish and cool down Makoto asks Mondo how he came to realize his sexuality. Mondo tells him that he sorta always knewn that he is gay. Makoto asks him how he knows that Taka is interested in men. Mondo tells him that he and Taka have had a similar talk. While Taka isnt completely sure himself, he does feel comfortable with him.

Mondo asks Makoto if the sex has helped him come to some revalation about his sexuality. Makoto shakes his head and says while he had a good time he doesnt know for sure yet. Mondo tells him its alright to not know yet and asks him if he wants to cuddle. Makoto takes up on the offer and cuddles. While they both drift to sleep Makoto thinks to himself that even though fooled around with another man, it all felt good and nothing was wrong. He hopes for the best for Mondo when he finally decides to ask Taka out

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

just kidding, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: There was a time where you would be out partying, getting drunk and fucking up a storm. But you’re different now. You stopped drinking. Now you’re the one waiting for Kim Taehyung to call so you can pick him up from his drunken adventures. There’s just one small hitch –  Taehyung’s roommate, Jeon Jungkook, offering you a mojito.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, (a little) alcohol consumption; slight crack at the start lol; smut (fem reader, thigh riding, handjob, fingering, m-receiving oral); non-idol!AU; Jungkook is a tempter and he knows it; noona!reader and you’re a nympho, whoops

--

“I don’t drink.”

“Oh.”

Jeon Jungkook blinked at you, holding out the mojito.

“But… I made it.”

“That’s true. But I don’t drink.”

He pursed his lips and frowned.

“You sure?” he asked, putting on his best puppy eyes.

“Yup.”

“I promise it’s not poisoned.”

You laughed, jangling your car keys. “I have to drive later. But also, I do not drink.”

He nodded and took a sip of it. “It’s really smooth.”

You smiled and went back to your phone. Kim Taehyung was supposed to text you in a bit so you could pick him up from a party. In exchange, he let you borrow his computer to play League of Legends since he had a better PC and internet than your apartment. There was an event going on, so you had to grind games. You were getting tired though and you didn’t want to be in the middle of a game when Taehyung called half-drunk.

Now you were sitting on the couch, as Taehyung’s roommate Jeon Jungkook stood there and took sips from his mojito. Just standing there, thinking. He did that a lot, drifting off into space randomly. You figured it was some sort of weird habit. He was wearing a striped black-and-white turtleneck and black leather pants. His cheek-length black hair was pinned back on the right side, revealing his undercut. It seemed like he was going out, but he had spent all night in his room before going to the kitchen and then appearing with said mojito. Why? Honestly, you had no idea.

“Are you going somewhere?” you asked, looking up at him from the sofa.

Jungkook snapped out of it and stared at you. “What?”

You pointed to his outfit. “You’re dressed all fancy.”

Jungkook looked down. “Oh. Uh, not really. I was going to go with Taehyung tonight but I had an assignment to finish that I forgot about. I never changed.”

You nodded. Hm.

Okay.

“How do you know Taehyung-ssi, anyway, noona?”

“I sucked his dick once.”

Jungkook nearly dropped his glass.

You calmly scrolled through Instagram. You flickered your eyes up to see Jungkook’s shocked face and his red ears.

“I’m kidding,” you chuckled, seeing Jungkook blink rapidly to collect himself. “I used to be the Biology lab TA. He’d ask for help a lot. And he plays League, so we ended up hanging out. Also, I have a car.”

“R-right…” Jungkook crab-walked to the armchair next to the sofa and sat down, placing his drink on the table. “Right, yeah.”

You two sat in silence, rather comfortable for you, rather awkward for Jungkook. You didn’t come here that often, but it was always only to borrow Taehyung’s internet or to pick him up from random outings. It was never a big deal to you, as Taehyung was always nice and bought you food later as thanks. As for Jeon Jungkook, he was just kind of there. Introverted, quiet, sometimes piped up to inquire about something when he was curious. You weren’t exactly talkative, but he didn’t bother you either, so it was never too memorable.

“What’s on your shirt?” Jungkook asked, tilted his head.

You lifted your phone to give him a better look at the nine-pointed star and bleeding goat head of your long-sleeved black shirt. “It’s an American metal band.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “You listen to metal?”

You put your phone back down. “Yup.”

You suddenly remembered your legs were wide open because you were wearing your black velvet pants and they were hot as fuck. Wearing these was a mistake. You closed your legs and settled them on the couch. They had been expensive though, so you felt like you had to wear them to get your money’s worth. Damnnit. Why did you buy these again?

“Why don’t you drink alcohol?”

You closed Instagram and opened Twitter. “Because I become sexually uninhibited.”

Silence.

You looked up to see Jungkook trying to process what you said, imaginary question marks popping on top of his head.

“It means I fuck anything with legs, Jungkook.”

His brown doe eyes went wide. “W-what?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, you know, one time one of my friends caught me in a room with my clothes off blowing three guys at once, so I figured, hmm, maybe I shouldn’t drink anymore. That ever happen to you?” you added nonchalantly.

Jungkook shook his head so quickly his long black hair floated in the air.

“Huh. Well, me neither,” you chuckled. “I was just kidding.”

Jungkook looked like a mother who was trying to process all of their child’s sex escapades. “That’s good then. Whew,” he remarked with an awkward laugh. He took another long, hasty sip of his mojito.

“It was four guys.”

Jungkook nearly choked. He snapped his head up to see your shoulders shaking as you tried to contain your snickering, hiding behind your phone. He glared at you, clearing his throat sharply.

“You shouldn’t lie, noona,” he muttered, frowning.

You lowered your phone and straightened. “I was laughing at your expression. I wasn’t lying.”

He narrowed his eyes, disbelieving. “About what part?” he said warily.

“I do not drink because I will literally try to fuck anyone in my immediate vicinity when I’m drunk,” you stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “You can imagine it’s not very good for my sexual health or my social life as I stumble out of a party covered in cum of four guys I don’t know.”

Jungkook was in the middle of drinking his mojito and swallowed so hard the entire drink disappeared into his throat.

“What?” he wheezed out, slamming his chest with his fist.

You put your hands up. “It happens.”

Jungkook looked as if he as going to pass out, either from the image or from drinking too fast. You picked up your phone again and set Taehyung a text.

Are you dead? I think I killed your roommate.

Jungkook shook his head vigorously. “You must be joking.”

“Nope, that actually happened. Ask Taehyung.”

Jungkook looked taken aback. “What?” he said again in the same panicked tone.

“I told you someone found me.”

You swore that if this was the Wild West, a tumbleweed would have drifted by. Jungkook looked as white as a sheet. You calmly plucked the glass from his hand since it seemed like he was rapidly losing focus of his surroundings.

“How… That’s so dangerous!” Jungkook sputtered, seemingly coming back to life.

“Indeed, which is why I am sitting here right now and not piss drunk in a random bedroom in someone’s house,” you replied calmly, waiting for Taehyung to text you back. “See, this is why you don’t offer me a drink because then I would try to fuck you. You’ve been spared.”

Jungkook gave you a very strange expression and suddenly crossed one leg over the other. You rubbed your eyes. Hopefully Taehyung didn’t stay out too late. You were getting sleepy.

“Well, you still have to be attracted to them, r-right?” Jungkook commented, looking away and biting his knuckle.

You didn’t look up from your phone.

“I suppose. I don’t really have a type, and when you’re drunk you only look at the parts you’re attracted to anyway and forget about anything else,” you responded, chuckling at a cute cat picture. “At least you’re attractive, so if I met you at a party drunk, I’d fuck you, easy.” Owls could sit cross-legged? What? You squinted at the meme, trying to see if it was Photoshopped.

Silence. Absolute fucking silence.

You decided that it seemed unlikely the photo of this sitting owl was Photoshopped and lifted your head to see Jungkook staring at you like you had three heads.

“What?”

“You’re…” Jungkook chuckled awkwardly. “Just kidding, right?”

You blinked. “What? About you being attractive?” You pointed to him. “No. I’m not. You’re handsome, Jungkook.”

You saw his ears turning red once again. “Ahaha… but you wouldn’t fuck me, right?”

“I would.”

A crow cawed loudly outside the window.

Jungkook wasn’t blinking. Was he dead? Was Taehyung going to come home to a statue of a roommate? You tilted your head and waved your hand in front of his face. Jungkook didn’t move. Maybe he went into shock.

“Jungkook? You alive in there?” you asked, waving your hand some more.

He blinked rapidly, startling you. “I… I…”

Okay, now he was scaring you. Was he broken? Did Taehyung have an A.I. for a roommate and not tell you? Taehyung, please come home and oil your Jungkook, you thought dryly as you watched him scrunch up his nose, as if he was trying to stretch his face muscles out.

“You surprised me,” Jungkook sputtered, nervously rubbing the back of his head. “I just… there’s no way…”

“That I would fuck you?” you replied, completely chill. He turned even redder. You placed a hand on your cheek and rested your elbow on the couch. “Why not? You’re cute, have nice fashion sense, seem like a decent guy.”

Yeah, Jungkook was definitely breaking down because he did not seem to know how to form proper sentences anymore. He was like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth awkwardly.

“But, I couldn’t though.” You cut off his attempts to fathom a thought. He stiffened, his doe eyes shifting to you. “Because you’re Taehyung’s friend, not a stranger. I try not to mess up my friendships, you know?”

He swallowed thickly. “R-right.”

You removed your hand from your cheek and cracked your neck, leaning back against the plushy couch arm. Sheesh, where was Taehyung? You could have played an entire ARAM in the time he was messing about. He told you around this time, but perhaps he had run late. Oh well.

“But… if he doesn’t know…”

Hold up.

You lifted your head, slowly, slowly to Jungkook’s nervous stare and shifty eyes.

“I mean, if Taehyung doesn’t know… doesn’t count, right?” he asked innocently.

His dark hair obscured part of his angular face, pink lips slightly parted. His eyes were watching your every move like a hawk, brows furrowed slightly. The living room light reflected off his glowing tan skin and the glossiness of his lips.

If you don’t stop looking like that, you thought. There’s going to be consequences.

“Let’s not tread dangerous waters here,” you said quietly.

One of his dark eyebrows quirked upwards ever-so-slightly. “How is it dangerous? Taehyung’s going to call you when he needs to be picked up. He’s going to see the inside of your car before he even sees the inside of this apartment.”

Uh oh. Now your heart was beating fast. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Alcohol made you sexually uninhibited because you really, really enjoyed having sex. Far too much. But you couldn’t go through life fucking everything with legs (or without them – to be honest, it wasn’t that strict of a requirement) because, hello, societal standards? Social appropriateness of maybe not fucking the cashier at your favorite coffee spot or your friend’s roommate in his apartment? You know, you had to be a productive human being and not a damn nympho. Wasn’t like you were getting paid for it.

Jungkook lifted his leg from his knee and spread them, tilting his chin upward.

Oh ho?

Well, now you knew why Jungkook crossed his legs, because a very obvious bulge was struggling in his leather pants. Where was embarrassed Jungkook? Shocked Jungkook? The Jungkook that was stunned at your crude words and straightforward manner?

Give him back. This is too much.

Perhaps you had been a little too frank for once – ah, who are you kidding, you’d probably been in this situation before.

Jungkook’s right hand slid up his thigh, long fingers with tiny, delicate tattoos, tracing the contours of his muscular quads. You tilted your head as he danced his fingers along his inner thigh before spreading them over his bulge and cupping it, stroking slowly through the thick fabric as he licked his lips.

“I am not drunk enough for this,” you muttered.

“Are you scared?” Jungkook asked softly, still palming himself through his pants. “Scared Taehyungie will be mad at you?” You felt a muscle in your face twitch. It seemed that he knew he was getting the better of you, because his voice was dropping low, sultry. You did not like being challenged, because well… you always tried to rise to the challenge. To your detriment, sometimes.

“Is Taehyung the boss of you?”

Fuck.

You snapped your head at him, narrowing your eyes.

“No one is the boss of me,” you replied icily.

Jungkook softened his features, laying his head back in the armchair. His hair curled around his cheek as his breathing deepened. His teeth caught his lower lip and gradually released it, the pink flesh popping back into place. The tiny mole under his lip trembled.

“Then do whatever you want, noona.”

Your eyes narrowed to slits, nails digging into your palms.

“What’s gotten into you?”

Jungkook’s voice was a smokey wisp, soaking into you.

“Just imagining you on your knees, naked, covered in cum…” He groaned, rocking his hips into his hand. “Sounds so fucking hot.”

Well. It had been. It was fucking hot, it made you wet just thinking about that night. It had felt amazing as the cum dripped down your skin, covering you, making you filthy with your sinful lust, so delicious and raw and dirty that right now you sat up, spreading your legs again because the space between your thighs was too fucking hot, too fucking much. Stupid velvet pants.

You got up from the couch, eyes still on Jungkook, his pupils dilating, tongue tracing the outskirts of his lips. He leaned his head back a little and moaned your name, long and lustful, eyelids fluttering. His dark hair brushed against his brows.

“Stop,” you breathed, reaching down to push your shirt up. Your fingers hovered over the button of your pants. Too hot. Too fucking hot. “You’re doing this on purpose. You’re tempting me.”

The side of his lips curved upward into a lazy smirk.

“I am.”

You placed your phone on the coffee table. The sound was on. Taehyung still hadn’t texted you. You would hear it vibrate against the wood. You took another step, unbuttoning your pants. Fuck. Why was Jungkook so sexy? You could resist if he wasn’t so damn hot.

“Don’t want you to think…” You swallowed; throat tight. “Don’t want you to think I’m treating you like a sex object.” The zipper of your pants slid down. “Because you seem like a nice guy.”

He smiled, undoing his pants too, sighing as the zipper freed his bulge.

“If I was your sex object…” Jungkook purred, pushing his tight leather pants down, down. “Even for only a little bit, I wouldn’t hold it against you, noona.”

Now your velvet pants were being peeled off your hips, leaving you in your seamless black panties. Oh, fuck, his thighs. Muscular and powerful, skin so pretty you wanted to touch. His eyes slid down your body.

“Holy shit, your thighs.”

Seemed like you both had the same idea. You climbed onto Jungkook’s lap, straddling one of his thighs. Now he was close to you, smelling like fresh linen, presence so warm and powerful you were being drugged by it. Your hands slid onto his shoulders, gripping them finger by finger, breathing hard as he tensed them. Slowly, you sat down on his left thigh, gasping as your soaked, clothed heat touched him. He grinned, flexing it under you. His own hand slid up your thigh, squeezing it, watching his fingers sink into your softness.

“Now, this,” Jungkook breathed, staring into your eyes. “This is a sexy body.”

Your heart was beating so fast, so fast. He watched you closely, eyes so dark that you felt like you were drowning in them. You rolled your hips into his thigh, hissing as you became wetter. He flexed the muscle under you, hard and unforgiving, sitting back and letting you rub yourself against it. You smeared your juices into his skin, stimulating your clit, inhaling sharply. Jungkook was still clutching your thigh, his large hand pressed into you.

“Is that enough for you?” he drawled, his other hand sliding up to land on your other thigh. “Is that all you want from me?”

Your eyes flickered to his playful, daring brown orbs.

“There’s no time…” you muttered.

“Take off your panties,” he nudged.

He placed his hands on your waist and lifted you up. You bit your lip, uncertain.

“Noona, I want you to feel good.”

He slipped one finger on the side of your black panties and pushed down. You took the other side and pushed them down, raising your legs to pull out one and then the other. Your panties fluttered to the ground. Jungkook’s gaze on you as you lowered again, bare and dripping, onto his thick thigh. Oh, holy hell. He tensed it and pressed your hips down, grinding his thigh onto your slopping wet pussy. You moaned, grasping his forearms through his turtleneck, feeling the strength in them, the hardness. You closed your eyes, humping his thigh, lost in bliss.

“Can you cum like that?” You felt Jungkook lean forward, lips brushing against yours. “Cum you cum just by rubbing yourself on me?”

Tiny, rigid nods. “If you... kiss me.”

He groaned as he felt your opening tense on his skin. “I thought you would never ask.”

And then his lips were on yours, soft, delicate. Sweet, erotic kisses contrasting with how hard you were fucking his leg, his tongue dancing in the periphery of yours, dodging you playfully as you whined, clutching him tighter. He pressed you down harder, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You shuddered, wetness pooling at his kisses, your core tightening as he whispered your name into your lips.

“Your body is so fucking delectable,” his murmured. “So sexy, it’s sinful.”

You clenched your jaw as you basically rammed your hips into his thigh, slippery and hard, your clit throbbing with need.

“Cum for me, noona.” You could feel his lips form the words as he kissed you, awe in his voice. “Cum on my thigh.”

You dug your nails into his clothed arms and shut your eyes, moaning his name, feeling the strings inside you snap, pleasure waterfalling into you as you came, squelching onto his skin, so viscous and thick that it added to the lubrication, your swollen clit throbbing. Your eyelids fluttered as his hands pressed you down, grinding your hips into his muscle so you could ride your high, extend it until you were melting, hands falling from his arms. He cradled you gently, your chest heaving with effort.

“J-Jungkook…”

“Mhm?”

You cracked your eyes open. “Has my phone made any noise?”

He shook his head. His dark hair covered part of his left eye. “No, noona.”

“Ah.”

Maybe Taehyung was getting laid. Good for him.

“I’m going to touch you now,” you stated. To the point.

Jungkook grinned.

You reached down to his black boxer briefs and yanked them down, freeing his cock and balls. He lifted his legs a little and you pushed them down, but he took your hand, placing it on his semi-hard cock. He moaned as your fingers wrapped around him.

“Do you want to take it off?” you asked quietly, referring to his underwear.

“No,” Jungkook replied tightly, cupping his hand around yours, using your hand to stroke himself a few times. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You nudged his hand aside and began your pace. He leaned back, gasping softly. Your grip wasn’t what it used to be. Carpal tunnel was a bitch. Still, you furrowed your brow, concentrating, He swelled in your hand, pre-cum leaking at the red tip dripping onto your fingers. You stopped for a moment to coat your palm with it, bringing it to your mouth and licking your hand, moaning at his taste. Jungkook shivered, watching your saliva spread all over before returning to his cock, adding to the lubrication.

He pressed his head into the back of the armchair, hips rising as you started again, jaw tense.

“I’m not as good as before,” you gritted out. “My wrist–”

“It’s perfect,” Jungkook interjected. “Fuck, your hand is perfect.”

He was rock hard in your hand as you jacked him off. You snuck a glance at him. His hands were on his face, combing through his dark hair, eyes closing, mouth open as he moaned, rutting into your palm.

He was just so, so sensual that it was driving you insane, his noises making you wet. There was something feral about it, the way he looked at you through his lashes.

“Can I finger you?” he pleaded. “Please.”

Your hips were raised to get a good angle, your arousal already dripping down your thigh.

“Of course. Touch me, Jungkook.”

He lowered his hands, hair all over his face, staring at you through the veil. His fingers slid up your thigh, slipping in between. Dipping in, moaning as he touched your wetness. You sucked in a breath, feeling his fingertip graze your swollen clit. Your grip tightened.

“Jungkook.” Your eyes found his, glazed with lust. “You can be rougher with me. If you want.”

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Don’t want to hurt you…”

You smirked.

“You forget who you’re talking to.”

He pushed two fingers into you, feeling you suck him in as you stroked him, smile still on your lips. Jungkook grinned, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbed it as he began to thrust his fingers into you, matching your pace, the two of you focused on getting each other off, breath mixing between your bodies.

“Noona?”

“Yeah?” you panted, whimpering at his roughness, his fingers scissoring in you, stretching your walls as you squeezed back, faster and faster.

“Wanna cum in your mouth.”

You chuckled as he shoved a third finger into you, punishing your clit repeatedly, so full, so good, it was making you crazy, but you had to focus, you had to get him off.

“This is a weird angle.”

Jungkook suddenly pulled his fingers out and pinched your clit, making you hiss and your legs shake, pained whimpers clawing from your throat.

“Do it.” His voice was a low growl. “Do it and I’ll reward you.”

You slid off the chair, still stroking his cock, narrowing your eyes at him. Jungkook looked down at you, smirk on his pretty pink lips, whispering your name. You removed your hand and replaced it with your mouth. Fuck. He sighed, hand coming up to tangle in your hair, not quite pressing you down but holding you there, his taste coating your tongue, his hard length throbbing in your mouth. You moaned onto his cock and his hips trembled, his long bangs covering his left eye.

Ugh, the way he looked at you. Your felt your pussy clench, demanding his cock.

Instead, you began to move your head up and down, soft lips around him, mouth tight around the head and length. His hand stayed there, moving with you, firm, reminding you that you couldn’t stop, that you had to keep going until he came. You set a nice, fast, tight pace, already knowing he was close, hearing his breathy groans, repeating your name over and over.

“Always thought you were fuckable,” Jungkook panted out. “Always wanted you in my bed.” He pressed his head into the armchair, shutting his eyes. “Couldn’t figure out how to convince you, couldn’t figure out how to tell you that I wanted you so very much.”

You tightened your throat around him and he dug his nails into your scalp, breathing shallow and tight.

“Gonna cum, noona, fuck, gonna cum down that pretty throat of yours.”

Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, his orgasm filling your mouth, coating your tongue, slipping down your throat. You gulped and he yelped at the sensitivity, whimpering as you softly lapped at the head, cleaning him off. Drinking it all, intoxicated with it, so satisfied swallowing it all.

Oh, how you loved sex.

You slowly removed your mouth crawling back up, no longer aware of your obligations to Taehyung, only interested in brushing Jungkook’s hair aside and kissing him deep, moaning as his tongue forced into your mouth, tasting himself. His hand slipped back into your folds and three fingers deep into you, fucking you. You whined into his mouth, telling him how good he was, telling him how good he felt inside you, telling him you how much you wanted his cock, his beautiful, thick cock jammed all the way inside you.

The door lock clicked and neither of you heard anything.

“Ah, I managed to hitch a ride with Jim– WHAT THE FUCK?”

Taehyung’s deep voice boomed throughout the apartment and you were still making out with Jungkook’s face as his fingers thrust into your slopping wet pussy, spreading you out. You whimpered as Jungkook broke the kiss, pushing you against his body as Taehyung slammed the door and marched in, kicking off his shoes carelessly.

“Fucking shit, why are you like this, fucking everything in your sight, you absolute–”

You turned your head, somewhat ashamed, feeling somewhat sorry – but not that sorry, because Jungkook’s fingers were still inside you. Taehyung’s strong features were twisted in annoyance, but he wasn’t looking at you.

He was scowling at Jungkook.

“I told you,” Taehyung said sharply, sweeping his lush fur coat back to reveal his black turtleneck and black slacks, pointing an accusing finger at Jungkook. “Not to get her started, because she is a horny seductress.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Excuse me?”

Taehyung ticked his head, looking down at you. “Am I wrong?”

You pouted. “Well, no.”

“And,” he added, directing his attention at you. “Why would you not ask me to fuck first? I’ve seen you naked hundreds of times!”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “Hundreds?”

Taehyung ignored him, leaning down and taking your chin. Brown eyes a mix of angry and amused, observing your lust. “I am offended that I respected you and you’re sitting in my roommate’s lap instead of mine.” His breath seemed like alcohol.

Your lips parted, heart beating fast. “S-sorry, Tae… You’re just always dragging me out of weird stuff that I thought you were disgusted by me…”

Taehyung brought his face close to you. You loved his voice. So deep, so intense, so heavy. It seemed to shake your soul with bass.

“I’ve wanted you on my dick the second I saw you.”

And then he kissed you, hard and full, as Jungkook’s fingers began to move inside you once again.

-

part ii: kth x you x jjk

--

masterpost

[evanstanhoney]

Drunk. //Badboy!Shawn

a/n: this has been in my drafts for well over a year lol i hope you guys like it. 

⚠️warnings: angst with some fluff if you squint 

pairing: badboy!shawn x reader

word count: 2.3k 

“Honey…” Shawn slurs into the phone and your heart nearly breaks. 

 Your heart stops at the sound of his voice. The last time you’d heard it, it was laced with venom saying words that cut through you like knives. 

 “Just leave.” 

 “I don’t want to see you.” 

 “I don’t want you here.” 

But now you could hear something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but it put you on edge. The thought crossed your mind to not say a word, in hopes that he’d hang up. Or maybe you’d hang up first and pretend you’d never gotten the call in the first place but you were never one to go with your gut, if you had you wouldn’t even be in the position you are in now. 

 “Shawn...” 

 “How  - what are you doing right now?” He mumbles into the phone. You hadn’t a clue how many drinks he’s had, but if he’s calling you then you know it must have been a rough night. 

 “Shawn where are you?” you asked. Why you were concerned, you couldn’t figure out, but the idea of him being in as bad of shape as he was wandering around or somewhere where he could get himself into trouble worried you.  

 “I’m- I’m home. But I miss you.” 

 “Shawn go to sleep.”

 “No. Not without you. I can’t without you, it’s too hard.” He whines petulantly.

 “Just - can you drink some water? Can you do that for me?” 

 “Can you come here?” 

 “Shawn I can’t.” 

 “Sure you can. You just don’t want to. Because I’m bad. I’m a bad person” 

 Of course, you want to go to him. You want to go to his place cuddle him up and nurse him back to sobriety, but it's a terrible idea for the both of you. The back and forth between you needed to stop, and since it seemed as though he was incapable of thinking of anyone other than himself you were going to have to be the one to their foot down. You couldn’t see him. If you did then you’d be dragged back into the cycle.  

 “You’re not bad Shawn.” 

 “Yes, I am. If I wasn’t then you’d be here right now. But you’re not.” there's a long silence between the two of you before you barely make out a whisper, “You’re so far away.” 

 “Shawn. You’re very drunk.” you sigh. You kept telling yourself that he didn’t mean it, no matter how much he was tugging at your heartstrings, none of it meant anything. He was drunk and for some reason thought that it was a good idea to call you but none of this meant anything. He wouldn’t even remember in the morning and he’d go back to pushing you away….until he wants you again. 

 “I am. I also miss you. Anything else you want to point out?” he hisses into the phone, and he immediately regrets it rushing with apologies, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please don’t hang up. I didn’t mean that.” 

 “I’m not going to hang up.” You sigh rubbing at your temple. 

 Why were you still entertaining this? All you had to do was hit the little red button on your phone and he would go away. Just like he wanted. But here you are. 

 “I’m sorry for what I said.” He 

 “I know you are.” 

 “I mean it.” 

 “I know you do bub,” The nickname slips out, and you flinch and you tense up biting your lip. 

 There’s a long pause on the other end and for a moment you think he hung up until you hear him sigh into the phone, “Can you come over. Please.” he asks suddenly a little soberer. 

 You pull your phone away from your ear looking at the time, it’s late but it’s not terribly late, and no matter how much you wanted to pretend like he no longer had an effect on you, there was no point in lying to yourself. 

 “Yeah, okay.” 

 “Really?” He quips, voice a little lighter. 

 “Yeah. I’ll be over in twenty.” 

  …..…..

You’re standing on his doorstep for about a minute, reminding yourself that at any time you can leave. You could turn around get back in your car and go home and forget all about Shawn Mendes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do you. Hesitantly you raise your fist up knocking on the door lightly hoping not to wake the rest of his roommates. There’s a little bit of clattering before Shawn’s clumsily opening the door for you, leaning against the frame with a dopey grin on his face. 

 “You’re here.” 

 “I told you I’d be didn’t I.,” you say giving him a sad smile. He was in bad shape. Hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, with dark circles underneath, and a fresh cut on his cheek. You raise your hand up, turning his head to the side to get a better look at the wound “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

 You take his hand, and he follows behind you as you make your way to his bedroom. You set him down on his bed, and he plops down his hands going straight to your waist pulling you in close as you stand in between his legs. You run your fingers through his hair, and he leans into your touch letting out a contented sigh. “I’ll be right back,” you say pulling yourself away from him. 

 You head into the bathroom, rummaging through his bathroom cabinet trying to find the supplies needed to clean up his face, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.  You didn’t look much better than him, your hair just as a mess, eyes just as bloodshot, and the same pained look behind your eyes. 

 What were you doing? What is it about this boy that’s got you running to him at all hours of the night to take care of him? Didn’t you deserve better than this? 

 You come back into the room and see him laying down on the bed. 

 “Up for a second, please,” you say tapping his knee. He lets out a little groan but follows your instructions, “It’s going to sting a little.” you warn beginning to clean him up. Any other night you would have asked him what he’d gotten himself into, who he’d pissed off but it would probably only end with a fight, so you didn’t. 

“Thank you,” he whispers to you, and you just nod your head knawing at your lip. “I really am sorry.” 

 “You don’t have to apologize. Let’s just get you in bed, yeah?”  you reply, almost robotically. This is your routine, you’ve done it all before. The drunken apologies and you just have to smile and nod and wait for him to sober up, just for him to be his normal emotionally unavailable self in the morning. 

 You lean down and help him take off his boots and once you do he stands stipping down to his boxers, and it's not that it’s something you haven't seen before, but now it felt like an invasion of privacy. Like you’ve lost the right to see one other in such away. You catch yourself staring and decide it’s time for some hangover prep. So you go down to the kitchen, getting a glass of water and some crackers, and finding some pain killers to set next to his bed. 

 “You’re all set. I think I should go.” 

 “No,” He complains from where he’s layed in bed, “stay with me.” 

 “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Shawn.” 

 “I know it’s not, and I know I don’t deserve it. But please stay.” He asks suddenly a lot more sober than he’d been since you walked in. And it’s embarrassing just how easy it was for you to change your mind. 

 “Okay.” 

 He pulls his covers to the side, allowing you to scoot in next to him. You lay back against the pillows, and Shawn is quick to take comfort in you, laying his head on your chest. It throws you off how comfortable he is wrapping himself around you, and you hesitate for a movement before you sink into the pillows wrapping your arms around him in return.  

…..…..

The sun peaking through the blinds is what wakes you the next morning. You had almost forgotten where you were as if the events of the night before never happened. But soon the familiar scent of Shawn’s cologne filled your senses and there was no denying where you were. Your stomach did somersaults at the realization, but as you turned over finding Shawn's side of the bed empty you started the think of an escape plan. But as you went through it all in your head, something came over you and decided not to run. Running is what’s gotten you in this situation in the first place. You needed to face him, to deal with whatever mess is to come. 

So you got yourself relatively presentable and made your way out of the bedroom to find Shawn’s shirtless back to you over the stove. You take a seat at the island and he doesn’t seem to notice you, too focused on what he’s doing so you awkwardly cleared your throat hoping that it’d do the trick, and it does. 

“Morning,” he says with a small smile, before turning back around plating a pancake. 

“Good morning.”

“I figured I’d make you breakfast. As a thank you, I don’t remember much about last night but, um….I feel like an apology is in order.” 

“Shawn- no it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry you came all the way over here. And you definitely didn’t need to spend the night so - thanks.” 

“It’s no big deal Shawn really.” He doesn’t argue with you anymore, just gives you a sad smile, and shakes his head fondly. “What?” 

“You’re just always so self-less. I will never understand you.” 

“I’m not self-less.” you scoff shaking your head. 

“Yes you are,” he says firmly. “The last time I saw you….” 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” 

“Yes, we do. Because the last time we spoke I said some awful, vile things.” 

“Shawn really it’s -” 

“No! No it’s not fine.” he snaps, before letting out a deep breath, “Why do you do that? Why do you keep making excuses for me?” 

“I don’t - I don’t know.” 

“I was awful to you. I said awful things and then I call you, blackout drunk and you come over. Not only that, but you spend the night when I ask, and you want to tell me that you’re selfless.” 

“I just don’t want you to hurt Shawn that’s all.” 

“Even after everything, I put you through.” 

“Yeah. Even after everything. I wish I didn’t care so much, believe me, my life would be much easier, but I can’t help it.” 

He looks at you with sad eyes and sets a plate down in front of you with pancakes and some bacon. He comes around the counter and takes a seat next to you, 

“You’re not eating?” you ask 

“Nah, I’m not hungry. Just wanted to do something for you,” he says through a sad smile. “Go ahead, eat.” he encourages, and you pick up your fork and dig in.  

You eat in relative silence for a few moments unsure of what to say next. In all your time together, whatever your relationship was, Shawn seldom did anything like this for you. He would do things for you sure, but they always ended up leading to him asking for a favor, and it always felt like he was making a deal rather than trying to do something nice. So you sat and waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to say something to ruin the nice gesture. 

But it doesn’t come. He lets you finish your food in peace, and then when you finish, he cleans up for you. 

“I should probably get going.”

There was a flash of disappointment on Shawn’s face but he knew better. He knew what this was for you and he knew he’d be stupid to think that you’d see it anything other than a mistake. 

“Yeah- yeah. Of course.”

You go to collect your things that you’d haphazardly dropped onto the small living room couch the night before, but Shawn stops you. 

“Actually, wait.” you look up at him and it’s like the first time you ever were together alone all over again. You were nervous, heart pounding in your chest butterflies in your stomach. You wanted to run, but you also needed to hear what he had to say. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Shawn.” 

“Not without you hearing this. I just - I want to fix this. I know I don’t deserve it. I know that I’m a piece of shit and I put you through hell-”

“You did.” 

“Yeah. I did. And words can’t describe how sorry I am for it. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t.” 

“No, you can’t.” 

“But,” he takes a step closer to you taking your hands in his and your heart rate picks up, “I can do everything I can to make it up to you.” He says quietly, “If you let me. Please.” 

Everything in you is screaming ‘NO!’. But the heart wants what the heart wants, or so they say. 

“Okay.” 

Shawns eyes lit up, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had to have been dreaming. Everything he’s ever wanted, a second chance with you, was just granted just like that? It couldn’t be. “Okay?” 

“Yeah. You can make it up to me. But Shawn, you fuck up and I’m gone.” 

“Yes. I - okay. I won’t fuck up. I promise. “ 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.". 

 shawn masterlist // chris evans masterlist // tell me what you think? // requests? // wattpad // ao3

[artistsfuneral]

Your Posture!

It was one of those comfortable summer nights, when the unthinkable happened.

They were in northern Redania, somewhere over Yspaden along the coast in a tavern. Geralt had just come back from a successful hunt and was greeted by a drunk mass of people, that had spend the past days emptying their coin pouches for Dandelion. One of the locals even had been brave enough to ask the witcher for a round of Gwent. Dandelion was halfway sprawled across Geralt, one leg on the table, the other across the witcher's thighs, one arm holding a tankard of ale, the other wrapped around Geralt's shoulders. He was looking at Geralt's cards, mumbling unhelpful advice, that the witcher promptly ignored.

When the door opened, Geralt's eyes darted upwards for a second, but at the sight of an older woman in travelers clothes, he quickly went back to his game. Dandelion was trying to make him place his Vesemir card (an absolutely stupid move) when a familiar scent caught Geralt's nose. He opened his mouth without looking up and took in a slow, deep breath. The air around him smelled like... a tavern. Sweat, ale, a bit of piss and puke and a lot of drunken people. Then the tiniest hint of lavender and honey made itself know and Geralt's eyebrows knit together. “Didn't you run out of lavender soap, Dandelion?” he asked, burying his nose in the troubadour's blond hair, but underneath the thin layer of sweat and tavern, Dandelion smelled like honey and the nearly scentless soap, Geralt used. Dandelion blinked at him in confusion, “Yes, why are you asking?” Waiting for Geralt's answer, the man took a  gulp of his ale.

“Julian, your posture!” Never in his life had Geralt heard a voice sounding so offended. Dandelion, apparently shared his thought, because he quickly spit out the ale, spraying it across the room and thankfully not at their cards. With huge eyes the bard turned around, his voice breaking as he nearly shouted, “Mother?!”

Oh.

The scent of lavender and honey rose up in Geralt's nose. It was an expensive soap, but even after all these years Dandelion insisted on using it, because it 'reminded him of home'.  Geralt realized then and there, what exactly that meant. The Viscountess de Lettenhove stood in front of them. In a tavern in upper Redania. While her son was sprawled over the lap of a witcher.

Geralt had never seen Dandelion sit up straight so quickly, not even for Queen Calanthe. Within seconds, the bard was neatly sitting on his own chair, feet on the ground, hands in his lap, back straight and shoulders pushed back. His face though was still filled with utter confusion and a bit of terror. Geralt slowly sat up in his own chair and with a nod of his head, the man he had played with collected his cards and hurried away. “Mother, what are you doing here?”

The Viscountess huffed out a disappointed breath. “Is this how you greet me, Julian? Have you lost all your manners on your travels?”

“Apologizes, mother, it is a pleasure to see you well. But what on earth are you doing here?” He repeated his question, pushing back a strand of his long hair. The Viscountess looked about ready to scream, but she didn't, eying Geralt disparaging. “I am here for your blessing, Julian. I intend to remarry and need my son's signature for it”, as she spoke she pulled out a letter and quillfeather. Dandelion's eyes immediately darted over the papers, reading much quicker than Geralt ever could. “That is great mother,” he spoke and flipped the page, “but couldn't Nikolei have signed this?”

“Your younger brother is simply your placeholder, Julian. He has no right in decision making when it comes to our name and bloodline.”

“Right, right. Rules and all that. So, who is the lucky man that can warm my mother's ice-cold heart?”

The Viscountess scoffed and raised her nose the tiniest bit, Dandelion gave her an ugly grin.

“If you must know, it is the Baron of Gustfields.”

Dandelion's whole body twitched, “VALDO MARX?!”

---

lol this has been in my head for days, idkw

@wherethewordsare @jaskierswolf

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I am posting at not my normal time at ALL, but I really wanted to get this chapter out so I can work on my favorite chapter so far lol (month five is boutta be LIT) if the tags aren’t working i’ll fix them tomorrow they are acting weird rn. 

Thx, for the patience. Love y'all

extra chapter warning: sexual harassment, nsfw..ish

HnM 💕

Month 1, Month 2, Month 4

--MONTH 3--

It was a Friday night about two months ago when Katsuki Bakugou had found himself on the second floor of Club 52—or “the booty room”—as it’s so brusquely known.

But he sure as hell didn’t fucking belong here-- Surrounded by drunken idiots when he had to stay alert and keep his mind sharp-- groped on by inebriated/drugged up women who he would simply growl at in return-- drenched in the germy sweat of the fucking extras around him when he could be at home in his clean bed thinking about how to improve himself tomorrow.

Honestly. How in the flying fuck did he let those three walking hairstyles talk him into coming to this shit show?

The driving beat of the music dancing within his chest was his only saving grace, its constant booming throwing him into a state of familiar comfort as he watched the colorful lights burst around him. He had to admit… they were nice…

No!

Fuck that! He still didn’t belong here, dammit! His roommates, Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest, had all three nagged, and nagged, and nagged him to come here the entire week.

At their begging, Bakugou quite frankly wished that he had lost even more of his hearing than he already had from his quirk. Maybe he could find one of his old drumsticks and jam it into his head—or up those idiots’ asses, “Ahh! I’LL GO! JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” It was the only way to keep him from losing his job as a hero and committing a triple homicide. 

So yeah, that’s how he ended up in the booty room—and he wasn’t gonna gratify those damn idiots for even a second by enjoying just an ounce of the hellscape.  

“You’re not drinking, huh?”

A sudden inquiry snapped the man out of his thoughts, and he found himself whipping his head around to face the feminine voice that had cut through the loud room. As soon as his eyes encountered yours, Bakugou felt his jaw drop slightly at the sight.

But then he quickly noticed the way that your eyes flickered down to his mouth, and the mocking way that your lips began curving up into a smirk at his display. He wanted to kiss knock that smug look clean off your pretty face. He immediately clenched his jaw back shut and hardened his traitor of an expression so that no more slip-ups could be had.

The two of you sized each other up for a moment before you slickly glanced over your shoulder with a nod, “So I am guessing those belong to you, then?” you motioned toward Mayonnaise, Ketchup and Mustard—all three of Bakugou’s roommate idiots making a theatrical, display in the middle of the dance floor.

Kirishima—who had long taken his shirt off by this point-- noticed Bakugou’s disapproving gaze and attempted a wave back, only to lean into a drunken stumble.

Bakugou clicked his tongue, snapping his regard from the (flat out embarrassing) show “I’m not anyone’s damn babysitter. They’re grown men. They can fucking handle themselves!”

“Good… I’d like to have you to myself for a while,” you turned to the bar-tending counter and beckoned for two drinks.

Bakugou eyed how the man behind the counter ingested you. He was a lion looking for his prey’s weakness and you didn’t even seem to notice—or care. He glared at the man, subconsciously taking a step toward you to speak as the bartender handed you your drink, “For what?” Bakugou asked you flatly. He didn’t even know why the hell he was entertaining this.

You simply shrugged, throwing your eyes up as innocently as you could with the contrarily wicked smirk that befell your face, “To… talk.”

“Yeah right. You’ve got some freak look in your eye. You want something else.”

“Well, hell yeah! Have you seen yourself?” you laughed and Bakugou couldn’t tell whether the stutter in his chest was from your utter bluntness, or from the melody of your happiness, “Anyway, I wont waste your time—or mine. Come find me if you want to…” you trailed off as you handed him the second drink in your hands. You had to bite your lip from smiling too hard, “…Talk. Ba-Bye~.”

As soon as you were the short ear distance away and faded into the dense crowd, the bartender gave a low whistle, “She was fucking fit as hell. God, the things I would do to her!” Bakugou felt his face twitch suddenly as the man continued his rant, “She’d never be able to walk that pretty little walk ever again. Yo, let’s hope she’ll still be here by the time I get off!” he chuckled but Bakugou didn’t see any thing fucking funny about what the bastard said. He might live in what is effectively a hero’s version of a frat house, but still, he never understood “locker room talk.”

Bakugou angrily downed the entire drink in his tight grip in one long pull before slamming it back onto the counter forcefully. His red eyes burned holes through the bartender’s fearful ones—the cup breaking apart under his palm, “She won’t be. Keep your dirty eyes off her, you bastard,” Bakugou didn’t even allow the man an opportunity to rebuttal as he stormed away, his fiery glare set intently on one thing only—or one person only…

That night Bakugou watched intently as the ceiling above him teetered and danced for a moment—sinking into the deep feeling of numbness that his intoxicated mind had succumbed to after about his fourth drink. He wasn’t exactly used to this feeling—this caving in on himself and sense of absolute relaxation as he melted into his bed.

Sinking.

              ...Sinking.

Wait, was his bed really sinking? His eyebrows furrowed into a state of confusion before he heard a sigh coming from next to him. Things finally clicked into place in his slowed mind.

Oh yeah. That’s right…

He would never get used to having someone else in his bed, probably.

Bakugou turned to where you were imprinting yourself down onto his mattress. You laughed at his stern expression, extending your arm to caress the side of his face, “God, your face is s’ intense like that. It gives me chills,” your thumb danced across the permanent furrow of his eyebrow. There had to be a magnet underneath his skin somewhere right about there that kept the brows in a constant state of attraction.

He snapped his face away from you as the magnet’s strength intensified and twisted his expression even deeper into anger, “Heh?” Goddamn, you were a fucking difficult girl to read for as blunt as you were.

You march up to him in the club like you own the damn place and send him heart eyes and flirtatious body signals, just to stone cold walk away like he never even existed? You proclaim that you want to fuck him, yet made him dance with you for almost an hour before you lead him out?? You let him fuck you in thirty different directions, just to call him out for looking “intense?!!” His friends (if you could fucking call them that) always said that he had an ugly mug, the jealous bastards, but why would a girl he slept with--

“You’re jus’ beautiful is all,” you faintly slurred, instantly hushing any of his thoughts and softening his expression, “People tell me all the time ‘You’re a pretty girl! You should smile more, but why th’ hell should I go around smilin’ for people who don’ deserve it? If they don’ like my resting state, then—”

“Then they can fuck themselves.”

“Yeah,” you looked up at him with a lazy smile. To a sober mind there was no doubt that your expression was an obviously drunken happiness, but to Bakugou’s in that moment—he couldn’t help but think that maybe there was something deeper behind that smile. You giggled, “They can fuck themselves,” you agreed more heartedly-- leaning into Bakugou and rolling him onto his back before snaking your way on top of him. You planted a trail of wet kisses up his neck and finished by making a small bite on his jaw “And maybe you can fuck me,”

Your warm breath on his sensitive neckline made him shiver underneath his skin, but he prayed that you couldn’t feel it. He scoffed to cover the pathetic display, “Again?”

You laughed before planting even more smiling kisses all over him—pressing your body even further into his with each one, “and again. and again. and again…”

“Pervert.” Bakugou tried to grab you by your hips to keep you from grinding into him even further—or at least that was what he intended to do; however, instead he ended up using them to guide your rhythm in rubbing against him.

You laughed again as you sat up on top of him and pressed your hands to his chest—your hips far from slowing down or stopping, “Maybe so, but can y’ really blame me? I have this guy in bed with me who isn’t even tryin’ to make me smile, but I have been fucking cheesin’ it up all night with ‘em.”

Bakugou didn’t even try to fight the growing smile on his face. It really was damn corny and pathetic--whatever this was between the two of you. But it felt so… so fucking right to him.

Still, he was going to tease you-- otherwise he wouldn't be him, “Well, I have this girl in bed with me who won’t stop smiling and it’s really fucking starting to creep me the hell out,” he suddenly flipped you onto the bed and mounted himself on top of you before placing his own assault of kisses on your body. His face only reemerging to take in your stupid, corny, beautiful smile for a long second. 

You were absolutely stunning in every respect of the word.

Yet--

Two months later, the same face that now stood in front of him on the platform of the train station was far from smiling—honestly neither was he. He was pissed the hell off. You didn’t even recognize him until just now?? Was he really so fucking immemorable?

You backed away from the man who had just saved you from falling to the tracks. You took him in one final time as the two of you sized each other up, “I don’t even know what to start…”

Bakugou’s face contorted in such anger that it could have been mistaken for disgust, “How about you start by giving me some fucking answers!” he screamed, causing your heart to drop and your stomach to lurch. The two organs effectively were trying to switch places.

Oh fuck. He knew?

“T-to what…?” You trailed off, but you had a feeling what he was going to say next. He was gonna chew you out about the damn parasite growing in your uterus, but you had no idea how he could have known about that! He shouldn't know that!

Deku didn’t tell... He didn’t! ...Did he?? Your heart raced and assaulted your rib-cage with an armada of thrums.

“Why did you sneak out that morning, huh!?” as soon as the words flew out of his mouth, you paused—your mind not quite able to comprehend his grievance, “I was just some sex toy for you? That it??” When he finished yelling and glared at you with expectancy burning within his red irises, you found yourself tilting your head a bit in astonishment and confusion.

Your heart had dropped, but you couldn't tell if it was from relief or repugnance. 

That? That was the question he needed answers to?

In the grand scheme of the fuckery on hand, his damaged ego was literally not your problem. You crossed your arms as you stretched your neck toward him, “Because it was supposed to be a club hump and dump! So yeah! We were just sex toys! That was kinda the whole fucking point!” Note the fucking emphasis on ‘supposed to be’! Ugh!

A tinge of underlying hurt quickly flashed across the blond’s stern face. You gave a short, sharp sigh in exasperation as you laid your forehead in one of your palms, “Look, I am not exactly here to cater to your wounded pride. Sorry that you caught feelings for me, but I wasn’t exactly obligated to fix you breakfast that day,” the tired, emotional remarks flew out much faster than you could filter them, but you still felt a twinge of remorse as soon as they hit the air.

The man in front of your face look completely stunned as if you just slapped him across the cheek with your words. It actually seemed pretty unnatural on his expression—like a rare, endangered species-- something not many have seen. Soon enough, however, as the dust of your words fell his expression settled back into a more natural state of fury, “You’re fucking right,” he grunted before turning to exit up the stairs of the subway, “I’m not obligated to listen to this horseshit either.”

Oh fuck. What have you done?

You knew that you had laid it on pretty thick, but the emotions you felt were just so damn overwhelming, “Kacchan… I…!” Why couldn’t you have said something different? Nicer maybe?

Whether you liked it or not, your lives were now tied together and this was not a good first impression—or uh-- second impression technically-- whatever! “I promise you’re gonna want to hear the end of this.” you called to his retreating form.

Bakugou’s face shriveled even further, stretching its extent of maximum disgust. Hearing that name come out of your mouth left his stomach feeling ill, “I promise you, I don’t give a fuck”

You slapped your arms at your side as you finally halted in your attempt to get him to stop walking away. Fuck it. You were about to completely call his bluff because you definitely weren’t about to chase him. You were much too tired and emotional for this shit! You just wanted to get home and sleep these random-ass, foreign emotions away, “I’m pregnant.” you simply exclaimed.

Bakugou froze.

In that moment, it was as if the entire world around him had iced over as he replayed your words in his head over and over again. He couldn't have heard you right, “What?” 

The man felt every fiber of his being stiffen. So much so that he couldn’t even bring himself to turn around and face you. In your silence was his answer loud and clear, “How… how the fuck do I know it’s mine?” he murmured, still unable to turn towards you—he didn’t want you to see the raw emotion that his face probably held in that moment.  

You barely even heard him, but the weight of his words was heavy enough to slam down on your ears and cause a burning reaction from you “What?!”

Your shriek finally prompted him to whip himself around, and you almost wish that he didn’t. The mangled mess of feelings transcribed on his face left his cheeks flushed a furious shade of red as he shouted at you,  “You like one-night stands so much—how do you know it’s mine?” With a horrified expression, you glanced around you for a moment to the other people in the subway, who immediately adverted their gazes.

“Hell, You’ve been hanging around that bastard, Deku. How do I know it’s not his?” You looked back to Bakugou with a choked ‘Wow!’ that could be interpreted as “Are you fucking kidding me right fucking now??” These strangers were getting one hell of a show, too.

You stormed up to him to keep him from shouting your all of your dirty laundry into the air, “Deku and I aren’t—” You stopped yourself. Would any fucking thing you said to this man make a difference? He didn’t know you from fucking Adam-- or from fucking Adam. You groaned in annoyance, “Look! I know that it’s yours because you're the only idiot I have slept with in months! An idiot who doesn’t know how to use a goddamn condom apparently!” you half whispered to him as your spectators began eyeing you again. You flipped them off as Bakugou continued,

“I’m the idiot?! Well if you could ACTUALLY FUCKING REMEMBER that night then you would know that we did use condoms the first three times! They ran out and you told me to keep going,” He screamed—by this point you’d given up hope of containing your melodrama as he continued loudly, “What idiot says that unless they are on birth control or something?!”

You throw your face in your hands with a shriek of a sigh before looking back up to his furious face “Here’s the deal,” you decided to completely ignore his comment, becoming tired of this theatrical display of emotions spewing from him,  “I can’t spontaneously conjure up some proof that this-- this thing is yours but I assure you it fucking is. But hey!! If you don’t want to stick around, I am not the type of person to make you. I can deal with this myself,” his face fell a bit as you swiftly turned yourself around to make your exit, but you didn’t make it far before you felt a heavy hand grab you by the wrist.

“Let’s say it is mine...,” Bakugou offered flatly, “You don’t think I can handle it” his daring tone left your mind whirling. This wast a fucking wrestling match or even one of his villain attacks! He continued, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna let my kid grow up without me. Give me your fucking number,” He easily snatched your phone from your front pocket with a slight protest coming from you, but ultimately, you really were tired as hell and just wanted this day to be over with al-fucking-ready. You sighed as he put his number in your phone—your mind briefly wandering why you didn’t put a password on the damn thing.

In a short instant, he shoved your device back to you and promptly turned on a heel. Only acknowledging you once more to tell you to “Stay off of the fucking train tracks,” before he stiffly marched away. Good riddance. 

You couldn’t even blame the spectators anymore. This was a mess. This was a downright, melodramatic, teen drama on CW disaster. This was… this was your life now.

Fuck…

“Oooh... no smiles today, huh?”

About a week later you found yourself walking up the stairs to a modern mansion with stupid windows for walls. A true sign of pretentiousness and obvious lack of shame. This house was a display for all to see... kinda like your argument with that Bakugou last week. 

You shook this thought out of your mind and put your ‘work cap’ back on. You were on your way to get some test shots in for the week with your new hair cut that the agency had forced on you recently.

Instead of throwing her a “What’s there to smile for?” like you wanted to, you threw her a “This better?” and forced a small smile at the girl, Dina, who had traveled along with you to get her test shots done today as well. Usually for these kinds of things, you would be alone as you traveled to the photographer’s house, but it was always nice to have someone come with you so you weren’t complaining—well-- not about her company at least.

There truly was nothing to smile for recently. You were pregnant with a raging, quirkcist asshole’s child, said asshole won’t answer any of your damn texts or calls that aren’t directly related to the prenatal appointment that you two have later today, Deku hasn’t been able to hang out with you as much because of his work, and as trivial as this may seem, you looked in the mirror today to saw a completely different person.

You were quite used to your agency drastically changing your hair, but that, along side the obvious rounding of your face and the speckles of hormone induced facial topography growing on your skin, led you to a slight identity crisis. The girl in the reflection was a sloppy second to who you used to be and you hated it-- you hated sharing this body.

“Trouble in paradise with Deku, Y/N?” her tone had a hint of worry in it as she rung on the doorbell to the modern house. You could only give her a slight shrug as the bell sung out,

“I’m fine. Really.” you lied. 

“Hello, hello!” The photographer’s voice loudly blared out before the door could even fully open to reveal him. He gave you a shocked glance, “What a pretty lady—pretty ladies!” he corrected as he stepped aside and invited you in with the swing of his arm. You rolled your eyes as he turned his back to walk through the house. He looked like the textbook definition of a douchebag. 

Fuck not judging a book by it’s cover. If it walks like a duck. Talks like a duck. Then it’s probably a misogynistic asshole who only got into photography to get away with his sick urge to take photos of unfamiliar women.

“Okay ladies, I just want to preface by saying that you can feel comfortable around me, alright? I think of all my models as a family,” Dina stiffened into a board as he came over and rested his hand on her hip. She forced her lips into a fine line that could resemble a smile as he firmly patted her, “This shouldn’t take too long-- only about five to six hours, ‘kay?”

Your face scrunched up, but you just wanted to get this day over with so you could go to that stupid appointment and wouldn’t have to deal with “Cockugou” for another few weeks. Throughout the next few hours, the photographer actually wasn’t too bad. He was for sure creepy, but you noticed that he wasn’t so bold with you as he had been with Dina earlier. Of course there were little off hand comments like, “You are doing sexy.” instead of “you are doing great.” And he would refer to both you and Dina as “baby” is a husky, drawn out tone—like he was moaning, but besides that he was actually being pretty calm.

Until he wasn’t.

“Okay! Now take your tops and bra off,” both you and Dina paused as the camera flashed once more. As the two of you threw each other a wary glance the photographer spoke up again, “Trust me, I have a vision. You’re gonna love it!”

“I- I just don’t feel comfortable with that,” Dinah spoke up feebly. She looked to you for support, so you nodded before she returned her gaze to him, “Do you think… maybe we could do something else?”

The photographer sighed and threw his nose into pinched fingers as if you all had offended him, “Look honey, you’re not that photogenic. I am having to bust my ass off not to capture that cellulite on the back of your thighs, so when I tell you to do something, it’s for a reason.”

You glanced over to Dina with a horrified expression. You noticed that her hands were clenched at her sides and shook ever so slightly after she subconsciously rubbed the back of her thighs-- you also noticed a prominent thigh gap in between the two tiny appendages. You shot your stern glare back over to the photographer.

He sighed again—this time even harder than before, “Take five!” he frustratedly pulled out a box of cigarettes and stormed over to his patio outside—the glass door slamming shut behind him.

You walked over to Dinah and hesitantly found your hands drifting toward her. You were never really good at cheering people up. Hell, you had to rely on alcohol to cheer you up for the vast majority of you adult (and a little bit of your pre-adult) life. Still, you took her shaking hands in your own. “Hey. Don’t listen to that asshole. If you’re not comfortable...”

“I have done nude shots before, but this just feels… wrong. Doesn’t it?” she refused to look you in the eyes as hers glazed over in a thick sheet of shame. She was right. Nude shots were nothing new at all. In fact, some of your best shots had been done in the nude—they had the potential to be true art, but this? This was wrong.

She shook her head,“But I just… I don’t want to be unprofessional.”

“We can walk out right now. I’ll call Ainu and tell her what’s up I am sure she’ll understand,” as soon as you began walking to gather up some of your belongings, her voice spoke up once more—this time much colder than before,

“Maybe for you. Y/N, you could get away with murder at our agency-- you know that, right? You’re the one who bought Ainu her ticket to the top-- her golden child,” she sneered. You threw your eyes toward her own—not quite comprehending if this was the same person still talking to you.

It was, but this Dina had tears growing in her eyes, “Not everyone can half-ass everything and not care…” her voice shook. The two of you just stared at each other as wild emotions filled your expressions and overflowed into the room to drown you.

The patio door clicking open snapped you out of your trance and Dina furiously began wiping her eyes clean as the photographer reemerged, “Alright pretty ladies! Who’s ready to get back into things?”

You sighed.

With a quick roll of your eyes you angrily threw your top off—not even giving the girl with you a second glance as she did the same and the two of you settled yourself into position. The atmosphere was certainly much heavier than it had been before, but the photographer obviously couldn’t read the room,

“Y/N might I say, that your tits looks wonderful! Have you gotten a job recently? I mean- they look huge!”

Okay. 

That. Was. It. You couldn’t fucking hold it back anymore, “Talk about my tits again and I’ll stab you in the neck with your own goddamn tripod,” you kept posing as if you totally hadn’t just threatened someone’s life, but the photographer fell away from his camera, shock painted on his expression. Slacking on the job. Huh, who’s the unprofessional one now?

“…S-sweetheart I—”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me!” you screamed, storming up to point a finger in his face. This surge of random emotion overwhelmed you. You had never felt this before—like you were gonna explode if you didn’t unleash it. And unleash it, you did, “The fuck is your problem?! You get some kick outta being a perverted asshole, asshole?!”

Dinah tried to come pull you back by the shoulders, “Y/N, maybe you should just calm dow—”

“No! Fuck this bastard!!” you smack her hands away as the photographer gets up and crossed his arms,

“This is so unprofessional. You women always jump to conclusions. Why cant you ever just take the compliment?”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TAKE MY FOOT UP YOUR--”

And that’s how you ended up getting sent home two hours early. You had attempted to call Deku to rant about the harsh encounter, but he was at work. You supposed that saving lives a a little bit more important than “The Dramatic Tale of a Quirkless Model” or whatever fucking CW show your life had become. Your mind briefly fleeted to calling Bakugou, but he certainly wouldn’t answer anyway. No. Fuck that.

So you decided to text Deku and cry into your pillow instead,

You:

[2:49pm]

I mean he was just such a fucking dick!

I should have actually stuck my foot up his ass but he for sure would have liked it🙄

Seriously. I don’t mind nude photos

But there is a difference between art/photography and porn

Deku:

Right!!

Well I’m glad you stood up for yourself!

You:

No! Don’t tell me tht!😫

Deku:

I am upset tha you stood up for yourself…?

You:

UGHHH

I just wish tht I had just walked out

But the other girl wouldn’t leave and I couldn’t leaver her their

There*

God

Ainu is gonna 💀me for this

Deku:

How can I help you?

I’ll find what I can on the photographer?

You:

Talk Kacchan into not going to our clinical visit.👉👈

You knew that Deku really wanted to go, and honestly you would really prefer if he did. Regardless, Deku stood up for his childhood bully like the saint he was,

Deku:

Y/N! He’s the father. he deserves to go, don’t you think?

Also!

Don’t forget Baby Notes vol 1! I wrote some questions for you to ask!

You stifled a small laugh as you eyed that stupid goddamn notebook he left on your nightstand one of the few days he stopped by your home.

You:

Grr

I can’t handle Cockugou’s moodiness right now

And I-- Oop!

Speak of the devil. He’s here.

Talk later k?💕kith!

You snatched the notebook from your nightstand and marched to your front entrance. The knocking at your door was downright disrespectful—constantly switching between pounding knocks on your door and vigorous successions of the doorbell ringing.

“Fucking. Calm. Down!” you screamed out the door before answering, revealing Bakugou’s stern gaze,

“What the hell took you so long?” he huffed, causing your face to scrunch up into an expression that mirrored his own. 

“I had to walk to the damn door, you know! I’m quirkless? No teleportation quirk here!” He only clicked his tongue at your response. You noticed the way his eyes drifted down to the notebook in your hands before they narrowed into even tighter slits.

“Let’s just fucking go, already,” he took your wrist and led you out of the house before shutting your door. You could really just knock him the hell out. Okay, maybe you couldn't, but your weak ass might just be able to get one good hit in! He deserved it, not replying to any of your attempts to reach out to him past talking about the appointment,

“Why didn’t you answer my texts all week?”

“I was busy.” he simply said, not even bothering to look you in the eye. This was the last time he spoke up for a long while. In fact, you didn't even hear his voice again until later when the two of you sat in the small, shoebox of a room in the clinic with the prenatal physician,

“This is your first appointment, right?” the doctor, was extremely old looking and your mind phased into a grim question of ‘how the hell can someone so close to death know jack about birth?’

You tried your best to push these dark thoughts out of your head as you gave him a slight answer, “Yeah…” you laid back on the crinkly paper covered recliner and lift your shirt a bit for the examination. You looked down at the small, hardly noticeable bump in your lower abdomen and internally cringed. 

“This is the father?” you knew that it didn't really matter, and that he was probably just trying to make you comfortable and spark up some small talk, but you rally didn't wanna hear it out loud. 

You couldn't bring yourself to answer, but Bakugou loudly spoke up, filling the absence of your voice, “Why the hell else would I be here, old man?” he scoffed and twisted his face away from everyone. 

You raised an eyebrow at his rudeness, but from the vast stories that Deku had told you about him, you shouldn't have been surprised. But still, it was like seeing a mythical creature in real life-- a grumpy troll under a bridge, if you will. 

The doctor gave a loud laugh at Bakugou’s remark, causing both you and him to snap your surprised gazed to the elderly man, “You’d be surprised at the shit I have seen, son. Someone brought their neighbor for the entire 39 weeks once-- the husband came in only once or twice, I think.”

You couldn't help but to laugh at this. Your doctor’s voice had a much more youthful demeanor than he had originally led on, “Oh, they were definitely fucking behind the husbands back,” you smirked.

“So Mama Bakugou,” 

And just like that your smile was completely wiped off of your face, “This is your first child right?” the doctor asked. You felt Bakugou throw you a fleeting expectant look. You assumed that it was probably because he hadn't even thought to ask you this question. The two of you really didn't know each other. Matter of a fact, this doctor, with your list of medical history in his hand, probably knew a lot more than the father of this ‘it’ inside of you. 

“L/N actually,” you corrected, “and yes, it is.” with that, Bakugou’s glare drifted back off into unconcerned and uncaring territory as he found a sudden interest in the glass container of gloves on the counter. 

“Well you look about 10 weeks along. They’ll be about the size of a strawberry right now-- almost done with your first trimester.” he trailed off as he began coating your stomach with some sticky jelly substance. 

“What??” you could have sworn that you had only met Bakugou about two months ago right? So does that mean...

“The date of conception would have actually been a little closer to about 7 or 8 weeks ago. We just count by the first day of your last period. No need to get worried about the neighbor, I don’t think, Papa Bakugou,” he winked to the blond, who only gave a scoff in return. You let out a slight sigh of relief. 

The recipe for the rest of this appointment as the doctor searched your organs for your uterus in the ultrasound included him making small talk and Bakugou ignoring it with you giving slight answers here and there,

However, finally, something really caught both of your’s attention, “I think that you guys should take time today to find your primary care physician,”

“Why not you, idiot?” Bakugou spoke up and it shocked you. You were surprised he cared about this out of everything. 

“I am thinking that I should send you to someone with a specialty in a multiple pregnancy birth.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you and Bakugou shared a brief, terrified glance at one another, “What...?” Bakugou spat.

“You see these two circles? It looks like you’ve got two buns in the oven! Congrats on the twins!,” 

T...wins...?

The world bean fading into a blur for you as he continued, “Now You are a little past getting the neural tube check, but we can get you started in on some genetic testing and counseling’s. Every thing is looking alright, but we just want to…”

The world around you moved in a blurry, choppy chain of images as your mind tried its best to comprehend the knowledge it had been given. So... not only were you carrying one parasite... but two?

You couldn't bring yourself to listen the rest of the appointment, and you had a feeling that Bakugou wasn't picking up on much else after the shocking news either. 

If you thought that commute to the hospital was quiet, the walk back to your apartment was even more so.

Taglist:  @steggy4ever​ @library-trash​ @watevermelon​ @glimmadora-ble​ @persephones24​ @dragonempress123​ @your-pri-ncess @broken-from-fandoms​ @hot-pocket01​ @tsukineho @bakugousbabydoll​ @bubbzibubbles @ikebukuro-ghoul​ @thehoneycookiecrumbs​ @katsukis-sad-angel​ @dulcetailurophile​ @yukiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @kanasakura @lonekitsune @pastel-prynce​ @mynameispurple​ @cutest-celestial-princess​ @minfani​ @aurorahoneybuns​ @galacticrosee @orokayagi​ @centerhabit​ @animefan7420 @katsukisposts   @bakugou-is-my-daddy​

[egg-emperor]

Has Eggman ever lost or misplaced his glasses?

Even though they’re so tightly secured on his nose that it interferes with the blood circulation and he's hardly seen without them, he still manages to lose and misplace them. He tries to be careful and keep them where they should be but sometimes it’s beyond his control, or he just clumsily or lazily misplaces them and regrets it later.

Because of the way he tends to fall asleep unexpectedly in places other than his bed, he can't remove his glasses before unexpectedly drifting off. When he wakes up from unplanned naps, his glasses are no longer on his nose. Sometimes it turns out they fell off and landed onto the chair, floor, desk, etc, that he fell asleep at.

He can also lose them after sleepwalking as he takes them to all kinds of random places when he's out of it. Similar happens when he gets carried away with the booze and spends the next morning struggling to find his glasses and being pissed at his earlier drunken self. He especially hates having to search while sick with a hangover!

Luckily, he can check his cameras to see if there's footage of him putting them down somewhere. As disappointed in himself as he is when he sees how he dropped or tossed them while out of it, he's just glad to find them. But the amount of cameras depends on the room and he doesn’t have many in his living quarters for privacy, so he’s not guaranteed to lose them on camera.

But those aren't the only ways he can lose them, just two of the times where he can at least say he has an excuse for it. Even when he's 100% awake, conscious, and sober, he still finds plenty of ways to lose them. Never underestimate his ability lol

Sometimes he needs to give his poor nose a break from wearing them in the day. He can do so long as the lights are dimmed and he doesn't need to see too well but he commonly misplaces or drops them around the base. And when he's relaxing in his living quarters, he hardly wears them as he doesn't need to see. He dreads losing them there because there are less cameras around!

The worst thing about losing them besides the frustration is how poor his vision is. He isn't far or near sighted, it's blurry in any range. So he rarely takes his glasses off anywhere, unless he's in a safe familiar place. Depending on his surroundings, it can be dangerous as he's vulnerable and prone to accidents. Especially if it’s dark because he never adjusts and stumbles around in confusion.

But light doesn’t help him see much better either because his eyes are light sensitive, which is part of why his glasses are darkly shaded. He feels blinded by the light and goes walking around like this all the while-

-minus holding the very glasses he’s trying to find, of course. Well, apart from the couple of times where he actually has tried looking for them while holding them! He’s very embarrassed when Orbot and Cubot point out that they’re right in his hand.

They're also amused when he can't see that they’re right in front of him, or he finds out that he's sat or lay on them and broken them again. He begs them not to laugh or share these silly stories with others. XD

Because his pince-nez glasses have no arms, it’s even harder to see or feel for them. If they’re under a blanket for example, they’ll hardly be any sort of indent to reveal that they’re under there because they're flat. It's a time he regrets choosing pince-nez glasses the most, but he wouldn't change them. (Except for 06, apparently)

But he does have plenty of experience with working through his poor vision. There are times his glasses get lost or broken at crash sites. They can crack and fall apart after battles or fly off his face during explosions. Searching for small things in piles of scrap is already difficult enough, let alone without glasses. Sometimes he never finds them and has to try to get home safely enough without them.

Even though it's most challenging and hazardous while outdoors, sometimes he chooses not to wear them. It's rare as he likes hiding his eyes and they're light sensitive but he's gone without glasses as part of a few of his many disguises. It's even harder for people to identify him because they've never seen his eyes prior and he's sure to use that to his advantage.

So even if he doesn't find his glasses for a while or they need to be repaired, he can get by without until then by feeling around for things, guessing, and taking his time. He can't trust the robots to be much help but he tries to get them to guide him too. He's good at pretending it's not so bad and he's learned to get used to over the years as his eyesight continues to worsen.

You might be thinking, why hasn't he tried to make a habit of carrying spares to save trouble? He has but he forgets to bring them around and he can lose or break them just as easily when he does! It's a neverending struggle but he's learned to accept it. Every time he loses them it's just another "here we go again" moment.

[you-can-call-me-wanda]

Better Off

Pairing: Johnny Thunders x Reader

Author’s note: Let me know if this got too sappy or serious lol. I feel like it definitely did...

You never saw it coming.

The day had been perfect. You and Johnny, your boyfriend of almost eight months, had spent the whole day together. You went out for lunch at a cute little diner, then went and took a walk through Central Park. The two of you took your time strolling through the park, soaking in the nice weather. On your way back to your apartment, you had picked up some dinner to eat while watching a movie that evening.

The whole day had been spent with the man of your dreams. He was everything you could have wanted in a partner. He was kind, and witty, and loyal. He opened doors for you and held your hand anytime he could. He laughed at your jokes and amused you with his own. He made time for you in his busy life as a musician and made you feel loved. You loved him and it was clear that he loved you just as much.

Or at least you thought he did.

When the two of you had gotten home, Johnny began to act a bit strangely. Well, strange for him. Even after eight months of being with you, Johnny sometimes still got shy and nervous around you, a fact that you found absolutely adorable. But this night, Johnny was acting more nervous than usual. You had chalked it up to being tired or stressed. He had been in the studio earlier this week working on some new material. Maybe that’s what was getting to him.

“Um (Y/N),” Johnny said, interrupting the movie.

You paused the movie and looked up at him, sitting up a little straighter.

“What’s up babe?” you asked. He seemed awful serious all of the sudden.

“Um, well, this is kind of hard to say but I think that maybe- well, I think maybe we should split up,” he said, fumbling over his words.

You stared at him waiting for him to get to the punch line of whatever joke he was playing.

Unfortunately, there was none.

He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just think it’s for the best.”

“What? Why?” You had so many questions. You needed to talk to him about this.

“I should just leave,” he said, getting up from the couch and hurriedly making his way to the door.

“No, stop,” you said, following after him. “What do you mean we should split up? What happened?”

“(Y/N) please,” he said, eyes looking glassy as he turned around to look at you again. “Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” His words came out hoarse, like he was trying to hold back tears.

What the hell could he be getting choked up about? You were the one in the middle of getting dumped.

“I just- I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” you said a bit incredulously. “Just give me a fucking reason, Johnny!”

Despite your tone, you weren’t mad at Johnny. You were just hurt. This felt like it was coming from nowhere and you were completely lost as to why this was happening. People don’t just break up with people for no reason.

“I just don’t see it working out,” he mumbled with his head low, unable to meet your eyes.

“So, we’re really done?” you asked. Your voice was hushed now, barely above a whisper. The tears that had been forming in your eyes finally began to fall down your face.

Johnny couldn’t even agree out loud. He simply nodded his head.

Not wanting him to see you cry, you turned away from him.

“Just go,” you said, wanting the exact opposite.

You wanted him to envelope you in his arms and take it all back. You wanted him to pepper your face with kisses and apologize for everything he had just said. You wanted him to stay.

But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he did as you said and made his way out through the apartment door, shutting it behind without a glance back at you or word spoken.

You fell to the floor the second the door closed, crying. You couldn’t believe what had just happened. How could you have been so stupid to think that Johnny really loved you? Clearly, you had meant nothing to him. Had you really meant nothing to him? If you had, he wouldn’t have left you, right? What were you going to do now?

You sobbed into your hands as a million questions raced through your head.

****

As it turned out, getting over Johnny was proving to be quite difficult. The first few days after the breakup were, of course, the worst. You had spent the majority of your time laying in bed with a box of tissues and eating takeout. As much as you had wanted to stop thinking about him, everything reminded you of Johnny and brought you to tears. Even when you slept, he was on your mind, filling your restless sleep with dreams of him.

Your friends were quick to pull you out of this depressive slump though. The second after you had called them and told them the news they had rushed over to your place with a bottle of booze and a trash bag to get rid of anything Johnny had left at your apartment. You stayed up for hours talking about what happened between you and him while your friends listened and tried their best to console you. They were pissed at Johnny in a way that you weren’t. Where they were more focused on him breaking your heart, you were still stuck on why. Johnny had never told you why he was ending things with you and you couldn’t stop wondering what had happened. Part of you believed that perhaps you were to blame, that you had done something to go and mess your relationship up.

For the next couple of weeks, you tried your best to move on. It was hard though. Your apartment was filled with memories of your time spent with Johnny and you were constantly reminded of him. As much as you would have liked to be angry and bitter with Johnny like your friends were, you just couldn’t feel that way towards a man who you’d loved so dearly.

It was nearly a month after the breakup that your friends finally convinced you to go out with them and have some fun.

“C’mon (Y/N), it’ll be fun,” your friend whined. “It’s been so long since you’ve gone out.”

So, you relented. It had been awhile since you’d gone out to do anything fun. Mainly your days had consisted of working, eating, and sleeping. It would be nice to get out for a change.

Your friends practically cheered when you agreed to go with them and dragged you straight to your closet to find something “more acceptable” to wear. Apparently, sweatpants and a t shirt weren’t appropriate party attire.

Once you had finished getting ready and were looking “fucking hot (Y/N), you’re going to have to ward off all the boys”, you and your friends were headed out the door and on your way to the party.

You weren’t sure whose place you were at, but you recognized a good amount of people as you took in the scene. It was dimly lit, full of people, and the music was so loud the walls were almost shaking. No doubt the cops would show up later due to a noise complaint. People were mostly lingering around, sipping a drink, and talking with the people around them.

Your eyes traveled around the room as you and your friends approached some people you knew. It was then that you spotted him. Sitting on the couch, sandwiched between to other guys, was Johnny.

One of your friends followed your gaze and spotted him as well.

“I am so sorry, (Y/N),” they said. “I didn’t know he was going to be here. We can get out of here, go home, have our own fun.”

You smiled sadly and looked away from your ex-lover and back to your friend. “It’s alright, I was bound to run into him eventually.” It was true, you and Johnny ran with the same crowd. You knew one day you’d have to face him again. “Let’s just stay. We were so excited for tonight.”

“Are you sure?” your friend asked, skeptical.

You nodded. You were done being miserable, you decided. Yeah, Johnny had broken your heart, but you needed to let that go. Tonight, you were going to have fun and forget all about the boy seated just across the room.

That was how you found yourself in the upstairs hallway, flirting with a boy you’d never met. He was cute with dark hair and dark eyes. He smelled like booze and was slightly swaying on his feet, but you weren’t too concerned about that. You had no intention of doing anything more than flirting with the young guy. Maybe you’d let him steal a drunken kiss or two, but he was mainly a distraction from Johnny who had surely spotted your presence at the party by now.

“Fuck,” the mystery boy slurred, “you’re so hot,” he commented before almost crashing into you. You caught his staggering body with your hands around his waist and moved your face to the side to avoid his attempt at kissing you.

“And you’re drunk,” you said, laughing slightly. “You need to go lay down somewhere.”

The boy nodded, his head slumped against your shoulder. You decided you’d help him into the bedroom down the hall before leaving. The party had kind of sucked anyways.

After helping the boy into the bedroom, you reentered the hallway.

“Hey,” a familiar voice sounded as you stepped out of the room.

You looked up. It was Johnny.

You forced yourself to ignore the flutter of your heart and greeted him coldly.

“Hey.”

Johnny looked nervous. His eyes darted around the hall, unable to stay trained on you for more than two seconds at a time. He fumbled with his hands as he stood there, putting them in and out of his pockets several times as if trying to figure out what to do with them.

“What do you want?” you finally asked, his silence bothering you.

He shrugged. “I just wanted to ask how you were doing is all,” he said.

You scoffed and Johnny looked surprised.

“You dumped me with no warning and no reason and now you’re gonna ask me how I’m doing?” you asked. “Go fuck yourself, Johnny.”

It seemed the anger your friends held for Johnny finally caught up to you. Johnny’s eyes were wide. He clearly had not expected that reaction from you. Part of you was happy to have caught him off guard. Again though, Johnny didn’t say anything. He just kept on staring at you.

“How do you think I’m doing Johnny?” you asked, continuing on with your rant when it became clear Johnny was not going to respond. “I’m doing awful, thanks for asking,” you said with fake cheer.

You stormed past him, ready to leave him and this awful party behind you. He reached out and caught your wrist as you walked past, stopping you from leaving.

“Let go of me,” you said through gritted teeth. He was really pissing you off now.

“Wait,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you (Y/N).

“Well, you did,” you snapped. As much as you wanted to pretend you were fine and over him, you weren’t.

Johnny sighed and let go of your wrist, shoulders slumping. “That really wasn’t my intention.”

“It wasn’t?” you asked. “Then what was your intention, huh? To make me look like an idiot? To make me feel like a goddamn fool?”

“No,” Johnny said, shaking his head earnestly. The look in his eyes reminded you of the day he had broken up with you. He was upset. He looked hurt.

“Then what?” you snapped, hands on your hips.

“I thought you’d be better off without me!” he said, nearly shouting to get his point across. “I thought you’d be better off without me, okay?”

That shut you up.

“Why would you think that?” you asked, tone considerably softer than before. You were baffled. You had no idea that Johnny had felt that way.

Johnny looked tense and he pulled at his hair in frustration before answering you.

“Because- because look at you and look at me!”

“I don’t understand-”

“(Y/N), you’re literally perfect!” he exclaimed. “You’re -you’re so good and kind and beautiful and smart and I’m- I’m not. I’m awful. I’m just some loser junkie trying to make it big. You deserve so much more. I thought I was doing you a favor. I thought you’d be happier without me.”

Johnny’s words brought tears to your eyes.

“Look,” he said, gesturing at you. “Now I’m making you cry. Again. God, (Y/N), you deserved more than me. I knew I was bringing you down and did what I thought was best. I never meant to hurt you, I swear.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, voice watery.

“You wouldn’t have let me go,” he said, looking guilty and just as upset as you.

“You’re right,” you said, nodding and trying to pull yourself back together to talk with him. “I wouldn’t have let you go. I wouldn’t have let you go because you are so wrong Johnny.”

You took his hands into yours as you went on. “Johnny, I’m not perfect, okay? I get tired and mean, I’m an awful cook, and I am definitely not as smart as you think I am. The list goes on.”

“But none of that matters to me,” Johnny said. “To me, you’re perfect.”

“That’s what I’m trying to get at,” you said. “Johnny, I love you for you. I love every part of you, flaws included. The only part of you that I don’t like is that you’re not mine anymore.”

“So, what are you saying?” he asked, looking down at your interlocked fingers, afraid of getting his hopes up.

“I’m saying I want you back in my life.”

“But-”

“Johnny, I want you in my life,” you said, silencing his argument. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, now looking deep into your eyes.

“Then trust me,” you pleaded. “I’m a better person with you by my side.”

Johnny hesitated a moment before eventually nodding and you threw your arms around his neck in joy. You pressed a loving kiss to his lips, trying your hardest to prove to him how much you loved him.

“Come home with me,” you said, arms still wrapped around him.

“Okay,” he agreed, the ghost of a smile on his face.

You kept standing there, holding him, overcome with joy at just the feeling of having him back in your arms.

“You have to let go of me first?” he joked, now fully smiling due to your affection.

“Promise me you won’t leave again,” you said, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I promise,” he said, leaning in to capture your lips in another kiss which you happily returned. “I promise.”

[colour-outside-the-liness]

Hey, I'm doing good too. Just normal amounts of stressful stuff right now. Just moved to a country I've never been to before but can't complain, things are not as hard as the last time I did this so. Thanks for asking! Yeah, I saw you posting about some pretty scary health issues before, I'm glad you came out of that alive and hope you're healthier now!

The nerve some people have! Haha I know I would be pissed if people were questioning my intelligence like that especially after a couple of drinks in haha. Though I do like taunting people when I play group games, I'll be like "don't need to try that hard guys, you're gonna lose anyway" just to mess with them or just call people sore losers if they accuse me of cheating haha (they're probably right on the accusations tho). People get real mad sometimes it's kinda funny. 😂

Omg literally laughed out loud reading this! Hahaha, how did you manage to fall over a road sign then end up in a ditch? lol omg hope you didn't get hurt too bad 😂 I was trying to downplay my drunken escapades but since you shared yours I should tell you my worst one:

I was at this summer street party at night and got drunk on something made out of tropical herbs and cachaça (which is about 48% alcohol), drank 3 and a half bottles of that like it was apple juice, made friends with a bunch of strangers in a bathroom queue (who tried to talk to me weeks later but I had no idea who they were), had to be held by my best friend while I peed (mostly missing the toilet), fell in the middle of the street and scraped my knee, threatened this boy who was helping me walk and told him not to try anything funny or I would beat him up, then dragged my friends to the beach and left them shortly after to go make out with my ex, came back with lipstick all over my mouth and chin and when my friends asked what I was doing I said I was just talking to my ex and they were like NO YOU WERE NOT, hahaha then I kissed all my girl friends on a dare and we danced under the full moon, then I told my best friend I had to puke so she took me to the ocean but I changed my mind and happened to step on a dead turtle on the way back and started crying bc of it, but last month my best friend told me it was a rock I had stepped on (I believed it was a dead turtle for 7 years!). Had the worst hangover of my life the next day. ✌️✨

Ah I'm happy you liked it! I've never listened to Six musical before but it sounds fun! I can see why you like it haha made me want to dance around my apartment 💃. And hey if liking musicals is your thing then it's great, I'm sure Hozier will understand if he's not your top artist of the year. 😋 Here's my "damie" Pinterest board if you or anyone else wants to check it out, totally recommend making one if you're a visual person like me!

https://pin.it/UcHVlkq

Oh I could talk about Dani and Jamie forever I think. I love the beast in the jungle speech too and it's so painful to watch, VP delivered that beautifully, but I have to admit I'm always a crying mess from episode 1 when older Jamie starts reciting that song about being sad while waiting for her lover to return, this show is fucking cruel I hate it and love it at the same time hahaha. Omg your mom 😂 but I mean it's truly an honor to be compared to someone like Dani, no? She's really great even if she needs a little help haha (don't we all).

Aaah you're amazing! Thank you so much, I'll read this pirate AU soon!

I used to draw a lot, really loved doing it when I was a kid as I said before, and all throughout adulthood too but I haven't done that in almost a year now bc I've got a bit of a case of burnout I guess, it just takes a lot of effort to do it when it shouldn't be like that at all. I used to do fanart too, for other fandoms. Even made one for Dani x Jamie but ended up not liking how it turned out haha. I've got a lot of respect for writers and fanfic writers also! Yall can make words make sense in really interesting and beautiful ways, build worlds so enthralling I can see them vividly in my head. Writing is such an incredibly fascinating skill to have! And I guess the most important thing is that we enjoy doing these things right? Even if we think we're not particularly good at it.

Anyway, have a lovely weekend! 👋✨

Good I'm glad you're doing great but sorry you're dealing with stressful stuff!! Hope living in a new country goes well for you I'm so jealous that you've lived in different countries I'd love to live somewhere else even if just for s few years!! Awwh thank you so much I definitely came out of it alive and am feeling so much better now thank you I mean I do some pretty ditzy things so when people say it to me it's pretty deserved sometimes, I'm secretly smart and people just don't expect it so I never mind too much haha I might have to start saying the things that you do and just taunting them over it I mean, I usually do win even when they make me answer different questions so I will definitely have to start saying things like that to them Haha I love that you're just like "yeah they're probably right in their accusations" I agree seeing how mad some people get over games and stuff is funny (it's me I'm people I hate loosing games depending on what it is and I am very competitive) So it was very dark and all we had for light was my roommates flashlight on her phone but while we were walking home a friend of ours that lived else where kept texting her to make sure we were still safe (my phone as dead at this point) so while she was texting him her flashlight was facing down and someone had moved this road sign to the footpath and it was on that sits on the floor so while I couldn't see it I walked into it and fell over it but while I feel I grabbed hold of it and flipped with it and fell in a ditch with it on top of me... I was fine and was just laid laughing while my friend looked down at me and in the most northern accent ever just said "get up you dickhead." and helped me off of the floor and then asked if I was okay... and I was so it was all good!! Haha 😂 I love this drunken story that sounds like one hell of a night and is a roller coaster from start to finish!! I'm sorry you thought you had stood on a dead turtle for 7 years though, someone really should've told you that it was just a rock!! But that sounds like my kind of night!! I love nights like that... stories that will last a life time... the only down side is the hangover... luckily I have only ever had one hang over in my life and it wasn't the morning after the road sign fiasco... I felt surprisingly good the morning after that haha 😂 It's such a good musical it's about Henry VIII wives and I just love everything to do with his wives and that musical is so much fun and actually gives a little insight to the lives the six Tudor queens had away from Henry and with him because at school we're mainly just taught about him which sucks!! I loved the Hozier song and am definitely gonna have to listen to more of his stuff!! I love musicals so much I mainly listen to musical soundtracks at the minute- usually, Legally Blonde and Six on repeat haha 😂 Ooo thank you I will definitely check out this Pinterest board thanks for sending it to me!! I could talk about them forever too... since watching Bly Manor my niece has been asking me so many questions about it and I am more than happy to talk to her about it haha!! The beast in the jungle speech just breaks my heart every time I relate to it so much and VP just delivers it so beautifully!! Oh yeah now I know at the beginning that it's older Jamie I am just a wreck the whole show is just so beautiful and heart breaking at the same time I LOVE IT!! Even though it makes me sob- I keep putting myself through it!! I mean, yeah I was happy that she said it Dani is great but it was the way she said it... my mum can be something else sometimes... she said she thought Dani was like me the first time she does the accent when she says "I've fallen quite in love with London" because I just randomly do accents a lot too but it was the way she was like "She needs help... but I like her she reminds me of you" I was just like... "Should I go get help?" I still don't know the answer to my question about if I need help or not but I mean I probably do need it You're welcome I really hope you like it!! It's a

great fic I love it!! Yeah I get that if stuff starts taking too much effort and burns you out you're not gonna wanna keep doing it so it's understandable that you stopped!! I think fan art is great and I really would love to be able to do it myself but I just don't have the skill it takes!! Awwh it's a shame you didn't like the Dani x Jamie one you did I would've loved to have seen it!! Honestly there are so many talented writers out there and when I read their fics I am just in awe of the worlds they have built and the stories they have created we are so blessed in this fandom to have so many amazing writers and so many amazing fics out there Oh yeah definitely its important to enjoy what you do!! I know I love writing and love writing fics for Dani and Jamie so I think I'll be doing it for a while even if I'm not great at it haha Awwh thank you very much I hope you have a great weekend too!! ☺️

[mypoisonedvine]

Helping Hand - Chapter 1

Jaskier x (female)Reader

Rating: E 

Warnings: None, just a lot of smut and hopefully some fluff and angst to come

Word Count: a bit over 3k

Prompt: “Hey hey! I basically just read every piece of Jaskier stuff on your page and I'm in looooove. Could you write one where the reader (female) has been cursed with a love spell? Kinda? Like every touch is ultry heightened but she cant "take care of business" unless it's from the person she loves? So she has to embarrassingly ask/confess to Jaskier (and maybe Geralt if you want) for a helping hand?” (thanks for not only the prompt but the title idea lol)

Taglist: @100percentamess @mytinybaguette 

Of course, you assumed the old hag was just senile, at first.  When someone pisses someone else off, it’s somewhat normal to curse them, it’s just that it’s not really literal.  So why would you take it seriously when some woman claiming to be a bog witch says that she’ll put a curse on you for trespassing on her swamp?  

You didn’t even really pay attention to what she’d said- something about your true affections coming to light?  And she had rhymed light with plight?  But you forgot what the plight even was, because it didn’t matter.  

Your first sign that something was wrong was when you rejoined Geralt and Jaskier at the edge of the bog.  They’d asked how your search went, all was normal, but then Jaskier touched you.  It was casual, something you never would’ve even thought about previously, but this time it felt oddly strong.  Like he was gripping you with so much force, like he had punched you in the shoulder.  Except it wasn’t painful?  Just powerful.  You still yelped in surprise.

“Damn, it was just a bug on your shoulder, no need to have a fit,” Jaskier mumbled.

“Why did you touch me so… hard?”

“I barely touched you…?  Are you injured?” he asked.  He started to reach out to examine you but you ducked away.

"I'm fine," you grumbled.

You weren't fine, and it became clear to you very quickly.  As soon as you'd all begun to travel back into town, the heat started.  It was cold out, and yet you felt like you were burning up.  You didn't say anything because you didn't want to cause alarm over hot flashes.  But then you felt that undeniable need, usually not the sort of thing to strike you in the afternoon as you walked alongside Roach, burning through you.  You looked over to Jaskier and though he looked the same as always, you felt like you were seeing him with new eyes.  As you gaze scanned each part of him, an urge to reach out and touch whatever you could reach began to knock against your brain.  It’s not like you’d never noticed he was attractive before, but now it was like you couldn’t see anything else; you forced yourself to look away before you couldn’t stop yourself from pouncing on him.  

The second you were back in town, you were in the pub and drinking like it was the end of the world.  This was the sort of strange feeling that you felt like only alcohol could wash down.  Of course, it turns out you were entirely wrong- being drunk just made it impossible to resist the ridiculous whims running through your mind.

“Say, would you pass me that-” Jaskier began.  He hadn’t even finished when you jumped up and reached for the nearby mug of ale, handing it to him eagerly.  “Erm, thanks,” he nodded.  Even as you felt embarrassed upon realizing that your reaction was rather strange, you felt relief wash over you for some reason.  To know that you had done what he wanted, perhaps to have even made him happy in some small way, was deeply satisfying.  

“Are you feeling alright?” Geralt asked with a mildly concerned expression.  Knowing that this was only going to get worse, you decided to take the opportunity to leave while you still could.

“This ale hits harder than I’d anticipated.  I’ll turn in early, I think,” you decided as you stood up, giving a quick bow before you dashed upstairs to your room.

You fell onto your bed, and though your mind was requesting for some time to think about whatever the hell was going on, your body was alight with a very clear and unified need.  You were barely laying down before you were shimmying your trousers down and touching yourself.  It was good, but instantly you were longing for something more, and though you didn’t mean to think of him, Jaskier (of course) popped into your mind.  Thinking of Jaskier brought you so much closer but never close enough.  You were desperate enough to rub yourself raw seeking release, but you knew that it would never work.  You certainly tried several times anyways, but soon you were looking to the door, then you looked away, then you looked back to the door, and repeated this until your desperation overcame your guilt and you found yourself stumbling down the hall to Jaskier’s room.

"Jask…?" you prompted as you pushed open the door.  You found him laying back on his bed, setting a book aside to greet you.

"What is it?" he asked cheerily.  You closed the door behind you.

"Do you remember a few months ago… we were at that pub in Cintra-" you began.

"I remember," he interrupted, almost sounding stern about it.

Talking about it made your stomach feel all floaty and twisty.  You'd agreed it was a mistake, fueled by drunkenness and loneliness- him just having been dumped by the Countess again and you having developed affections for a man you'd encountered on the journey only to discover he had failed to mention he was married.  (For you, marriage was actually a deal-breaker, much to Jaskier's surprise.)  We both really wanted someone else, you'd told him, and settled on each other.  He'd thought that was a good summary, you shook hands on it and thankfully were able to move on as friends.  And that's what you'd wanted, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry to bring it up," you nervously apologized.

"It's not like I'd forgotten about it," he chuckled.

"I'm sort of- I have a… situation," you began.

"The same sort of situation that had you falling into my bed?" he presumed.  You felt your face get hot from hearing that.  He seemed a little agitated, which made you very concerned that this was going to backfire on you.  But, you were in too deep to stop now.

"I suppose," you answered.

"There's plenty of fish in the sea," he shrugged.

"I want you, specifically," you clarified.  "I need you.  It has to be you."

“So, I’ve ruined you for all other men?” he smirked.

“I can’t… by myself,” you gestured, hoping he would get what you meant.

"I’ve ruined you even for yourself?”

"I think I was cursed!" you finally blurted out.

"Falling in love with me can feel like a curse, I know, but don't blame yourself," he soothed sarcastically, resting his hands behind his head.

"That day I went into the bog, you touched me- and ever since, everything's been wrong, and you're the only person who can… I can't even think about anyone else," you continued.  He seemed to actually start paying attention.  "I have this strange urge to do what you tell me to, it feels so, erm, good.  It feels good to do what you ask of me."

He straightened up a bit, his smile dropping.  "Okay, that doesn't sound anything like you.  You've definitely been cursed."

"And I have this… desire.  It's overwhelming.  I can't even think straight."

“You- you should have Geralt take care of you.  He’s got a lot of stamina, and no pesky feelings to get in the way,” he dismissed, looking away from you as he got up off the bed. 

If you weren’t so high on desperation, you would’ve noticed the implications of his phrasing, but of course you were, so you didn’t.

“I want you,” you begged, “please.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you weren’t cursed,” he scoffed.  You stepped closer and in such a small room he was already so close and your body felt like a tuning fork, vibrating and humming for him.

“Of course not.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” you countered, your breathing suddenly heavy.

He looked at you and he almost looked pained… sad, guilty maybe.  Since when did a woman begging for him inspire anything but unadulterated joy in any man, let alone a man like Jaskier?

“Please,” you whimpered one more time.  He stepped forward and reached out, tentatively at first, and brushed his fingers against your chest.  You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan.

“Wow, you’re really worked up, huh?” he asked, somewhere between genuine concern and teasing.  You nodded feverishly.

“How can I help you?” he asked softly.

“Make love to me,” you pleaded.

He made a peculiar noise when you said that, like a gasp and a sigh at once, even though they’re technically opposites.

He leaned in and you nearly sobbed at just the idea of him kissing you.  Instead he pressed his lips against your neck, even the slightest touch causing your hips to buck towards him.  He reached around and started to undo the lacing on the back of your bodice- even through the layers of your blouse you felt the warmth of his fingertips, and the delicate movements of his hands sent shivering tingles up and down your back.  He’d only been touching you for maybe twenty seconds and you felt like you were two-thirds to orgasm- everything was more sensitive, more powerful.  You weren’t sure how you would keep your composure.

“This ale hit you really hard, hm?”

“It’s not the ale,” you panted.

“That’s not what you’ll say tomorrow morning,” he theorized.

“What will I say- ah- tomorrow morning?” you asked, trying to stop every moan and whimper from arising.  He’d gotten your top off just enough to expose your shoulders and was kissing along the left one like it was actually worth kissing even though it was just a damn shoulder.  An hour ago you’d have killed for him to kiss you like this anywhere, but now that you were here, suddenly you had much more specific ideas.

“I won’t be able to tell what you’re saying because you’ll be smashing my lute over my head,” he chuckled.

You’d sort of forgotten what question you were asking.

“You really think I dislike you that much?” you asked quietly.  He didn’t answer, pulling your blouse up over your head and letting it fall to the floor.  You expected it to be cold but you suddenly felt warmer than ever, like you were wrapped in warm blankets.  Even better than warm blankets, though, you were wrapped in Jaskier’s arms, which felt so much stronger than you remembered as he pulled you close and guided you to his bed.  

You expected him to lay with you but instead he laid you down and stepped back.  You felt very aware of your toplessness, and that he was fully dressed and staring at you.

“Aren’t you going to undress?” you asked nervously.  

“Or I could just stare at you all night,” he offered, crossing his arms.

“No, please, touch me,” you whined, your back arching.

“I was just kidding, don’t stress yourself out,” he laughed, slipping off his doublet and chemise and climbing on top of you.  His body pressed against yours was everything you’d dreamed, everything you’d wanted, and finally he kissed you.  You recognized it a bit from the back of the pub rendezvous but this one was different, a little slower, a little deeper.  You decided that you needed to kiss him again when you were sober because this kiss was too good to be wasted on a version of yourself that couldn’t remember it perfectly, which sadly applied to both instances so far.  Suddenly he rolled his hips, ever so slightly, and you felt that he was hard and it rubbed against you in just the right place and instantly you came, even with your trousers still on.  You did your best to hide it, your moans lost in his lips, and either he didn’t notice or didn’t mind because all he did was pull you closer.  Your face felt hot, in fact all of you felt hot, and even as relief had just washed over you, you were not spared from your desire.  If anything, the edge had been taken off, and yet you felt like you needed him more than ever.  

“Please, inside me, please,” you managed to mumble between kisses.  He didn’t respond, but he did reach down to start pulling your trousers lower.  You lifted your hips so he could do it more easily and you sort of hoped he would just get them down to your knees and get on with it, but instead he took the time to take them all the way off, sitting back on his legs to peel each leg off your feet.  You sat up with him, starting to work on his trousers and having to fight yourself to do it slowly rather than ripping them off.  Once you could pull them down enough to get his cock out, though, you were nixing the entire trousers concept and wrapping your hand around it.  You sighed with relief, just to feel it so warm and heavy in your grip.  Compelled for more, you found yourself leaning forward and taking it into your mouth.  You heard him gasp and it was the most wonderful noise, the sound of it giving you that wonderful feeling like you’d done something good, something so right.  You bobbed up and down and it seemed to come naturally to you, his gasps getting faster and turning to moans.

“I thought I was supposed to be taking care of you,” he panted.  You just moaned around him, doing your best to take him as deep as you could.  His fingers wove into your hair, and just the way they grazed your scalp made your skin tingle and shiver all over.  He didn’t let you go on much longer until he grabbed your shoulders and (lightly) pushed you back onto the bed, balancing on his forearms to hover above you.  You thought he might say something, and he was looking at you like he wanted to say something, but he just kissed you again.  How could just a kiss have so much of an effect on you?

But then he was running his hands along your legs, and gently spreading them open, and that had even more of an effect on you.  In fact, you had to put in so much effort just to suppress your reaction, and yet your head still fell back against the pillow and your lips still leaked out a little moan.

“Is this the curse?  Or the ale?” he asked quietly, his lips brushing against your jaw.

“It’s just you,” you mumbled.

“Bull.  It’s the curse,” he smiled, “but I’ll pretend it’s me anyways.”

“Please, don’t tease me any longer,” you pleaded quietly, your back arching off the bed.

“This isn’t teasing, it’s seducing,” he frowned.

“I don’t care for it.” 

“You seem to be having a good time,” he smirked, kisses running down to your collarbones, chest, and finally delicately wrapping around a hardened nipple.  You whined, suddenly unable to form any words with which to respond.  His right hand trailed around your thigh, reaching closer to where you needed him most until he ever-so-casually plunged two fingers into you.  You had to dig your nails into his shoulder to resist crying out, afraid that if you were as loud as you wanted to be, you’d get a noise complaint from the neighboring rooms.  He barely even had to move them to hit spots inside you that you hadn’t realized you had, making your hips buck and your legs shake.

“Please,” you stuttered, “I need you.”

“You have me,” he said as if it were some simple, obvious thing to say and not the sort of thing that would make you want for him so desperately that you feared fainting.  

And all at once he removed his fingers, reaching to wrap his hands around your waist and since when were his hands so big?

And all at once he was pushing his hips closer to yours and your gaze met his and since when were his eyes so blue?

And all at once he was inside you and you didn’t really care about noise complaints anymore.

~

“Jaskier?  Are you awake?” you whispered.

“I am now,” he responded quietly, turning to face you in the bed.  There was only moonlight streaming in through the window but it cast the most beautiful shadows and you found yourself running your fingers along his muscled chest.  

"I long for you," you admitted, "I need you."

"Again?"

Gods, did he have to make it seem like such a chore?

“Don’t you understand?  I have no other way to get off!”

“Well, how often were you getting off before?”

“I don’t know, maybe… once, twice a night?”

His eyes went wider than you’d maybe ever seen them.  “Holy- you can’t be serious.”

“What?” you shrugged.

“You’re insatiable!  I mean, with a libido like that, how and why are you the most chaste of the three of us?”

“Because I’m getting off on my own three times a night.”

“You said once or twice,” he frowned.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react if I told you I go four times in a row,” you smirked.

“I’m afraid to keep talking to you in case the number just keeps going up,” he sighed, his head falling into his hands. “I can’t keep up with that!”

“You can!” you encouraged. “You have,” you mumbled.

“I have?” he repeated, perking up all of a sudden.

“Yeah, well, before…” you trailed off.  “You’re just trying to flatter me until I agree to make love to you four times a day,” he dismissed.

“No, that’s what I’m saying.  You don’t need to, er, do that four times to get four… just once is apparently enough.”  How was it so hard to say the words when you’d already done the deeds? “Apparently?  I think we need to test that theory,” he smiled, and though it was dark and you could barely see anything, you still saw a little glimmer shining in his eye.

~

“Jaskier, we need to get up,” you reminded as you shook him awake.

“Are we leaving town, or do you just want me to make love to you again?” “You weren’t complaining when I woke you up the last two times,” you remembered with a quirked eyebrow.

“Well, I wasn’t as underslept then.  Gods, I feel like I could sleep for a week.”  He turned to you, and moved a lock of hair behind your ear.  “Aren’t you exhausted?”  

But he was giving you this... look, and you weren’t sure if it was the look, but apparently it was enough to get you inspired.  You pulled him into a kiss, climbing on top of him and straddling his legs with yours.  

“Suddenly I’m feeling very energized, actually,” you smiled.

(next chapter)

[solace-sun]

Not The Typical Way You Meet a Soulmate Chapter Two (Solangelo)

Over the years, Nico had become best friends with Gatorade, Pedialyte, and Ibuprofen, especially after nights like last. Nico used these like shields against his hangovers, but every so often he'd find himself in a drought of Gatorade, or maybe he would get too drunk to remember to hydrate himself. Either way, he always had to face the headache of a hangover once in a while; it was the price he had to pay for his fun.

He regained consciousness on his twin size mattress, with a dim and blurry recollection of the night before. Highlighted in his memory, however, remained Will's impression, his blonde locks, and careful blue eyes. The image made Nico's stomach do flips, but then again, that could just be his hangover.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he became acutely aware of the piercing pain through his skull, the shakes that came in waves from his core, and the faint sense of nausea rising from his throat. He still wore last night's clothes, which now hung awkwardly off his frame; too tight in all the wrong areas and too loose in others.

He felt like shit.

The more awake he was, the more conscious he grew, the grosser he felt. Wrapping an arm around himself, he pretended to be anywhere but the present, wishing he was somewhere other than his besides his shoddy apartment, but the hammering pain in his head made it hard to focus. He ended up closing his eyes and wishing, praying, he could go back to sleep.

Maybe Nico enjoyed the drunken buzz he'd get at parties, but he never came to welcome the pounding hangover that followed. He never learned to embrace the feeling of a twisted gut or headaches like sledgehammers in his skull.

Unfortunately for Nico, last night's wrath didn't stop with a hangover, he wasn't that lucky. Last night's vengeance was about to enter for round two through the door of Nico's room, in the form of a very unhappy Hazel Levesque.

The door flew open, slamming against the wall behind it.

"Nico!" She shouted, "What the fuck man?"

Well, shit. She's mad about something.

Nico rubbed a sleepy eye awake, "Hazel... Please be quiet. My head hurts," He groaned.

"It's because you're hungover, isn't it?" She accused, "Whatever, that doesn't even matter right now. You got in a fight with someone at the party last night?"

"Who told you?" Nico asked, coercing himself to raise up.

"My friend who hosted the damn party, dipshit!"

"Hazel, I didn't even touch the dude. I would hardly call it a fight. Could you please leave me alone?"

"My friend has a hole in his drywall now! You can't keep starting shit at parties or pissing off people, or getting so drunk you can't remember what happened."

"I remember last night. I didn't blackout," Nico reasoned.

"That's a first. How long has it been since that last happened?" Hazel chided, pinching the bridge of her nose "Actually, no. Don't answer that. I'm gonna be late for class. I'll talk to you when I get home."

She spun out of the room and gathered her things. Before leaving, she called to him from the front door.

"I'm still mad at you still, but I love you!" Her tone was detesting, but Nico could appreciate the sentiment. He laid back, boring holes into the ceiling until his interest became fatigued.

After the ceiling had lost its appeal, he decided that maybe it was time to face the day. He rolled over to check his phone, stretching to reach it where it lay charging.

A text from Will was left in his notifications.

Will: Glad you made it home okay :)

Nico couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face. He began to type out a response.

Nico: hey i just wanted to say thanks for walking me home last night

Nico: oh and also for not letting my shit get kicked in by a lacrosse player who was a foot taller than me

Will: Lol it was no problem, just returning the favor

Will: How's ur day been so far?

Nico: i mean i just woke up hungover, so not all that great :/

Will: I'm sorry to hear that dude! You know, they say a good breakfast is the best hangover cure

Nico: well thats unfortunate, all i have at my house for breakfast is pop tarts

Will: Are you serious?

Will: Let me take you to breakfast, I'll buy

Will: Call it the final pay back for everything that you did for me yesterday

Nico: i thought walking me home yesterday was payback? not saying im gonna refuse a free breakfast tho

Will: Walking you home was for the party, breakfast can be for the groceries

Nico: will you don't have to do that

Will: I know! I just wanted to show my appreciation :)

Will: There's a cafe I was thinking of. It's usually pretty quiet, and won't be too noisy. I can send you the address and meet you there in 35 minutes?

Nico: alright, see you there

Nico peeled himself from the hold of his twin-sized mattress. He shuffled to a pile of clothes that resided on the floor, scouring for something that wasn't yesterday's clothes to wear. He slipped on a sweatshirt and pulled the hood on; it was a hood-up kind of day. Before he left he swiped a pair of sunglasses laying on his nightstand, his last hope to buffer his headache from the sober world.

He came to find that it didn't help much.

His groggy walk brought him to the cafe doors earlier than he had anticipated, leaving him to anticipate Will's arrival. He stood idly at the cafe entrance with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. His head still pounded, and the talking of strangers passing by became sirens in his head. He had to remind himself this was all worth it for free breakfast.

Just before his waiting turned to worry, Will approached from down the street. The grasp around Nico's anxious heart subsided as he saw the familiar face.

"How are things going man!" He asked as he pulled the cafe door open with his good arm.

Nico couldn't ignore the headache piercing his skull, "Things could be better," he shrugged.

"Hey, once we get a little bit of breakfast, I'm sure things will get much better."

The inside of the cafe treated Nico's hangover much better than the outside had. The cool air and quiet atmosphere were exactly what he needed that morning. He silently thanked Will for being kind of a genius.

As soon as the two settled into their seats, Nico let his head lay on the table. Will gave him a sympathetic smile.

"That bad, huh?" He asked. Nico only nodded in response.

"Let me order for you. I know exactly what will help you out, dude."

"I will do anything, as long as it gets rid of this headache," Nico groaned as he propped himself up, resting his head on his hands, "Thanks for offering me breakfast."

"Thanks for carrying my groceries for me," Will grinned.

Before long, a waitress sauntered over, placing a pitcher of ice water and two cheap plastic cups in front of the two. She asked for their orders, of which Will ordered for the two of them.

Nico tuned their conversation out, getting lost in the scene outside their window. He watched the cars pass by, his eyes hidden by his sunglasses.

Will pushed a cup of water towards him to reel him back into the present.

"You need to rehydrate," he prompted. Nico did as he was told, and took small sips from the cup.

"How's your day been so far?" Nico asked.

"Pretty good. Though, I feel bad saying that to your face," Will joked. Nico shot him a look Will could see even through the dark glasses.

Will chuckled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He put his hands up in defeat.

"How was the rest of the party?" Nico asked.

"Honestly? I didn't stay much longer after you went home. I checked in with my friends to make sure they were fine then called it a night. Guess it was just kinda boring without you there, starting fights and all."

Nico covered his face with his hands, "God, don't remind me about that," he grumbled.

"What? I thought it was sweet," Will responded.

"Yeah, I don't know," Nico started, "Drunk me thought I was doing something great, but my sister totally chewed me out for it this morning."

"Why?"

"I guess she's friends with the guy who hosted the party... And he's not too thrilled to have a hole in his wall, which could technically be my fault? I don't know," He explained.

"Oh, does your sister go to school?" Will asked.

"Yeah, she's a freshman, studies early education."

"Oh, that's cool," Will engaged. Then his eyebrows furrowed, and his expression became confused, "Can I ask a question?"

"That depends. What's the question?" Nico's tone was apprehensive.

"How come you don't go to school?"

Before Nico had the chance to respond, the waitress had returned and plates were being unloaded on the table in front of him. He looked down at the mystery meal Will had ordered for him.

"What the fuck is this?" Nico exclaimed, "Is this spinach in my breakfast?"

"Oh my god," Will rolled his eyes, "You know, everything on that plate is what they recommend you eat to get rid of a hangover."

"Okay, you know what? Fine. I'll eat your weird healthy breakfast, only because it's gonna make me not feel like my brain is trying to rot inside my skull."

He grabbed at a fork and stabbed his omelette with it, and took a bite.

"Oh shit," He spoke behind a mouthful of food.

"What?" Will gave a concerned look, glancing up from his own breakfast.

"This is actually really good," Nico admitted why a shy smile.

"See? It's not that bad. And it's good for you."

"Will," Nico began, "I want you to look at me in the eyes, and recall everything you know about me, which, granted, isn't a lot," He paused to take another bite of food, "And ask yourself if I really seem like the type of person who cares about which foods are good for me or not."

Will raised his eyebrows. For a second, Nico thought he had offended him, but Will erupted into that contagious laughter of his. Nico joined in, giving in to the pull of the laughter.

Will shook his head, his chuckles slowing to a stop, "Man, I guess you're right."

Will looked at Nico and smiled. Nico glanced back, if only for a second, and reciprocated the grin.

Then he felt the phone in his pocket buzzing. He reached down into his pocket and gave a quick 'sorry give me a second' to Will before answering.

"Hello?"

"Nico! Are you gonna show up for your shift? I've told you before man, you gotta give me notice if you're gonna be late."

Shit.

It was his manager.

"I wasn't on the schedule for today, I thought," Nico defended. Will looked up from his plate and gave a concerned look.

"Should have double-checked, I needed you here thirty minutes ago."

Shiiiiiit.

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as possible,"

"How long is that going to be?" His manager's voice rang through the phone.

"I don't know... I'm not at home right now, and I'm walking so... It could be twenty-five minutes. I'm so sorry, I didn't know I had a shift today."

"Do whatever you can to get here, I need your ass down here now. We're having a rush and we're understaffed."

"Right, okay. See you in a few," Nico responded, and ended the call.

"Do you gotta go?" Will asked, disappointment hidden in his tone.

Nico pursed his lips, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea I was on the schedule, but I gotta go now or I am so fucking fired."

"Do you need a ride?"

"Will, no, I can't ask you to do that. You're already paying for my meal," Nico explained.

"Nico, it's totally fine! I don't mind at all," Will insured, "I picked up my car from the shop yesterday, so we're good to go!"

Nico's brows furrowed while he contemplated the offer. After a moment, he agreed.

"I'm only accepting because I needed to be there, like, 30 minutes ago," Nico said, as he began to pack his things and leave. Will left a pile of cash that would cover the bill plus tip, and the two hurried out of the restaurant, and towards Will's beat up SUV.

When Nico walked through the back door of his restaurant job, he was met with several pissed coworkers and his manager.

"He finally shows up!" his coworker, Jason, exclaimed.

"About fuckin' time!" another employee called out. Nico ignored his coworkers teasing, and snatched his uniform from his locker, and threw it on, trying to smooth the wrinkles out while tugging on the sleeve. He clocked in, and rushed to the front of the house, to take his position.

As he sped to his spot, he bumped into his manager, whose only words were a muttered 'glad you could make it.' Nico gave a shy smile and grabbed a handful of menus before settling at his stand.

Working at a five-star restaurant was kind of like maintaining a well oiled machine -- if well oiled machines could be a dysfunctional team that somehow maintained the image of perfection on the surface. It was a stressful job, but it paid decently, all things considered, and sometimes Nico even liked his coworkers. In the very least, they were usually tolerable.

But today, Nico was up against the edge, still half hungover, and in the middle of a rush, he wished he could still be enjoying Will's company. Something about Will made his heart feel still.

Despite his longing to be elsewhere, Nico was, unfortunately, stuck at his job, taking the orders of people who didn't know mediocre, overpriced food if it hit them in the face. His least favorite part of the job was the customers, but then again, Nico was fairly sure if you asked any food service worker, they would say the same thing.

This rang especially true today. He was getting a headache  (And no, it wasn't just the remnant of his hangover) listening to an older woman complain about her food. He had tried to tune her out maybe five minutes into the lecture about why her food sucked, and why she deserved a refund with a complimentary meal, but he could still hear the echo of her nasally voice through his dissociative state. After the lady finished her spiel, Nico resumed his customer service voice and assured her she would be satisfied with a new meal, per company policy, and left the table.

He walked into the kitchen, ready to announce that he was going on break when his coworker slammed into him. Now, if his coworker had been empty handed, maybe everything would have been fine. But she wasn't, instead, she had been carrying out a meal, which was now plastered all over Nico's white, formal uniform.

Are you fucking kidding me?

"Oh my god! I am so sorry!" She exclaimed. Nico could feel the frustration and annoyance bubbling in his chest, rising up his throat. He shut his eyes, and inhaled, reopening his eyes as he exhaled.

"I am going on break," He spoke in monotone, attempting to disguise any anger in his voice. He dragged himself out back, and slumped onto a crate to sit on. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Today's shift fucking sucked.

He pulled out his phone. In his notifications was a text from Will. The anger and frustration that held Nico's heart began to loosen its grasp.

Will: How's work? Hope you haven't been fired yet lol

Nico: not fired yet, just got angry looks from my coworkers for being 40 minutes late during a rush

Nico: maybe it's deserved though, it'd be pretty mad if i were them

Will: I mean, in your defense you didn't know about your shift, and you seemed like you genuinely felt bad so I wouldn't beat yourself up too badly :)

Nico: thanks, haha

Will: Quick question, do you have a ride home?

Nico: no i usually just walk home

Will: Do you want a ride? I'd feel bad if I just dropped you off with no way to get back home

Nico: you can't keep doing favors for me like this

Nico: I get off late anyway, you probably wouldn't want to drive around by the time I get off

Will: What time is your shift over?

Nico: uh

Nico: seven

Will: That's not even late

Nico: i don't need a ride, i'll be fine, i promise

Nico: thanks for the offer tho

Will: I will take it as a personal offense if you don't accept this offer, Nico

Nico: dont tell me that

Nico: like seriously though, i can't let you do this

Will: I feel bad just dropping you off like that!

Nico: i walk home all the time, its okay! i promise

Will: How often do you walk home hungover?

Nico: i mean, im not even hungover anymore so

Nico: but now that you've offered, it would be nice not to walk home for once

Nico: im only agreeing because you're practically begging me at this point

Will: I'll be waiting out back at 6:50 ;)

Nico shook his head and smiled, replacing the phone in his pocket.

As he smiled to himself, the back door swung open. Jason peered his head from around the door. He gave Nico a funny look.

"I don't think I've seen you smile before," He paused to think, "Ever."

"Oh, come on," Nico protested, "That's not fair."

"What's got you so happy? Surely not work, not after the shift you're having," Jason commented.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Nico taunted Jason.

"Don't be like that," Jason chastised, "Anyhow, boss wanted me to tell you that he wants you back inside, it's starting to get busy again."

"Tell him I'll be back out there in five minutes. Also, do you have a spare shirt I can borrow?" Nico asked, gesturing down to the mess that was now staining his shirt.

"I was just about to offer you my spare shirt. It's in my locker, let me go get it," Jason replied, holding the door open for Nico. He followed Jason inside as the heavy door slammed behind the two.

The rest of Nico's shift didn't improve by much, but at least he had something to look forward to. By the end of his shift, he never felt so welcomed by his hoodie and casual clothes, that hung loosely off his frame rather than the suffocating hug his work uniform gave him.

Clocking out was the best part of his day.

He walked out back, shoving the door out of the way and giving a curt goodbye to his coworkers. Will's car idled in the back alley behind the restaurant, awaiting his arrival. Will waved when he saw Nico emerge from the building.

"Hey, Nico!" Will exclaimed as Nico pulled the car door open.

"Hey Will," Nico started, "Thanks again for picking me up. I know I resisted at first, but like, I'm actually so glad I agreed. Would have been pissed if I were walking home right now."

"Man I don't know how you do it, walking every day" Will agreed.

"I mean you get used to it, but after some shifts I definitely wish I knew how to drive."

"So what, you never learned?"

"I mean, I never really felt the need to? Like some days I'm like 'yeah a car would be nice,' but most days I'm perfectly fine without."

"Have you ever thought about learning?" Will asked, glancing at Nico from the side of his eye as he drove.

"I don't know... I've always told myself I'd learn at some point, but I keep putting it off. Why?"

"I could teach you now, if you'd like," Will gave Nico a smile that meant trouble.

"What? No, Will, I'll total your car."

"It'll be fun! There's an empty parking lot we'll pass on the way back to your place, we can stop there and I can just show you the basics."

"What if I hit something?"

"Nico, dude, this car is worth at very most a total of 500 dollars. I wouldn't be ruined if this thing suffered a few bumps. It's the perfect car to learn in, you can't do any more damage to it than it has already suffered."

"I mean, I guess I don't have anything else going on tonight..." Nico gave a hesitant response.

"It'll be fun, I promise!" Will said as he flicked his turning signal and pulled into the empty lot. He put the car in park and opened the door.

"Okay, switch places with me," He prompted.

"Uh, okay," Nico gave some thought to hesitation, before stepping out of the passenger seat and into the driver's.

"Okay, look at the floorboard. Do you know which pedal is the brake and which one is for gas?" Will asked.

"Uh, the big one's the brake, right? And the small one is the gas?" Nico gave an answer even he doubted to be correct.

"Yeah! Okay, now put your foot on the brake," He instructed. Nico did as he told, gripping the steering wheel so tightly he thought he might break it.

"Great, now grab the gearshift, and put it into drive," Will explained, "You know how to do that?"

"Uh," Nico choked on his own words, "No?"

"That's okay!" Will assured. He reached over to gently hold Nico's hand, as he placed it on the gearshift. With his hand over Nico's, he pulled the gearshift into place.

"Now you're in gear!" He exclaimed with a bright grin. Nico's hand started to shake underneath Will's.

"What you wanna do now is let your foot off the brake, slowly though," As Will began, Nico lifted his foot off, and the car began to roll.

"Oh fuck the car is moving now," Nico cursed under his breath.

"You're doing good! The car is gonna move slowly as long as you don't hit the brakes. Now, I want you to take the same foot you just used the brakes with, and very slowly, press on the gas."

Nico placed a foot on the gas, and the car jerked forward.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," Nico groaned.

"Don't be! You're doing good!" Will encouraged, "Try again."

Nico lowered his foot back onto the pedal, and the car lurched once more. Surprised by the movement, he took his foot off the gas, giving Will a concerned look.

"It can be tricky to get the hang of, but you're doing really good so far!" He encouraged.

Nico's foot hovered over the pedal. Carefully, he began to press weigh to the pedal. The car began to move faster.

"Hey, there you go!" Will exclaimed, "You got it! Now, see if you can speed up a bit."

Nico pressed on the pedal, and the car roared, picking up speed. As the car gained speed Nico lost confidence, his chest began to feel tight. He could feel his hands tremor as he gripped the wheel, and he began to feel his throat close up. He slammed a foot into the brakes. The car screeched to a stop, causing both himself and Will to lurch forward in their seats. Nico's knuckles had turned white around the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Nico repeated, "I think... I think I'm done. Let's switch back."

"You were doing so well though!" Will reassured.

"No, I think I'm done," Nico confirmed, placing the car back into park.

"Oh, okay," Will's smile fell.

His shaky hands and nerves calmed once Nico returned to the passenger seat. He let out the breath he had been holding and rubbed his arms.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overwhelm you," Will said as he slid back into the driver's seat.

"Will, it's not your fault. I've... I've never been good at managing my nerves while driving. My dad gave up trying to teach me years ago because I'd just freak out whenever I was behind the wheel. I guess I thought this time would be different? I don't know..."

Nico felt a hand on his shoulder. Will ran a thumb over the skin on his shoulder.

"It's okay," Will ensured, giving a small smile to Nico, "I just hope I didn't make you feel pressured to do something you didn't want to."

"No! Of course not, I just thought I could actually do it this time. I mean there's a reason why I don't drive."

"You wanna talk about it?" Will asked.

"There's not much to talk about. It's just, like, my nerves... I just get so anxious behind the wheel. It's always been like that," Nico explained, fidgeting with his hands, "Like, I just personally think I shouldn't drive. There are some people out there who just don't drive, and maybe I should just commit to being one of those people."

"It takes practice," Will comforted, "You'll get it if you give it a chance."

"I don't know Will," Nico shook his head, "I can't drive in an empty parking lot, and I can't even imagine how I'd manage on a road with other cars. I don't know how you do it, especially with a broken arm, oh my god."

"I'm telling you, it's just practice. I mean, I guess the arm thing is a little hard to get around, but, I'm doing fine now, I think," Will spoke.

"Does it still hurt? Your arm?" Nico asked.

Will examined his arm, observing the curve of the cast, "No, not unless I move it the wrong way."

"I feel bad, you like, broke your arm," Nico began, "You said you've been playing lacrosse for seven years? And now, all of a sudden you just stopped? Don't you miss it?"

"I mean, yeah, I put so much of my time into it and spent so many years practicing. It was my sport and I loved it. And then, after I left the hospital, after talking to my coaches and telling them I was done... I realized, y'know, that I had put on my jersey, and played for the last time, without even knowing it, and that... That kinda sucked."

Nico nodded, watching Will as he spoke, "This whole thing sounds like it's been pretty hard on you."

Will turned to Nico, "This... may sound so stupid," Will laughed, "But you are so easy to talk to. Like being around you is just easy."

Nico smiled and nodded, "No, I get what you're saying."

He sighed and looked down at the floorboard.

"Guess I should be getting you home though, right?" Will asked as he started the engine. He pulled out of the lot and accelerated onto the road towards Nico's house. Will studied the road as Nico watched streetlights speeding by, their lights beginning to illuminate as the sun began to fall. A hazy shade of grey began to blanket the sky, and stars began to peek out from behind the veil. Will turned his head to steal a glance at Nico. For maybe a second, he let himself admire Nico's profile and the curve of his nose, the bend of his jawline, before pulling his gaze back towards the road.

He pulled into the apartment lot he had left Nico in the night before. As he pulled in, Nico looked like he was about to say something, maybe in protest, but ultimately decided against it.

Nico gave Will a soft smile and thankful eyes, "Thanks for the ride, Will."

"It's no problem, anytime," Will assured. He wanted to say more, but the back of his mind told him to remain silent, despite the pull in his chest. He didn't want this to be the last time he'd see Nico. He also didn't want to return to his empty apartment. He wasn't ready to be his only company again.

"Hey," Nico said, from outside the car, holding the door open and leaning in, "Text me later. Let me know what your schedule looks like so we hang out again. You're a fun guy to be with."

The tug at Will's chest rested, "Oh! Yeah, for sure!"

Nico closed the door, and left with a wave, as Will's car began to roll out of the lot.

Will exhaled a shaky breath, the feeling of loneliness beginning to flood his lungs. It was suffocating.  He drove home, trying not to lose himself to the feeling

As he walked into his empty home, he felt a buzz from his pocket. He opened his phone and saw Nico had sent a text.

just caught wind of a party happening tomorrow, any chance you're able to go? ;)

Will smiled to himself and felt some of the loneliness began to fade.

(Big thanks to my beta readers @embooks and @all-this-panic-still-no-disco !!)

[slasherswriter1318]

Hello! If you're still taking requests, may I have a scenario of Brahms' or Michael's (whichever you prefer!) S/O getting injured in an attempt to protect him? I.E. someone trying to sneak up and land a hit but the S/O takes it for them instead? Thank you so much!

Absolutely!! In fact, you’re my first request!!! I’ll do both for you, dear! Here we go:

Brahms

(For him, I think his S/O would be trying to protect his doll because he’s a hermit that hardly leaves his walls lol) Brahms was being his normal self. Creeping in the walls of the mansion while you did your chores. Today, however, he was on edge because of it being delivery day, where the delivery guy would come and drop off groceries to you. He would normally be irritated by this had it been the regular guy that came by. But no, he’s on edge because that guy caught the flu and was replaced by some....unwanted filth. Brahms absolutely wanted this man gone as soon as he arrives but you, being the friendly person you are, always have a chat with him. You never notice it, but Brahms does, when the guy stares at your form with a nasty crooked smile on his face. 

Throughout the whole day today, Brahms showed his clinginess through the doll as it always appeared around the rooms you were cleaning in. After appearing in the sixth room in a row, you decided on a lunch break for you and Brahms. You carried Brahms’s doll to the kitchen, followed by the actual Brahms via the walls.

You decided on making a peanut butter & jelly sandwich because of how Brahms’s doll made you feel like a kid again. The actual Brahms watched you hum as you worked on the sandwiches with a smile on your face as he too began to smile at your adorableness. But that was all cut short when the doorbell rang. You picked up doll Brahms and carried him to the front of the house to see who it is.

Upon arrival, you opened the door to see the same new delivery guy as always. He stumbled into the home as he swayed side to side with the bags and began to ramble on about the weather. Your nose scrunched up at the familiar smell of alcohol that reeked off his figure. You knew how angry Brahms gets at the presence of this man and tried to kindly talk to him as he stood before you. The man’s eyes raked over your form, making shivers of disgust rush through you, but stopped at the doll. He frowned at the sight of it and rubbed his face.

He then tried to ask you on a date with his breath stanching of alcohol. You politely declined him and explained your duties of taking care of the house and Brahms. The guy then started to lose his temper and began to call you all kinds of obscenities that made Brahms’s blood boil with anger as he watched from behind the walls. You then ordered him to leave or you would contact the authorities but he wasn’t having any of it and reached for the doll. As a reflex, you slapped his hand away and shielded the sacred object, caring for it greatly after seeing all of the strange occurrences around the house.

The man growled in anger as he tried to strike the doll, but you had turned your body away from him and earned a punch onto your back, sending you onto your knees. In a drunken rage, the man began to yell more obscenities at you as he kicked at you, trying to get the doll. But you only curled yourself inward more as you shielded it with all of your might.

The kicking stopped suddenly, soon followed by pained yells and a sickening crack. You looked up with teary eyes at a tall, dirty man that wore a large porcelain mask that resembled the face of the doll’s. You put two and two together as you weakly muttered out his name. He dove towards you and gently sat you on his lap in a tight embrace as he sat against the wall. Even though you couldn’t see it, you could hear Brahms cry at the fact that you got hurt because of a disgusting man he should’ve gotten rid of sooner and blamed himself for it. You looked up at him and shushed him softly as you cradled his face in your hands, placing a kiss on his forehead as you told him that you were okay now and so happy to see him for the first time. The two of you then hugged in a sweet embrace as you thought of how things will be different now.

Michael Myers

Now, Michael is a natural creeper/stalker. He knew how to remain silent amongst the wooded areas when stalking his prey. The fact that you even managed to remain undetected is, and will always be, a great mystery to him. Michael was currently walking after an injured, teenaged girl that he stabbed. He kept walking towards her, wanting to get home to your sweet embrace....not that he’d ever tell you that. The two of you had met when you managed to sneak into his house and use the fireplace to warm you up from a storm. You had panicked slightly at the sight of him and promised you’d leave as soon as the rain stopped but he merely shook his head and nodded for you to stay. 

The two of you had grown closer over time as you stayed at his home with him and made it a home again. He never shows it, but he always looks forward to your beautiful smiles, your warm hugs, and your terrible...TERRRIBLE jokes. And right now, this dying teenager was starting to piss him off more. He wanted the job to be over and done as soon as possible, but he had to get rid of the girl’s boyfriend as well, who was somewhere around. Michael raised his knife and brought it down into the girl’s chest repeatedly. He heard a protesting shout but thought nothing of it, even when he saw the fist coming towards him. 

But he didn’t count for you to somehow appear and take the punch to the face. His eyes widened at the sight of you falling and cradling your eye as you winced in pain. He then rushed over to you to see the damage as the boyfriend tried to see whether or not his girlfriend was alive. When you looked at Michael with both of your eyes, your right one being closed and already beet red, he began to lose his control. The next thing you knew, Michael was already up and racing towards the guy that had hit you and started smashing his head against a tree, breaking off a few branches before shoving his head into the broken part of a branch, through his right eye.

Michael walked over to you as you began to explain to him that you were fine, but he wasn’t having any of it and picked you up. You tried to reassure him that you were fine as he walked you both home to help with your eye, but you gave up when you knew he wouldn’t put you down. You smiled up at him though as you knew he always cared, even when he doesn’t show it physically, you could always see it in his eyes.

Hopefully this was good for you!!! I appreciate your request so much and I had a lot of fun writing this!!! Take care and have a wonderful day to you all!!!