#ghost will in the background on his seat screaming “WELL?! WERE U

[chfairwell]

Jem: I was a silent brother

Kit: were you silenT or were you silencED?! 🤐🤏🏽🤨

Tessa: okay time for bed

[bathomet-writes]

prom (orange edition)

summary: Your date for the school dance bails on you. Who better to come in and sweep you off your feet in their stead than the party guy?

relationship: Mikey x GN!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, kissing, sfw

word count: 3,714

author's note: and here's the final part of the prom!! thank u all for reading!! part one, part two, part three (thank you @/cherryp0p224 for the request)

“Hey, where are you?”

You sigh with relief, bringing your phone up. You had been texting Tyler for practically 45 minutes. He was supposed to meet you at the gym doors, but you couldn’t find him among the crowd of people lined up. One and a time they were being ushered in by ticket-takers, and you were almost up next.

Your voice breaks a little bit as you whisper into your phone. “They’re about to let me in, and you’re not here. I can't keep going to the back of the line forever.”

“I know, okay? I just got held up—“

Then, you hear the faint sound of voices in the background. They were laughing. 

To your shock, you hear Tyler start to laugh too.

“Hello?”

He holds his hand over the speaker before going back to you. 

“Yeah! I’ll be there soon. Traffic’s a mess right now.”

A chorus of giggles rings out in your ear. You hang up the phone and grumble to yourself.

“Fuck…”

Well this was just great. You watch as the last couple walks forward to hand their tickets to the chaperones at the door. Reaching into your pocket, you feel the tiny slip of paper.

“Y’know what?”

You pluck your ticket out and rip it to shreds. 

“That’s what I think of this stupid, dumb, fucking—!”

The edge of the ticket slices right into the side of your index finger. 

“Ow…”

Why was paper so inexplicably dangerous? You were going to be a good citizen and throw the scraps into the recycling bin, but you decide to just toss them into the trash instead. Right where they and Tyler belonged. 

You suck at your wound a bit, wandering back to the exit. The school was pretty quiet at the moment, most of the people having already made it into the dance. It was interesting seeing this place so empty. Suddenly, you get an idea.

If you weren’t going to go to prom, you could at least have a little bit of fun. 

“I wonder if the theater’s open…”

The huge double-doors were right there, beckoning you to open them. They couldn’t possibly be unlocked, but you try anyway.

Click. The handle moves.

You smirk deviously. “Time for mischief.”

Quietly, you sneak in through the doors and make sure they shut behind you. Nobody was in the auditorium, obviously, but you weren’t about to make any more noise than you wanted to. Tiptoeing past the sea of empty chairs, you sigh.

“What shenanigans could I get into? I could…sit in every chair. I could mess with the lights, go into the pit—“

“There’s a pit? Is it a pit of spikes? Pit of snakes?”

You stop, calmly responding to the mysterious disembodied voice.

“No, more like an orchestra pit. I wish there was a pit of snakes around here.”

The voice ‘ooh’-s with understanding.

“Are you the ghost that haunts the theater?” You spin around, walking over to sit in the front row. “I thought you were just a legend the freshman liked to gossip about.”

“Wait…” 

The voice quivers, but not in a spooky, ghost kind of way. More like in a fearful way.

“There’s a g-ghost?”

Craning your neck toward the ceiling, you call out to the entity. “Well, I’m the only living being here, so?”

Then, you hear a commotion in the rafters. With a loud crash, you look up to find a very alive-looking guy barreling toward you.

You both scream in surprise, your voices shrill and piercing in the silence of the theater. The acoustics were actually really nice here.

“AAAAAAH—!” He shouts, landing in the row of seats behind you.

“What the—! Are you okay?”

You quickly scramble over your row to investigate. You didn’t recognize him, but the person who just seemingly fell from the ceiling looked pretty shaken up. 

“Woah.” He shakes his head, regaining his composure. “That was close.”

He stands back up and dusts himself off before meeting your worried gaze. 

“Omigosh! It’s yeeeeeooo…” He trails off.

You blink, looking at him even more confused. “It’s what?”

“It’s…” He begins shaking like a leaf, his mouth curling into a sheepish smile.

Immediately, this dude seems off to you. His nervous stance and wide eyes set off your ‘stranger danger’ alarm. But, for some reason, you relax. Maybe it was the fall that made him so freaked out, or the fact that you were standing a little too close to him. 

Either way, you lean in further. Staring at his face wasn’t half bad. 

“You hit your head or something?” You quirk your head to the side. 

“I-I, uh…”

Cutting him off, you throw yourself over the chairs to stand beside him. 

“I thought I was the only one in here.”

“No, yeah. I’m just sneaking around, looking at all the empty rooms. The dance was fun for a while, but I got bored.”

He gives you a light-hearted chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

Cute. 

You try to hold back your own chuckle. “I guess we had the same idea.”

“Yeah, I guess so!”

Looking away from his adorable smile, you look back up.

“Why did you fall from the ceiling by the way? Were you traveling through the vents?”

He cranes his neck up as well. “Venting?”

“Among Us?”

You blink, surprised at yourself. Where did that come from? You look back at the mysterious stranger, a small smile forming on your face.

“I’ve actually never played that game. Vents are just inherently funny now.”

He enthusiastically nods at you, walking around the chairs back into the aisle.

“I know, right? I was being kinda a sussy baka.”

He doubles over, laughing at his own stupid joke. It’s a little strange, you think to yourself, but endearing.

This dude was kind of a weirdo, but you find yourself becoming quite attached to him. You hadn’t introduced yourself yet, so you clear your throat a bit to get his attention.

“I’m Y/N.” You walk to the other end of the aisle. 

“Wait, you don’t recognize me?” He blinks up at you, his eyes almost sparkling with playfulness. 

“Uh…”

You do a good once over. He was wearing pretty plain-looking clothes, but he had plenty of accessories on. Earrings, wrist bands, the works. His face was cute, but unfamiliar.

“Sorry, no.” You shrug. “I’m bad with names.”

He chirps, sitting up. “Oh! Well then I am…Angelo?”

He watches your face, waiting for you to react. Surely you could tell that he was lying. Well, only half-lying. 

“Pleasure to meet you!” You give him a lazy smile and help him onto his feet. 

Mikey smiles back at you, a goofy excitement bubbling in his stomach. He was never particularly great at keeping secrets, but maybe your poor perception would last long enough for him to keep up the human charade. 

His excitement translates into a silly smile, his tooth gap peeking through.

You chuckle dryly and release his hand. “So, the ceiling?”

Finally, Mikey tries to look a little more calm. “Oh, right. I was up on the catwalk!” He points up at the top of the A/V booth.

You almost forgot the theater even had a catwalk. Your eyes travel up to the platform that stretches across the length of the theater. It was at least 20 feet high, and you feel yourself becoming nervous just by looking at it.

“How’d you…get up there?” You gulp.

“I climbed,” he smiles. “Here, I’ll show you!”

Mikey grabs your hand and leads you over to the hallway hidden behind the lighting room. There was a small staircase that the theater crew used to get around the room, and it led right to the start of the catwalk.

As you blindly follow him, you start to become a little trepidatious.

“W-Woah, I’ve never been up here before. The catwalk goes all the way to the stage.”

“It’s really small, barely big enough to hold one person.” Mikey places his hands on his hips, surveying the platform.

“…Someone could get really hurt if they weren’t careful.”

His voice drops a register, his serious tone sending a chill up your spine.

“Well, you’ve shown it to me. I’m just gonna—“

“C’MON, LET’S GO!”

In a flash, Mikey grabs you by the hand again and confidently starts to march out onto the catwalk. Instinctively, your limbs go stiff. You were literally frozen with fear. 

“I would prefer not to die on prom night, Angelo!”

Through gritted teeth, you strain against his hold. Why was he looking at you so cheerily, while you both were a story high? This guy was a madman!

“Hey, eyes on me! Eyes on me.” He coos, trying to ease your worry.

His friendly smile doesn’t waver, and he carefully lets go of your hand. Like a parent letting their child ride a bike on their own for the first time.

You put your hands to your side and stop. “How far are we?”

Mikey looks over your shoulder. “Like half-way to the end.”

The color drains from your face. You have to physically stop yourself from fainting, your legs going from stiff to lifeless in record time.

“Don’t worry, you’ve made it this far. Just a little further!”

“I can’t do it, it’s too much! This thing is ancient.” You stomp your foot against the metal platform, and you cringe when you hear the joints creak. 

“Just take it one step at a time. And if you fall, I’ll catch you.”

Mikey calmly takes a couple more steps back until he reaches the end of the catwalk. There was a ladder attached to the wall, leading down to the backstage area. It was so close, and yet so far. 

“How exactly are you gonna do that? Because I would be coming up with a plan if I were you…”

You slowly creep across the platform, screwing your eyes shut. Eventually you ease yourself onto your hands and knees, inching even slower. That was the only way you were going to get all the way across. 

Mikey eggs you on, clapping and cheering you across the catwalk.

“That’s it! You’re doing great!”

“Shut up!” You dig your fingernails into the metal. 

It seems like an eternity, but you feel your hands touch a new surface. It was still metal, but it felt a little more solid. As soon as you clear the catwalk, you launch yourself at Mikey. Wrapping your arms tightly around his midsection, you make him wheeze from the impact. 

“Hooo—!”

His breath makes a high-pitched whistle sound from his tooth gap. You squeeze him even more, pushing your head into his stomach. He almost sounds like a squeaky toy.

“That was adorable.” You shudder. 

“Aww!” He pats you gently on the top of your head. “You’re the one who’s being adorable.”

Your arms continue to constrict Mikey as he drags you both over to the ladder. It surprisingly held both you and Mikey’s weights with ease, and you start to wonder: how was this guy climbing down so well with you on him anyway? You look up, watching him marvel at the gel lights on the ceiling. 

“Dang, how are you so—?”

“I wish I could see a real-life play, I’d bring flowers to throw up to the actors and everything.” 

He ignores you, daydreaming to himself. Was he always this spacey?

Mikey drops to the floor, skipping the last rung. You hold onto him even tighter when you land. 

“Hey…” He smiles down at you. 

“What?”

You open your eyes and look back at his face. He was giving you the most tooth-rotting grin, a blush coloring his pinchable cheeks.

“O-Oh!” You sputter and finally let him go. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I like being held by you!”

Your head snaps away, face flushing from embarrassment. “Sure.”

Mikey chuckles teasingly at you. He’s never seen you so scared before, and you’ve never been this clingy either. Who could blame him for wanting to take advantage of the opportunity?

You sigh, rearranging your clothes a bit. “We can put on a play right now, if you want. I know where they keep all the costumes and props.”

“Wait— you serious?”

“Yeah.” You turn around. 

“On GOD?”

You nod quickly, moving closer to him. “ON GOD!”

Mikey and you break into hysterics and knock your heads together. It allows you to accidentally cuddle with him again. 

Not that you didn’t like being so close to Angelo, he didn’t seem like he was shy about being physically affectionate. But you can’t help but feel embarrassed. You were just still scared from being up so high and you needed someone to ground you. Yeah, that was it.

His voice rouses you from your thoughts.

“Lead the way! I wanna put on all the costumes.”

You cough, moving away from him. “Right over here…”

For the next hour or so, you two dig through the countless plastic bins of clothes in the dressing room. There were all kinds of costumes for different time periods and themes. Mikey and you cycled through them all. All the ones that would fit you anyway.

During your impromptu fashion show, you model the next outfit for Mikey. It was some kind of medieval gown, probably from a Shakespeare production. You spin around, letting the billowy dress flare out. You felt fabulous. 

“Holy shi— I mean…” Mikey balks at you, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “You look amazing!”

You pick up your many skirts and curtsy to him. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m serious, you look so pretty right now! That dress really suits you. A suit really suits you too…” 

Leaning back up, you meet Mikey’s bashful smile with your own. You were all of the sudden very thankful that Tyler ditched you tonight. There was nowhere you’d rather be than right here, with Angelo. 

“You’re cute.” You sigh, gazing at him. “I can’t really pick a favorite outfit, but your regular sweater looks nice. It’s so…chic.”

Mikey felt like he was about to explode. He can’t help but start to giggle and kick his legs, feeling positively overwhelmed with affection. 

“You better stop!” He gives you a shit-eating grin, waving a hand at you. 

You’re a little taken aback, not knowing whether to stop or go on. He looked even more cute now. 

“Fine.” You huff and turn around. 

“No, wait. I was kidding!”

You chuckle, feeling him hug you from behind. Even though Angelo was a little shorter than you, he made up for his height with strength and coordination. His dexterous fingers curl against the top of your stomach, tracing lightly against your dress. 

“Do you…actually want me to keep going?”

He immediately nods, his face pressed against your shoulder.

“Yes.”

Smiling, you get comfortable. This could be a while. Once you angle his body a little to the left, you’re ready to shower Mikey with praise. 

Not before a little preface, however.

“You better keep this between us. I will literally kill you if any of this gets out.”

“Cross my heart.” He nudges you with his head, begging you to go on.

“I don’t really know you…but you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide.”

“Quit! I mean, don’t quit! You’re making me—”

You place a hand on his mouth, shushing him. “Hush! I am speaking.”

Mikey gulps, his cheeks becoming red-hot. He follows your directions and goes silent.

“Good. Now, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re very charming. Your face isn’t bad either.”

You smirk, moving your palm to caress his cheek. “Jeez, your face is soft too. Where have you been all my life?”

Out of nowhere, you hear a low purring sound come out of Mikey. You feel his voice vibrate against your hand, and he melts into you. 

Woah. What is happening right now? You can’t help but smile even more at how pliant and subordinate he was being. 

“I mean it, you’re a heartbreaker! And, you’re super-talented to boot. Your art is crazy good.”

You snuck a peek at his sketchbook earlier while he was changing. The pages were filled with so many fun sketches, it made you even more endeared to your new friend. 

“Stooop…” Mikey smiles, his face almost pained from how bashful he felt. 

You rub your hands on his cheeks, your voice dripping with sweetness. “Noooo!”

Then, something strange happens within him. Whenever Mikey felt too overwhelmed or too emotional, he would always retreat into his shell. It was a talent that he had mastered over the years, being able to do it a lot easier than his brothers. 

Mikey doesn’t know what else to go but hide. Only, he doesn’t realize he doesn’t have a shell at the moment. In his haste, he just dips into his large sweater. 

You chuckle as you watch him pull his head and arms into his clothes, almost too embarrassed to be in the same room as you right now. 

“You remind me a lot of my friend Mikey, you know? You guys have really similar personalities.”

Mikey’s voice is muffled by the fabric of his thick sweater. “You don’t say?”

“And he actually has this exact same sweater. Probably just a coincidence.” You poke at the fabric, picking off a piece of lint. 

Mikey’s brow begins to glisten with sweat. Both from the heat of his clothes and the blood filling his cheeks. 

“But you wouldn’t know him. He’s this super cool crime fighter, works in the shadows. He’s very mysterious.”

Mikey starts to awkwardly waddle away from you while still hiding within this sweater. It’s a ridiculous sight, and you start to laugh. 

Then, he falls over onto the carpet with a thud. 

“W-Wow! Sounds like a fun guy!”

You bite the side of your mouth, stifling yourself. “He is. Don’t tell anyone, but I kinda…”

You get down on your knees and lean in close, whispering into his ear. The dress you were wearing digs into your body at the movement, the fabric straining. 

“…I kinda have a crush on him.”

Suddenly, Mikey pops back out. He rips off the cloaking broach on the breast of his sweater and he transforms back into his turtle form. 

He just couldn’t take it anymore! I wasn’t like he was lying to you, per se, but it felt like it. And you were being so uncharacteristically sweet with him right now, it was making his brain go all fuzzy. 

“I’M RIGHT HERE! IT WAS ME THE WHOLE TIME!”

You smirk. It seems the pressure was just too much for him.

“Pfft— What? No!”

“Wait. You…you knew it was me?”

Mikey sits up and places his hands on your face, mirroring you from before. His fingers were cool against your warm cheeks, and you leaned into them. 

“Not until I heard your churring. I honestly didn’t know it was you, but with hindsight, I think it was kind of obvious.”

Mikey eyes you up and down. “You serious?”

You think for a second, drawing your mouth into a fine line. 

“…Yes.”

Crying out in anguish, Mikey crashes his body into yours. The impact causes you both to topple over to the ground. 

“I can’t believe it! You didn’t know it was me, and then— Then you…!”

You blush, knowing he was trying to refer to your confession of love. 

It was mostly a joke. You knew it was Mikey at that point, but should you tell him that?

“I’m sorry! That wasn’t how you should say something like that…to someone who’s your friend” He frowns, feeling even more bad that he hid his true identity from you.

“I mean, I could try again.”

Mikey blinks up at you, his head lying on his arm. You were lying on your stomach with your head on your hands, and you made Mikey feel exhilarated. 

Without thinking, he answers.

“Yeah, you should. Just to see what happens.”

You smirk, leaning forward to push your nose against his snout.

“Maybe we should just skip past the confession and go straight to smooching.” You exhale.

Once your breath hits his face, Mikey instantly retreats back into his shell. You laugh heartily at him, holding onto the lip of his plastron.

“Y/N…” He groans, echoing within the depths of his shell.

You playfully knock your hand on his chest. “Hello? Anybody in there?” 

You hear him stir a bit, but he doesn’t come out. 

“Can I come in and join you? Got enough room for one more…” You try to push your head into the hole where his was. 

It was a big snug but you managed to squeeze in. You feel the top of your head knock against his. 

“Get out of here! I’m having a private moment!”

You chuckle and remove your head. Mikey was always really cute, but he was downright adorable when he was flustered.

“Okay, I’m leaving.” You smile.

Then, thinking that you’re far enough from his personal space, Mikey peeks his head out. His bald green head makes your heart flip. 

His eyes creep over the top of his plastron. “Were you really gonna kiss me? Or was that another lie?”

You lean forward and place a tiny kiss upon his head, humming against his brow. 

“I would never lie to you, Mike.”

Then, he comes fully out of his shell. Your kiss seems to have finally relaxed him enough to not want to hide anymore.

You smile and pull his head even closer to yours before planting a sweet kiss upon his lips. You were prepared to kiss Mikey for a while, your mouths fitting together almost too perfectly.

You try to roll a bit closer, pushing into his eager lips, before you hear a loud rip. 

The back of your dress had torn open. You sweat, feeling an awkward breeze hit your bare back. 

Mikey backs away from your face and gives you a cheeky smirk.

“Need some help with that?” 

You feel his clever hands creep up your side to caress your back.

For the first time tonight, you also feel like you want to hide. Where was an empty turtle shell when you really needed one?

“Shut up.” You blush, pressing your lips back onto his.

taglist: @saspas-corner

[boytouya]

SHAWTY U KNOW IM SENDING IN A REQ.

HELLO HELLO I REQUEST

DABI AND HIS DILF BF SUPPOSED TO HAVE A NIGHT OUT BUT COULDNT FIND A BABYSITTER FOR THE KIDS SO INSTEAD ITS FAMILY MOVIE NIGHT AND PIZZA AND CHINESE FOOD FOR DINNER WOO!!!!

𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩

Warning: Parenting

Dabi was supposed to pick you up to go out, but it seemed the universe had different plans. When you first met, Dabi’s introduction to you had changed his expectations for everyone else. A single father of two children, twins, with the most energy he’s ever seen. Dabi was never one for children, but something about seeing you kneel down to pick them up or give them piggyback rides made his chest warm with something he didn’t want to explain. You were the standard. You were his standard, and everyone should strive to be like you.

He knocks on your apartment door once, twice, a shocking third time, before swinging his arm back down to his side. Dabi wasn’t the type of man to worry about if his outfits fit any type of occasion, but was a leather jacket with ripped jeans too casual? What about his piercings? Should he have taken out his gauges? Or his eyebrow piercing? Fuck. He’s been to your house multiple times and yet he’s still nervous. Fuck.

The door creaks open in front of him only slightly, and there you are, in all your glory. He can only see half of your face, watching you peek out and speak through the door with a frown on your face.

“I’m sorry, just a second,” You shut the door with an apologetic smile, leaving Dabi in your hallway. It’d be a shame if someone walked out and saw him. The villain presses his ear to your hardwood door, listening to you scold someone with the softest voice he’s ever heard. He straightens himself up once he hears your footsteps returning, clearing his throat as you open the door. Wide this time. “The babysitter cancelled on me last minute, but I was hoping you’d still want to have a date here instead?”

“Sounds like you’re asking yourself that.” Dabi masks his nervousness before you can deny his response, striding into your clean (besides crayons and ‘experiments’ from your children) apartment and being swarmed by your kids.

“Thing One,” Dabi pats the top of your daughter’s head. “And Thing Two. How’re my favorite ankle biters?”

“Don’t call them that!” You laugh, shutting your apartment door and enveloping your children in a hug as they argue over who exactly gets to be Thing One. You don’t even think they understand the reference.

Dabi makes himself comfortable on your couch, plopping down and resting his free arm on the top of it like he owns the place. His manspread and smug smirk makes him look undeniably cliché, and you don’t hesitate to take a seat next to him, your kids following behind. They manage to squeeze right between you and Dabi, your son placing his finger through Dabi’s gauge until you tell him to stop.

“I’m bored, can we watch a movie? Oh, Oh! And can we get pizza?!” Your kids turn to Dabi instead of you. You want to interject, explain that it’s rude to interrupt two adults when they’re speaking, but the way your children are so comfortable around Dabi makes you fall silent. When you first met they were afraid of him, whispering to you about how his burns and staples were scary. Since then you paid extra attention to telling them it was never okay to think about people that way, and the more they spoke with the villain, the more they liked him.

“You gotta ask the Boss, buddy. But if it were up to me, you could watch all the movies you want.” There’s a glint in his eye as he looks over at you with a wink.

“And eat all the junk food we want too?!”

“More than you could ever imagine.”

“Dabi!” You swat his palm, watching him flex his hand into the position of a claw at you. His press against his rings. The sight of them makes you smile, he gave your son one of his rings the first time he commented on them. The clawed hand holds onto your wrist and snakes upwards, settling to lazily hold your hand as you squeeze it back. You missed having a relationship like this, but something tells you it’s different because it’s Dabi. “Stop lying to my kids.”

They groan, your daughter pulling out the remote to the TV from God knows where, surfing through channels and Apps until she settles for something scary, once again looking at Dabi for approval. You’re too busy scrolling through a delivery service to notice Dabi squeezing your hand, but your head perks up when the movie starts.

“What did you put on?” You ask after confirming your order.

“Paranormal activity.” Your daughter says simply, but you can tell she’s holding back a laugh.

“You know your brother is scared of scary movies!” As if on queue, your son starts screaming before anything even happens, pushing his face into your chest and flailing his arms around. It sends your daughter into a hysterical fit of laughter.

“Oh, no… Would hate to tell ‘em it’s all real.” Dabi snickers, your daughter giggling wildly as your son screams into your arm.

…

Your doorbell rings, the sound vibrating against the walls and into your ears. It sends your son into a fit of screams, he throws himself at Dabi, who’s laughing louder than you’ve ever heard him laugh.

You make a show of tiptoeing over to the door, placing a finger over your lips and opening it cautiously. It’s just a box of pizza with two bags of chinese food on top, but it sends your children into a fit of dramatic screams.

“The ghost left a gift for us.” Dabi smirks.

“The house is haunted!” Your daughter grabs a pillow and shields her face from the emptiness of the doorway.

“We’re all gonna die!” Your son screams as he pulls Dabi away from the door.

“No one’s dying,” You chuckle, shutting the door with your foot and moving over to the coffee table. You can hear Dabi groan at what you say next. “Well, maybe your hunger.”

You set up plates of food for your children, throwing a small bag of egg rolls to Dabi, who’s perked up on the couch. He pats the spot next to him, watching you move over to him with heavy plates occupying your hands.

“Daddy, can Dabi sleep over tonight?” Your children say in unison, their heads turning to face you as they chew loudly. You can tell they’ve been rehearsing the question, your son is bouncing in his seat as thrumming his fingers against the table. Dabi looks at you with just as much anticipation, slowly chewing along with the buzzing background of Paranormal Activity.

“Only if you two promise not to stay up too late.”

A smile spreads across Dabi’s face as he pulls you by his side, his staples pulling against his cheeks as your children rejoice and run to Dabi’s side. This must be was family truly feels like.

[floraljae]

hi bff 😁!! congrats on 500 💞💞💞💞💞💞

for um, rose coloured lenses

tropes i'd say are rivals to lovers is my most most fav trope. then bffs to lovers

um the groups either yangyang from wayv or hyunjin from skz as of now

okok so im a entp, aquarius, slytherin and i play sports, listen to music and dance in my free time. my friend tells me the ghost emoji is an emoji form of me sobbing. overuse 'yass' angst fics without happy ending make me cry. um, i like the outdoors. night > day.

my vividest memory is a nightmare i had when i was six which was basically a caterpillar crawling up my leg which freaked me out so bad i didn't sleep the rest of the night. bubblegum/cotton candy flavoured ice cream best imo hhelp um if u need anything else lmk!!

Note. Oml you're such a fun person :(( makes me wanna be irls with you huhu. I actually went haywire with this one because!!! Writing about Extroverts on dates are just the most fun thing EVER </3 hope you enjoy this hehe.

Ps. This is event was supposed to be me literally just planning a date and all. But yo girl got carries away and wrote a wholeass drabble UM.

You have the fairest share of spontaneous, truly unexpected dates, thanks to Hyunjin's friends. For he, a true perfecionist would never do something as reckless as to go on a date without a few things up his sleeve.

But at this party, unlike any other parties you'd ever been to-Hwang Hyunjin finds himself slowly losing all sense of perfection and rationality as a slower song (he swore he saw it in a movie) starts to play in the background.

He feels his heart go feral as you stare into his eyes, his hand on your hips burn as a small part of his brain screams at him to kiss you under the pink of lights (but he couldn't, for the love of God- not with his friends booing at how lovesick he looked every now and then). Hyunjin thinks it's a fever dream, that you cannot look anymore perfect than this. Or maybe you didn't have a limit. You were beautiful, bright to no end.

"Let’s go," Hyunjin asks feverishly. He was going crazy for sure. He knew he was. But then, he looks at your bemused face-an eyebrow quirked upwards as if asking "what now?"

He repeats himself, smiling. "Come on." And you oblige, letting the faux blond guide you to the exit.

It very truly, comes as a surprise when you are made to stand in front his car (alternatively his dad's old car, which he stole for the night). He unlocks the "junk" before sheepishly holding a door open for you.

"And what do we do now?" You ask, and Hyunjin suddenly wanted to 1. Run away from embarrassment or 2. Slap himself for wanting to run away from something he had landed himself into.

"For a date," he splutters. For someone who hears himself very well, Hwang Hyunjin knew he sounded like an idiot.

And there's a moment of silence. One heartbeat at best, but Hyunjin feels like it's been an eternity already. He waits for you to throw something at him or worse, hit him with a shoe for being such a cheapskate.

And he is surprised (for probably the nth time tonight) when none of that happens. Instead he is met with a hearty laugh- clear and perfectly audible in the lonely parking area. You help yourself inside, rambling about how funny he looked or something of that sort.

Relief washes over him. The voices inside his head die down but by bit. And all of a sudden, Hyunjin feels high-but then again, at the very same time, more sober than he has ever felt.

He makes his way to the driver's seat, grinning ear to ear. He hears you laugh, joke and grumble about anything and everything, interjects every now and then and laugh. You kiss him, fair and square, under the headlights of his dad's old car as the godforsaken radio plays your song that easily gets drowned under the loud music playing inside.

And by the time he drops you home, Hwang Hyunjin had found a new meaning of perfection.

[heroprose]

the regular;

a/n. well what do u know.... turns out i WILL be writing for jojo on this blog...... @jojosmilktea, that is!! hi jojo i was ur bnha spring event anon! and i’m SOOO sorry this is late RIP!!!

ship. shoto todoroki x reader

summary. bubble tea shop au. it’s true that he knows your order by heart, but he wishes he knew a little more.

//

to be quite honest, you didn’t know this bubble tea shop even existed in this part of the city. 

it certainly didn’t look the part, all pristine with white stone walls and flower boxes hooked onto the closed glass windows. no, in fact it looked a little too bougie for this gray high rise district and you suspect that if it were not for the current downpour, wherein great big rivulets of water are endlessly streaming down the streets, hipsters would populate this cafe’s space in no time.

you cannot blame them, of course. it’s certainly a nice building and totally instagram-worthy. but what attracts you to it is not the vintage stone walls nor the massive poster plastered on the inside of the glass window, with vibrant letters that spell out NEW SEASONAL FLAVORS! but instead, it’s the generous pink awning in front that’s saving you from the insidious downpour. 

you were supposed to do a little grocery shopping before heading home, damn it. technically, though, you could brave the rain for a while and shop for bread and eggs while sopping wet, but it’s a deeply unappealing idea. it doesn’t help that your go-to grocer with the terrific deals is three train stops away either and that your phone is dead, drained from too many rounds of crossy road on your commute long before the rain even began.

restless, you squint through the window of the shop inconspicuously and gape in horror as you realize it is just as cute inside as it is outside. from what you can tell, it’s set up like a little garden party, with metal outdoor chairs and circular tables and the tiles even have flower smiley face stickers on them. oh no. 

it is something of a relief you’ve only discovered this bubble tea shop now because any earlier would have you blowing your bank account on extra boba and grass jelly. and in this economy? not ideal.

still, your eyes waver to the poster again. rose milk tea? peach iced tea? the prices aren’t listed anywhere so you presume they must be absolutely monstrous. completely insane, probably, and jacked up immensely to compensate for the expenses gone in the decor alone and--

“we’re open, you know. you can come in.”

you pull away from the window hastily, letting your back bump into the metal back of chair. biting back a cry of pain, you eye the speaker head-to-toe before letting your shoulders slack. the black apron tied at his waist screams barista. actually, everything about this dude screams barista, from the rolled up sleeves to the vaguely disheveled collar. even the watch on his wrist-- woah. is that a limited edition tag heuer watch? you blanch a little.

he grips the broom with both hands and gestures with the jerk of his chin to the door. “you can come in,” he repeats. his bangs flutter about his forehead thanks to the gusts of wind and it’s a bit mesmerizing to see the red and white flutter like that. 

“oh,” you say, desperate to recompose yourself as you pretend you weren’t wringing out droplets of water from your clothing just minutes before. “it’s okay, thank you. i’m just waiting for the rain to pass.”

the barista opens his mouth but before he can speak, a loud clap of thunder zips through you and goosebumps erupt across the expanse of your skin. with ears ringing, you wince and the tag heuer-wearing fellow only watches. you purse your lips, glancing from him. to the onslaught of rain, to finally the door. 

well. so much for staying outside. wordlessly, he pulls the door open for you and you oblige quietly, mumbling a small word of thanks as you pass him.

unsurprisingly, the shop is wholly vacant, save for him, the boy who follows you in, and another barista behind the counter, who leans against the table behind him with arms crossed. the radio is on but it’s turned down so low that it might as well be off.

it would be painful to loiter in this shop for an hour or so without buying anything, so begrudgingly, you pull out your wallet and pray to whatever higher deity up there that you won’t get hooked on their drinks and subsequently, their freakish prices. you’ve got a budget, for goodness sake. 

when you step to the counter, the barista that met you outside sets his broom aside to meet you on the other side. “what would you like?” he asks automatically, with the tilt of his head. you glance over the menu above his head despite knowing your answer deep inside your heart.

“taro milk tea, please,” you say, bringing your gaze back to him. a trickle of rainwater slides down the curve of his cheek and you have to tear your gaze away. “medium, with boba. and extra sugar too.”

“will that be it?”

“yes,” you reply with your eyes downcast, carefully deciding on whether to use cash or credit. maybe you can use some of your spare coins this time.

his gold name tag says “shoto,” and it gleams even in your peripheral vision as he nods and turns to the other barista with the spiky hair who stands a few ways’ away and glowers a bit. 

“katsuki,” says shoto. “one medium taro milk tea with--”

“yeah, yeah,” says the other barista snappishly. “i heard. i’m literally right here.” he pulls away from the table and exits to the back forcefully and you two watch him in relative silence. a guitar-heavy shawn mendes song plays in the background; played too softly for you to determine which one though.

shoto’s gaze swivels back to you, undisturbed by the attitude his coworker just presented and so you do your best to remain indifferent as well. it is similarly pure irony to have such a gentle cafe hosted by such personalities. 

“name?” he simply asks and you tell him, not bothering to question why that was still necessary if you were the only customer in the entire shop. 

and it is equally strange that after katsuki returns with your drink, about to hand it to you, shoto acts to intercepts with an extended hand to take the cup away.

“what are you doing?” says katsuki incredulously, drawing back.

shoto presents the sticker with the order printed on it in the air. “i need to put this on.”

“seriously? it’s not like you could hand it to the wrong person,” he mutters, but lets shoto tease it out of his hand before promptly returning to the kitchen again, letting the doors swing behind him. you refrain from smiling too wide as shoto carefully presses the sticker onto the cup behind the counter with an unexpectedly concentrated expression on his face.

when he utters your name to catch your attention, shoto slides your drink over to you, not letting go until your fingers accidentally brush over his. “here you go.”

“thank you,” you say brightly, shaking it for good measure. the ice clinks distract you momentarily from the noise of rain hitting concrete. the cream and purple taro swirl together brilliantly.

he nods, turning away to take a cleaning rag into his hands. shoto wipes at the counter meticulously, every once in a while swiping a smudge with his fingertips to evaluate his work. the quiet is only periodically punctured by the clap of thunder and when shawn mendes starts belting out the background adlibs via the radio.

“when do you think the rain will let up?” you muse absentmindedly, fingers drumming the raised counter as you push along your bubble tea and dig around the container for a straw of your favorite color. “not for long, i hope.”

shoto blinks, glancing up. “i heard it’ll last all through the night.”

steely dread pools at the bottom of your stomach. “no!” you gasp, confronting shoto. “really? i don’t have an umbrella or anything.” you didn’t hear anything of the sort, but then again, you haven’t checked the forecast since this morning. maybe you can wave down a cab or something. you let out a brief laugh of disbelief that rapidly devolves into a groan. “man. that stinks.”

he looks at you sympathetically, watching you deftly pierce the plastic seal top of your milk tea with more force than necessary. 

you bring the straw to your mouth, sipping quietly as you think of your next line of action. the richness is disturbingly good and you’re saddened to know that you’ll be returning in the future, rain or no rain. 

taking a seat in a metal chair, you finally give the shop a thorough glance over. with all the bright lights and pale wallpaper plastered with colorful stickers. above you, the ceiling vents buzz quietly. the whole shop is just--

“dazzling,” you murmur after several minutes, submitting to its glamour. “everything’s so pretty here.” the interior designer really went ham here and it shows. you fish your phone out of your slightly damp pocket and wipe at the screen with a sigh. you’d even take a photo if you could.

unbeknownst to you, shoto had left the counter upfront and is wiping down a table nearby as you speak. “thank you,” he says and you jolt, head snapping towards his direction. “we do our best to be presentable and comfortable.”

“full marks on both then,” you say breezily and a ghost of a smile teases at his lips before he walks away to the backroom. 

he’s amused. did he think you were funny? your ears start to warm up a little and you drain your milk tea faster. in any case, it’s best that you brave the storm sooner than later. 

there’s little doubt that the rain won’t be stopping any time soon and it would really be the icing on the cake if you not only got stuck in a thunderstorm but fell ill as well. you’ve realized, from all your years of life, that people don’t appreciate their functional nostrils until they get stuffed. 

and you don’t know how much time passes in that cafe with the absence of clocks and your phone, but after catching yourself glancing over at shoto for the fifth time, wondering if you can make him smile like that again, you finally think that enough is enough. your chewing speeds up. 

then you stand up, careful to not let the metal feet scrape the tiles. should you just book it, through the rain? or should you stand under the awning a little longer, hoping the rare cab will notice your helpless self and save you? as you mull these thoughts over, you toss the cup into the bin and wipe your hands with a spare napkin, getting rid of the condensation.

“wait.” 

shoto’s calm voice makes you whirl around yet again.

as he walks closer, you notice that he’s gripping something in his hand and you can only bring yourself to stare as he presents it to you.

“take it,” he says. “this is my umbrella.”

your heart stutters for a second. “huh? no, i couldn’t,” you say hastily, dismissing him with a wave. “that’s really kind of you though, thank you.”

“but you said you didn’t have one.”

you give him a quizzical look. “but if i take yours, then you don’t have one.”

“katsuki-- um, the other person who works here-- lives near me. we commute together sometimes. so please,” he says, gesturing the closed umbrella.  you wrap your fingers around the clear plastic gingerly to his coaxing. “take it.” 

tears nearly prick your eyes as you lean over to pat him on the arm graciously. he’s more alarmed than anything else as you do, silently wide-eyed, and is it only then that you notice his eyes are different colors. “thanks, shoto. i’ll be back tomorrow to return it then. i promise!”

he gives you a quick nod. “i don’t work tomorrow. i’ll be here all weekend though.” 

“alright, shoto. i’ll see you on the weekend.”

“stay safe.”

you’re already turning away and pushing open the door before you see the flicker of a smile pass over his visage again.

/

“you gave away your umbrella?” says katsuki after the cafe closes later that evening. his eyes narrow down at his fellow coworker sharply. “to a damn customer?”

“it’ll get returned,” assures shoto. his upper arm is warm where you had touched him, and his hand hovers over it for a second before he shrugs on his jacket.

“that’s not the point,” his coworker seethes, angrily hanging up his apron. “my car is two blocks over and i was relying on you to do your part in bringing the umbrella. idiot!”

ah.

/

you come back that sunny weekend, with shoto’s trusty transparent umbrella in hand... as well as the weekend after. and the weekend after that. sans the excuse of the umbrella, of course.

when it is katsuki that greets you at the counter, he does little to hide his disapproval of your order; grunting when you greet him with a cheerful “hi katsuki!” and grimacing each time when you smile and add, “with extra sugar!” to your order.

“you’re aware of how much sugar is already in this stuff, right?” he tells you. 

“i’m here for a good time, not a long time,” you reply. “and are you really supposed to be asking me that? as someone who works here?”

katsuki scoffs and wordlessly punches your order in anyway. his brew, however, is immaculate without fail so you don’t question his tactics.

but when it is shoto... he greets you warmly, stretching the conversation by asking about how you are and about your day.

“the regular?” he eventually asks after several weeks of you making the same order as the last. 

you smile. “the regular.”

sometimes, you loiter near the counter when it’s not busy. you learn, with some semblance of glee, that shoto is a student like yourself and he only works part-time-- the rainy afternoon you met him on had been a shift he was covering for someone else. other times all you can do is take your drink and wave him goodbye.

even on the extremely busy days where you cannot even find a vacant seat, there are brief seconds where you think of leaning against the wall and enjoying the atmosphere. it is a startling realization, how desperate you want to linger in his presence. 

your affection is making you ill. ugh, and being bloated is not a good look on you either.

drinking taro milk tea at competitor bubble tea shops don’t even sate you. it’s always too watery, too thin; the flavors rounding off as bitter, over brewed tea. but you drink them to wean yourself off. you should probably stop drinking them altogether though.

some time passes before you can find it in yourself to return. the storefront is as pretty as it always is whenever you pass it by on your commute.

“hey, how are you? have you been alright?” asks shoto right off the bat, dropping his washrag haphazardly beside the sink when you find yourself at the counter again after the weeks of hearty self-restraint.

his concern is so vivid it unnerves you. it’s a funny and ill-placed nervous look on his face, eyebrows pulled tense. “i’m fine,” you say, “how have you been?”

“i’m well,” shoto says. “and... that’s good. it’s been a while. i thought you might have started getting your milk tea fix from somewhere else.” he pauses. “have you?”

his sincerity makes you throw your head back and laugh, but your stomach gurgles at the recollection of drinking so many subpar taro milk teas. “never,” you tell him finally. “i like this place too much. and the people here too.”

“i see.” shoto’s smile is bright this time, eyes so soft even as he speaks. “the regular then?”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, your own gaze crinkling up. “you know me so well, shoto.”

/

“quit freakin’ flirting at the counter,” snaps katsuki, mopping the floor vigorously. “do that shit when you’re not at work, icy-hot. it’s disgusting that i have to stand here and listen to you two.”

shoto frowns. “it’s not flirting. we have to be kind to customers.” he calls from the kitchen.

“kindness is you giving extra napkins, not asking if they’ve been going to other bubble tea shops. as if.”

“we’re... just friends then.”

“just friends, my ass. what, you think that extra sugar ass sweet tooth loser came in every week alone just to get tea? you know what...” katsuki’s peeved grumbles trail off until they’re no longer comprehensible.

shoto just ponders on this as he drains the sink.

/

“here,” says katsuki one saturday afternoon. “take it. and go.” he pushes the purple drink into your hand and wipes his own hand on his apron. “extra sugar. don’t blame me when your teeth fall out.”

“damn,” you say, although you are hardly taken aback by his crudeness anymore. “but i will. i’ve got a lot to do today, so i can’t stay and chat. bye guys!”

“take care,” says shoto just as katsuki says, “don’t care, didn’t ask.”

(when you wave goodbye, however, you are pleased to see that they both reciprocate kindly.)

by the time you eventually take a sip, you’re already on your way to the rail to get to your favorite grocery store. today, it’s buy one get one free bags of potatoes so you know you’ll be stocking up this time.

mindlessly, you pierce the top with your straw, careful to aim for the center. you give it a stir before taking a sip, the familiar creaminess filling your mouth. 

although it’s... different, somehow. 

sweeter, you think. did katsuki actually overload it with sugar this time? seemed like a weird prank to pull. perhaps he was teaching you a lesson but considering that he hasn’t been fired yet indicates that this was an infrequent occurrence. hopefully. 

chewing the boba thoughtfully, you pull the cup away in order to squint at the dark text printed on the sticker. it’s the same as you always say it: a medium, iced, taro milk tea, with boba and 25% extra--

the word “sugar” is scrawled over with black ink, although not deliberately it seems. it’s just covered up with a slew of numbers and letters written unbelievably neat in spite of being on a cylindrical cup and you nearly hack up a black clump of sugary boba onto the concrete sidewalk. 

but nevertheless, you force it down to look at the order again, more closely this time.

they’re numbers, and your heart stutters in your chest at the realization there’s just enough to be a phone number; followed by a name that you only ever saw emblazoned on a gold name tag.

you want to commit the numbers to memory, but it’s undeniably hard to concentrate. not when shoto’s gentle smile is on the forefront of your brain and  when big, fat droplets of water are hitting your forehead with incredible force. 

you glance up at the swirling, ashen clouds above you, bloated and expecting. an uncomfortable feeling crawls up your spine at the realization that you’ve forgotten your umbrella at home today too. 

oh god. not again.

/

“i can’t believe you actually wrote your number on my cup today... very smooth, shoto.”

there’s a beat before shoto replies, his voice tinny and distant over the phone. “actually, i did that the first day you came in-- when it was raining. i figured you didn’t notice or you were rejecting me.”

“oh. so, wait-- you did it twice then? that day and today?”

“no,” says shoto. “just that day.”

“then who--” you stop yourself.

outside your window, a clap of thunder shakes the sky. and the epiphany that follows renders you both silent.

[amomentsescape]

Even though Xavier and Montana had now a better life than the one they live in the 80's thanks to Michael and Tony. They still wanted to by part of the team, even tought they didnt have any superpower or skills to fight. They wanted to be heroes, help the less fortunate and MAYBE kill bad guys in the process. Of course, Michael coulfn't refuse their suggestion. He was the leader after all.

Request: Peter, Xavier and Montana would DEFINITELY be that COMEDIC and awesome trio. Their chemistry would be on FIRE. Xav and Tana telling him about the best artists, movies of the 80's and Peter teaching them the new trends of the 21th century. And still annoying him with the fact that he's still a virgin and even call him "spidey virgin"

Request: Imagine this (Yes, this is an ask, girl) After Tony gave the gang a new ID, Michael offers them to be part of the Avengers team. Xavier and Montana were the ones who LOVE the idea. Because they had also make so many mistakes in their lifes and wanted a second chance. They were trained by Nat (Yes, she ALSO survive don't ask how) and then they were giving their frist missions and it was amazing.

A/N: I was incredibly stupid and decided that deleting the original requests would be a better idea than sending each requester the link to this story. I hope everyone who put in their request sees this.

Beginning (Avenger! Michael, Xavier, Montana)

“Guys,” Peter sighed into his palms. He was trying desperately to hide the blush forming on his cheeks.

“A what?! You’re a what?!” Montana practically screamed back.

Xavier was trying, and failing, at not choking on his soda in the background.

“In my defense, I’m still in high school.”

Although their teasing was obviously annoying the boy, he couldn’t help but smile through the situation.

“I lost my virginity when I was 16!” Xavier finally spoke out. Montana and him were still dying of all the laughter.

Peter simply shook his head and shoved a fry in his mouth.

Montana and Xavier would have never thought that their lives would come to this. Besides the obvious fact that they would have been in their 50′s by now (assuming they weren’t horribly murdered at a haunted camp). They still wouldn’t have been able to comprehend this life.

Superheroes to them were comics. They were fictional movies used for entertainment and nothing more. Surely they didn’t exist. But after being saved by Michael and Tony, they realized that there was much more to this world than they had thought. (Being ghosts for a few decades may have also influenced that as well, but they don’t like to talk about it). 

After months of genuine friendship with the ex-antichrist, they couldn’t help but desire to be apart of such a surreal family. Not only did the idea of being heroes enlighten them, but they also felt that they owed it to the people.

Once they were killed at that damned camp, they became just as bad as their murderers. They found themselves harming and killing whoever they could get their hands on in hopes of filling a void that wouldn’t stay satisfied. They soon realized that this decision was only making matters worse. And although they stopped their rampage a long time ago, they never felt like they had redeemed themselves.

They knew that they had to make amends with their own inner demons, just as Michael once had. For him, that was joining the Avenger family. And to them, that meant the same thing.

They still remember that day so clearly in their minds. They can still feel how nervous they were while standing outside of Michael’s room, preparing to receive any and all responses that could have existed in that moment.

Before they had even knocked however, Michael was standing in the doorway, his hand on the door that had suddenly flew open.

“For as long as we’ve been friends, I would have thought you two would know better,” Michael said. His tone came off seriously, but there was a playful twinkle in his eye, revealing that he was simply joking with them. “I could feel you guys standing outside my room for the last 10 minutes.”

Montana and Xavier shared a look before turning back towards Michael. They couldn’t help to feel a little embarrassed. Of course he knew they were there. He was Michael Langdon after all. 

Montana decided that the tension was enough. She practically let the question fall from her lips before Xavier even had time to ask himself.

Instead of hearing the rejection that they had expected from him, Michael simply smiled at them.

“Well, it’s about time you two asked,” he responded jokingly.

And that had been the start of something good for all of them.

The day that they got to meet the rest of the Avengers was one that they had only dreamt would be a reality.

Everyone was incredibly nice to them, opening their arms up for the two newest members of the family.

Montana tried to hold back her giggle at the ogling Xavier, but she couldn’t help but feel the same overwhelming emotions. She was here. They were here. Their best friend was right beside them, and now they had the family they always wanted.

It only took a couple weeks to find their places in the new group. And now here they were, sitting across the table from the Spiderman, teasing him relentlessly for being so innocent. 

“Leave the poor boy alone,” a voice finally said, cutting off their loud laughter.

Michael stood on the other side of the room, trying to hide the smile that was playing on his lips.

Peter mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to him. He knew that Xavier and Montana were just teasing, but he swore that his face was going to burn off if they had kept it up any longer.

“I need you two to come with me. We have important matters to discuss,” Michael spoke again.

The two shared a brief look of excitement before getting up from their seats. Before they had fully left the room however, Montana turned back around and looked at Peter.

“We’ll see you later, Spidey Virgin.”

Xavier finally broke and started laughing ridiculously hard, grabbing at Montana’s arm for support.

Peter let out an annoyed groan but couldn’t help the small chuckle making its way out of his mouth.

Michael sighed through his smiling lips and practically dragged his two friends out of the room before they died from laughing.

It took a while, but Michael eventually got them to the next room, joining Natasha by her desk.

In that moment, they knew that what they were called in for was important.

The plans and documents for their first mission was handed to them, and they had to literally hold each other down to prevent themselves from screaming in excitement.

Michael explained to them that before the mission, they had to be trained. Although they had a set routine made out for them already, their training for this particular mission was going to have to be even more rigorous. 

He also explained that they would be training with Natasha, Michael overseeing that everything would be going as planned.

This began almost immediately, giving them only a little bit of time to change into their uniforms and meet in the training room. 

“You’re going to want your feet further apart,” Natasha critiqued. She used her wooden baton to tap on Xavier’s calf, enforcing her point.

He looked up at her and couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“Whatever you say, Sweetheart.”

Natasha quirked up an eyebrow and was quick to twist the baton by his leg, hitting him with enough pressure to knock him on his back.

“And don’t let yourself get distracted, Sweetheart,” she spoke smoothly, offering Xavier a slight smirk.

“Alright. Shall we continue?” 

In a matter of days, Montana and Xavier found themselves out on their mission, having Michael, Natasha, and Peter by their sides.

As they walked, Natasha and Michael kept giving each other glances. They felt like parents trying to keep their children in line.

Peter, Montana, and Xavier followed closely behind them, arguing over every new topic that was brought up.

“But if it’s K-Pop, then why is it in the U S freaking A?”

Peter let out an annoyed groan at Xavier.

“It’s just really popular! And it’s not even that bad!”

Montana furrowed her brows at this response.

“Not even that bad?! You can’t even understand them!” she said a little too loudly.

Natasha and Michael spun around, both shushing them like children in a library.

“Keep it down!” Natasha whisper shouted. 

“We’re not even there yet!” Montana whisper shouted back.

Natasha simply nodded her head to the side, causing the group to look over and see all the destruction that occurred down the street. 

A shadowed being floated above the rubble, looking directly at them.

“Let the show begin,” Xavier said confidently, his grip tightening around his daggers.

And so it did. 

This battle would be the beginning of redemption, and of a new life as a family.

[go-bonkers-go-foolish]

highlights of The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals

this is gonna be a long one. spoilers ahead.

the CHOREOGRAPHY

not to mention the special effects, the team Went Off for this one

lauren lopez’s OUTFIT....,,,,,, im gay

lauren lopez in general

“where the Fuck is he”

mariel’s already kicking so much ass and it’s literally the first TWO MINUTES MA’AM CALM DOWN

“the touring production OF M A M M A  M I A’

‘the L A T T E H O T T I E as she’s knownthroughouttheland” jesus god joey

“oh nooooooo so meeeeean” *flips guy off*

who the fuck organized these quick changes man they’re killer

‘i’m on Vocal Rest’ “what??” “I’M ON VOCAL---”

“she hired all her theatre friends and they will not S H U T  T H E  F U C K U P P P P” 

“do you know how much of that money ACTUALLY GOES to the turtles???” “well none of it i just made that up”

“i NEVER miss a musical and if anyone thinks that makes me LESS of a man they can talk to my fUCKING GUN”

lauren and joey smoking weed

“I MAY NOT HAVE A HOOOOOOMEEEE”

fr though when does this soundtrack drop on spotify

“ok..... ok............ OK...... okay.....*behind the set* ok.......”

“he said he was coming home late last night...” “HE DIDN’T COME HOME AT ALL! .......i dunno i wasn’t there.”

*musical theatre voice* “So whAt dO yOU WanT, pAuL???”

*singing beautifully* “i want you to choke me..........while i jerk off.........”

“HELLO?????? PLEASE G O D, I JUST WANT A BLACK COFFEE”

The Tip Song™

it’s not like i already learned the choreo to it or anything

A N D  W E ‘ L L  B R I N G  I T  R I G H T  U P

“I was in BRIGADOOOOON in high school and i FUCKIN’ KILLED IT”

“fucKING GROSS”

the (honestly downright chilling) Tip Song Reprise

on that one bit that’s like “jack, jaCK, jACK, JACK...”

man i got CHILLS

“whose decision was it to line an alleyway with SHRUBS” *walking through audience*

think about the I M P L I C A T I O N S

*bill jumping out of a trash can* “NO IT’S NOT ALL RIGHT PAUL”

“we were just at beanie’s---”  *ted, jumping out of the trash can*: “YOU DIDN’T INVITE ME!!!???”

“uhh, fuck you?”

“she’s the....the barista, from beanie’s? ya know, the.......l a t t e h o t t i e .....” *regrets so hard he astral projects into another dimension*

*soothing tone* “we have to get out of downtown okay? downtown is FUCKED.”

“we cannot split up, ok? i am a presbyterian, i am not gonna die in your dirty-ass methodist church.”

“who is it?!”  “professor hidgins???”  “don’t lie to me, whoever you are. I’M professor hidgins.”

“this is paul, and....them.”

“i theorized this exact scenario THIRTY YEARS AGO”

“Emma!! what does this look like to you?” “i dunno, some kind of blue...shit???”

“EXACTLY! what the Fuck™ is this Shit????”

“ted,,,you’re such a Horny Bastard” *dramatic slow motion gasps*

ted and charlotte really just decided to Fuck right there didn’t they

the audience screaming when ted and charlotte decided to Fuck right there

*sam suddenly rises from the dead* “CHARLOTTEEEE” *charlotte screams*

“now, i’m gonna free up your heart, baby...” (proceeds to LITERALLY RIP OUT INTESTINES)

that short bit where he’s holding charlotte bridal-style with all the guts and shit...little shop of horrors WHOMST

“I AM GONNA......KICK YOUR HEAD.”

“show me that rOuNDhOusE”

emma’s monologue about her sister...holy shit.

“we hated you guys.” “we hated ourselves! :D”

“it is time.....TO DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANCE”

“you killed charlotte!” “i shot a charlaTAN!”

the attempt at singing moana

bill quietly singing “circle of life” in the background

whoever wrote these monologues is going off too holy SHIT man

“i will NEVER...be in a FUCKING musical.”

“...and suddenly, i’m defending Grace Chastity of all people!”

bill’s devotion to his daughter actually kills me he deserved so much better

“did you know that i wanted to live with you? but when you needed to fight, you gave her that too.” OUCH.

“i’m not gonna let you die.” *bill immediately gets shot*

the army sound effects

“Special unit P-E-I-P, we call it PEIP.” “i’ve never heard of you guys.” “and you never will. not a PEIP.”

“do you like coffee, son?”   “yes sir”   “Do you like musicals, son?”   “no sir”   “...now that’s a goddamn red-blooded american *aggressive salute*”

“its 2018.......”

“my first love was..and always will be..*reveals keyboard* M U S I C A L  T H E A T R E!!!!” 

a moment of appreciation for the most dramatic seat ever taken at a keyboard

SHOW STOPPING NUMBER!!!!!

“....mind if i give you the pitch?” “we don’t have time---” “fuckin’ GO FOR IT!”

Working Boys™

“...........aNd cHaD” 

TED’S SO INTO THIS GODDAMN PITCH SJBKHJHD

F I V E  O  C L O C K  C A N T  C O M E  S O O N  E N O U G H

“should I take this chair????”

“BYE! Fuuuuuuuuck that...”

helicopter acting™

“F U C K  Y O U,  H A T C H E T F I E L D!!!!!” me too lauren

Zoey’s (somehow even creepier) reprise of the tip song

the Kiss Attempt

“watch out paul...he might kick your head.”

“NEVEEEEER” 

jon’s acting during “let it out” was genuinely creepy, i LOVED  IT

when the music started for “inevitable” my heart fucking DROPPED

“emma, do you believe in ghosts?” CHILLS, man. chills.

the reprise of every song in the show in the middle of “inevitable”

the KICKLINE

emma screaming during said kickline

“the apotheosis is upon UUUUUUUSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!”

lauren staying in character during curtain call

“WHY ARE YOU CLAPPING????”

basically The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals is a godsend and you all need to watch it Now okay thank you

[bluekyun]

A Touch of Comfort 3.

Pairing: Y O O N G I x R E A D E R

Genre: S M U T

Word Count: 2.362

Summary: “I think I’m going blind from your beauty.”

DRABBLE COLLECTION

Despite losing all patience with your best friend over the insinuation that you need a boyfriend before you die alone, you realize as more time passes that your blind date is quite impressive. He is no Casanova, but even in an alternate universe, you are certain that someone of that caliber wouldn’t even be close to your type. At first you were unsure if the man sitting before you would even be a good match, as his silent and slightly standoffish demeanor put you off at first. Compared to your positive and more bubbly personality, you figured that the match was an inevitable failure, but as both of you continued to talk, exchanging slight touches underneath the dining table, you realize that you have far more chemistry than you ever could have anticipated. Neither of you seem to notice how quickly time goes by until the entire restaurant nearly clears out of all its occupants.

 “We should probably leave before they decide to kick us out.” You suggest, flattening down your skirt and biting your bottom lip.

“Yeah.” Standing up from his chair, he walks beside you, offering his hand to help you stand. All you can do is smile, the sudden act of chivalry only forging goosebumps across your bare arms, his rough fingertips only sending shockwaves to your core. Just from the rough grasp he has on you, ideas begin to bombard your mind, scenarios of how he would be in bed as well as how his hands might feel in other places. Normally, you aren’t this promiscuous, but there is something about him that you find enchanting, a whisper begging you to latch onto him for dear life, sucking out his soul until he is nothing more than a stuttering mess between your legs.

 Just that image, now burned into the underside of your eyelids, is more than enough to begin the inevitable pool that would be your underwear, and as you walk out the restaurant doors, the friction, or more so lack of, begins to get to you.

 “I knew I was attractive, but you really know how to make a guy feel good about himself.”

 Glancing up, you watch as the lust glazes over his eyes, his focus skipping between your face and your legs. That’s when you notice the subconscious rubbing of your thighs, something you hadn’t realized you were doing until he so subtly pointed it out. Rolling your eyes, you try to dismiss his comment, instead focusing on keeping your legs apart so that just maybe you won’t fall victim to your own desires.

 But how long would that last?

 Opening the car door, you slide into the passenger seat of his black sedan, the leather seats and new car smell only acting as an aphrodisiac, as money has always been your biggest kink. It doesn’t solely decide your taste in men, but you would be lying if you didn’t acknowledge that it is indeed a preference of yours.

 With him situated in the driver’s seat, he shifts the beauty into drive, leaving the music to lull in the background. Neither of you say a word, as much of the conversation was maxed out over dinner, but even in the silence, you still feel the way his words sink into your skin, every hair standing on end as if every syllable is whispered directly into your ear.

Resting your head against the cool glass, you stare deeply into the night, etching out the glow of the crescent moon as it effortlessly blends into the dark sky. The air is peaceful, nothing more than a few cars on the road as they return home after their late-night escapades. You, too, are part of this pack, but you desperately wish you weren’t. You aren’t ready to end the day. All that preoccupies your mind is the way his lips moved every time he said a word, or the way he would present a sly half-assed smile whenever the waiter came around to check on you. Every small move he made, the way he held his silverware, how he sipped his drink, and especially the way he licked his lips every so often god it is all eating away at your resolve quickly, and more than anything you just want his lips on your own.

 The moment you feel a warm hand land upon the flesh of your thigh, you look over to see a cocky smile on his face, his vision focused entirely on the road ahead but his mind clearly elsewhere. You both seem to be on the same wavelength, but it is not in you to act so easy (despite wishing you would cave just this once) so instead, you return back to the window, the endless trees seeming more like nothing as you are completely distracted by the way his fingers begin to delicately tap against your skin.

 At first, he begins slow, tapping each finger in succession, but when he notices that you have yet to give him a response, he turns it up a notch. The tapping progresses to rubbing, his fingertips etching circles as your skin ignites in their path, but still, you are not ready to show the effect he has on you. For a short period, he stays like this, a collection of figure eights, circles, and at one point you’re almost certain he wrote fuck me on the inside of your leg, and although you find it quite amusing and absolutely hot, you decide to see what other ideas he might have for you.

 After all, you love to play games.

 In the reflection of the window, you notice the way he bites his lips, a clear sign of contemplation as he prepares his next test. You expect something along the lines of squeezing, petting, or even dirty words, but of course he is a man of many surprises.

 Within an instant, his fingers are against your core, nothing but the thin layer of your panties keeping him from the wet mess that is hidden underneath.

 “So wet for me already, baby?” The smirk on his face only makes you want to smack him, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t want it.

 In your mind, you know you should stay stoic, but considering that between the both of you, he is in the most vulnerable and unfortunate position, you decide to take advantage of this golden opportunity. With one hand gripping onto his arm, you desperately grind into his palm, allowing every sigh and moan to fall from your lips unhindered. Leaning your head back, you watch from the corner of your eye as his jaw drops in shock, your boldness only throwing him off slightly until he regains composure.

 For a while he lets you use his arm as a toy, the streaks of arousal on his skin only fueling his ego and desire, his boner only aching inside the confines of his slacks. He wants nothing more than to see you reach your high simply from using him like this, but he also can’t dismiss the thought of how you might feel around his hardened dick, so tight and wet until you’re doing nothing but screaming his name.

 He can’t wait any longer.

 “Uh… Yoongi. You’re swerving quite a bit there.”

 Returning to reality, he realizes that his death grip on the steering wheel has done little to keep the car in a straight line, as he is now caught in the middle of two lanes going at least ten over the speed limit. Releasing his arm, you allow him to take control of the vehicle once more, but when you see his arm glistening from your moment of fun, you feel a sense of pride. This will be his downfall, and you know already that he is the kind of man who cannot resist a sight such as that.

 When he pulls over on the side of the road, you let out a small chuckle at his impatience and utter insanity. He is so desperate for you that he would rather fuck in the middle of nowhere than wait to get home so he can ravish you on the bed.

 “Get in the back. Now.” The gruffness of his voice sends another wave of electricity, more arousal pooling at your entrance by his sheer dominance.

 Doing as you’re told, you climb over the middle compartment into the spacious back and wait patiently as he removes his seatbelt. Climbing over, he joins you, and the moment you are within reach, he has a strong hold on your waist.

 “Take off your shirt.” You comply without question, removing the garment until you are left sitting in your baby blue bra.

 For a moment he doesn’t say much of anything, instead staring and fluttering his eyelashes as he scans you from top to bottom.

 “I think I’m going blind from your beauty.”

 Those words fall from his tongue effortlessly, almost as if he never meant to say them at all, but it doesn’t stop the pink from appearing on your cheeks, the raw compliment only leaving you speechless and filled with warmth.

 Using one hand, he unbuckles his belt, removing his hardened member from the depths of his pants. The head is throbbing and already dripping with precum, the veins apparent even in the darkness.

 “Come here…” His voice is nothing more than a whisper, his prior demeanor now lost in the wind as he looks at you fondly. Something within him switched, the persona no longer present as he drops the walls between you and his very soul.

 It’s not often that someone is able to see this side of him, the part of him that cares deeply for others and loves with his whole heart, and although he keeps that side reserved for the ones who become solidified in his life, there is something about you that he cannot ignore, the sense of comfort and attraction he feels unlike anything he’s ever experienced.

 Straddling over the space on his lap, you reach down to move your underwear to the side. With both hands on his shoulders, you find yourself in the reflection of his pupils, the small moment of sincerity before you lean in closely, ghosting your lips over his. With a free hand, he finds solace in the crook of your neck, pressing you against him until the kiss is nothing more than gentle touches and quiet sighs. His lips, soft as feathers, mesh perfectly with your own, the taste of him, a mix of brandy and spices, only causing your head to spin. From underneath, you feel him line himself up with your entrance before he pushes himself inside, stretching you slightly as you become situated with his length. Neither of you break the kiss, and with both of his hands on your hips, he allows you to move, a mixture grinding and riding as you try to find the right angle. Leaning back slightly, you purr the moment his tip reaches that golden spot, the tingling sensation reaching all the way to your fingertips.

 “Right there.” The words strain to come out as he continues to hit it over and over, his grip on you now much tighter as you slam against him, nothing but the sound of skin against skin resounding inside the car.

 The ministrations from earlier already had you reaching your peak, and even though you thought the feelings would have died down a bit in the absence of his arm, you quickly realize that really, not much has changed. He seems to notice how close you are, as you are no longer able to kiss in a fluid manner, instead your mouth left hanging open as you bask in the oncoming of your orgasm. Allowing you to enjoy yourself, he simply leans back, admiring the way you look while riding him, likely the most attractive image he has ever seen in his entire life.

 He continues to thrust into you, matching the way your hips hit against him, and quickly there is nothing but mewls and groans coming from the depths of your throat.

 “Fuck… I’m so-… close.”

 Licking his lips, he increases his pace, using one hand to draw circles against your clit, your dripping arousal only coating his fingers as he slowly applies more pressure.

 “Baby, let go for me.”

 Those five little words push you over the edge, the stimulation finally catching up to you as the knot in your stomach finally releases, the wave of euphoria only producing stars of white behind your closed lids. No longer able to form coherent thoughts, you give in, falling forward with your head against his shoulder as he helps your ride your high until the very last breath.

 Both of you sit there, you half unconscious on his lap while he rubs your back lovingly, leaving gentle kisses against your hair. Despite still being undeniably horny and harder than he’s ever been, he still finds himself wanting nothing more than to just hold you in his arms.

 With your breathing now even, you sit up and place tender kisses along his jaw, leaving one final one atop his nose, an act so cringe worthy that he can’t help but look at you with pure disgust by how undeniably adorable yet demeaning it was. His reaction is so pure that you begin laughing uncontrollably, your fit becoming contagious as he submits to the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

 Once you’re able to catch your breath, your abdomen panging with the sudden exercise, you relax, and in the dim lighting from the moon, you give him a quick peck on the lips before a sudden thought crosses your mind.

 “Wait, what about you?”

 Looking down, he remembers his predicament. He became so focused on you that his own pleasure nearly slipped his mind.

 “We can finish that at my place.” He responds, smiling gently before pulling you against his chest, snuggling into your hair as if it is the most comfortable place on Earth.