#i just sit and appreciate them in silence

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | Poly 141 x Fem Fat Reader | masterlist

New Girl

You stare up at the sign reading ONE - FOUR - ONE in old English font. It’s an old building, all brick and stuffed in between several others. The windows have a thin, semi-opaque cover them to let in the light without allowing you to see inside.

You make your way to the front door, trying the handle and feeling stupid the moment you do. Your eyes connect with a small intercom beside you and you press it. There’s a small buzz, then silence.

A few beats go by, you debate pressing it again. You don’t want to be too insistent.

“Hello?” A voice comes through just before you reach up to press again.

“I, uh…” You stutter. Despite having many, many tattoos you somehow still feel like a poser every time you enter a new studio. “I have an appointment at one? With John?”

The man on the other side confirms your name before buzzing you in, the door letting out a loud click before you step inside. It both makes you more nervous and more relaxed - you can appreciate a closed storefront like that. Especially for something often as private as tattoos and piercings, but it still feels like you’re doing something wrong. Just a little bit.

The front room is lovely, though. The texture over the glass bathes the front room in a calm, iridescent light. There are a few waiting chairs, a low, black table piled high with books of flash. The front of the high counter is covered with posters and stickers from events going all the way back to the 90s.

The pretty man behind the counter repeats your name absently, obviously thinking about other things. Probably the half-finished design that sits abandoned on the iPad next to the appointment book he’s staring down at. You just nod in agreement.

“I’ll let John know you’re here.” He nods back, turning and pushing through a pair of saloon style doors to disappear down the hall. You take the time he’s gone to look around, flipping through yet another small book of designs on top of the counter. They’re good. Unique. Very gothic and interestingly detailed. Somehow both fine and bold simultaneously.

“Afternoon.” You jump, snapping the book shut and looking up to meet a pair of soft blue eyes and an easy smile. He looks you over briefly before extending his hand. “John Price.”

You murmur your name quietly, trying very hard to not stare at the incredible traditional work patched into a sleeve up his strong arm. Damn.

He leads you back to his work station - past a piercing studio and across from another room with the door shut and an IN SESSION sign on the door. The dull, buzzing sound of a tattoo machine drifts through.

“Now,” John says as he cuts down the extra paper around the stencil. “Just remember if you don’t like the placement we can move it. No problem.”

“Okay.” You nod, appreciative that he mentioned it. Sometimes these older men in the industry are gruff and have an attitude if you do anything less than treat them as if they are anything other than Absolutely Right and Perfect. Not that John came off that way. There’s a softness in his affect that relaxes your muscles and leaves you breathing easy.

“I know y’have several but I’m still going t’do a line and then see how you feel.” He murmurs, voice low.

It’s sweet, the way he’s walking you through it all despite the piece being small and you obviously having done with process several times. The sting of the needle is as expected and you murmur that it was fine before he really gets to work.

“Just let me know if y’need a break…” He mumbles, voice dipping even lower as he concentrates on his work. In any other situation that rumble would probably have you squirming in your seat. There’s a silence for a while before he speaks again, almost as if he forgot you were there. “This design have any significance?”

“I just wanted to get a new tattoo in my new hometown.” You snort - now at the point where most of your tattoos fall under the ‘because it’s cool’ category. “Probably stupid, seeing as I don’t have a job yet but… I don’t know. Feels like good luck.”

John grins. “Well then, thanks f’lettin’ me be your good luck charm.”

Your face heats at the rumble in his voice - glancing away nervously.

There’s another lapse of silence while he works, the only words exchanged are when he asks if you need a break and you decline. Eventually, toward the end you think, he asks another question. “What brought y’here then? If not a job?”

You would shrug, but you try to keep as still as possible while he works. “Just needed a change. Found an apartment easy enough - now I just need a way to make money.”

He hums in agreement. “What do you have experience in? Been around here a while - might be able to recommend somethin’.”

“Oh! Thank you!” You brighten up. “Receptionist work, mostly. Some admin assistant stuff.”

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “Y’know, we’re hirin’ right now.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “I don’t have, like, a resume with me.”

“You’ve got enough tattoos I’m assumin’ you know how the industry works. My apprentice is going to start actually tattooin’ soon, an’ I hate t’ have him still pickin up extra duties at the front.” He sits back, carefully smoothing saniderm onto your arm before turning and reaching for the ink-stained sketchbook behind him. “Tell y’what, you write down a few references for me and your number. If they’ve got good things t’ say we can do a trial period.”

You blink at him. He’s awful forward, and insistent, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. A temp job is better than no job. “Alright…”

Just like that, you gained employment by way of making a stupid financial decision.

John’s an incredible boss. He pays fairly (generously, but you know better than to accidentally negotiate your pay down). He gives you plenty of hours and trains you well - with the help of his apprentice. He doesn’t get annoyed when you ask questions, seeming content with your determination to do your job to the best of your abilities. The shop goes by appointment only - no walk ins and potential customers have to call to book. John keeps things old fashioned like that. All pen and paper and cash transactions. An ATM sits in the waiting area. The most complicated part of your job is changing out the cash box in it, and that only take a few days to learn. Not that you mind, it’s sort of refreshing to not deal with some fuckass new and “improved” register and appointment system.

Turns out part of the reason they operate in such a way (other than preference) is because John is a big name in the tattoo world. You hadn’t realized until he pointed out a couple of your flash tattoos were from his best-selling book of designs.

“Wait, you’re famous!?” You gasp, staring wide eyed at the old binder of newspaper clippings and book sales. ‘My Mum Wasn’t Impressed At First - Now Even She Has One’ reads the title of one of the older clippings - yellowed with age. John lacks his signature beard in the photo. It almost looks wrong.

John chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back in his rolling chair. “You could say that. You really didn’t know about our shop before you booked?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I just saw y’all get recommended on Reddit.”

He barks out a laugh at that. It’s a low, pleased sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His beard only emphasizes the apples of his cheeks as he smiles. Yeah, that’s the other thing, having a hot boss is kind of fire.

Plus, he’s not the only one. The whole studio is full of hunks.

Kyle is easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Like, run for Miss Universe pretty. Big doe eyes with a little scar on his cheekbone - small golden hoops glitter from both his earlobes. They frame his face so well, creating a perfect diamond from them to his sparkling eyes to his pretty smile; curled and genuine with perfect teeth. He walks you through the booking process step by step, that first day, a warm hand on your back and the other tracing down the columns of the physical appointment book.

His work is as beautiful as he is. At least, the ones done on fake skin. John hasn’t let him tattoo anyone for real yet - but his practice sketches are immaculate. At least to a layman. Kyle himself never seems quite satisfied with them. He gets such vivid color, though.

“Tattooing darker skin is an art form in and of itself.” He murmurs as he works on a piece of very dark fake skin. “I want people like me t’ be able t’ get exactly what they want, with just as much color as they want.”

You nod along, sipping at your coffee from across the street that you’ve taken up stopping at every day before work. Kyle has so much passion for the industry. The look he gets in his eyes while talking about it or designing a new piece makes your heart flutter.

Simon, the other resident artist, you’re the least familiar with. You can’t quite decide how to feel about him, or decipher how he feels about you. John introduced you a couple days after you started, but all you got was a perfunctory nod and a ‘good luck’. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck, despite his blunt nature. Both thick arms covered in full, detailed sleeves. High quality, ornate black work. A man of stature - six feet and some change with a breadth that a barn would envy. Pretty, blonde hair cropped just short of turning to curls and dark eyes that bore through you to the very core.

Sometimes, when he comes to ask about his next appointment, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he stands close because he likes you. That his knee briefly knocks against yours because he wants to touch you - not that you’re crazy enough to believe it. Just crazy enough to be a tiny bit delusional for the fun of it.

You meet their resident piercer on the weekend. Apparently, he’d been away visiting family your first week.

He leans up over the counter, grinning at you from ear to ear. A well-built man only a few inches shorter than the others with a perfectly groomed mohawk. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a bonnie little thing?”

You frown, hackles raising instinctually. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Och, they dinnae tell ye about me yet? I’m hurt.” He pouts, thick brows emphasizing the puppy like nature of his blue eyes.

“Let her be, Soap.” Kyle sighs heavily, walking to his area of the front with a fresh sketchbook.

“Soap?” You repeat.

“Aye. Cause apparently I need my mouth washed out.” He pokes his tongue out, only to reveal a silver piercing. He holds a hand over the counter. “Johnny MacTavish.”

Johnny is the most egregious man you have ever met - always touching you in one way or another when he checks in about appointments and so on. His Scottish brogue rings in your ears, every word loud and confident. A hand finds it’s way around your waist, a finger poking under the band of whatever bottoms you wear that day. At any other job, you would have considered it harassment and tore him a new one.

Johnny’s different, though. If you shrug him off he steps away, if you flinch he pulls back. Plus, he does it to everyone else just as much as you. More, if you’re honest. If Simon is within arms reach they’re touching. You noticed Johnny pushing a hand under his shirt at one point, grabbing at the soft layer over Simon’s abs. (A great view for you, frankly.) Hell, you saw him casually hold Kyle’s hand while they were talking over lunch. Even John isn’t immune to the clinging. You don’t think much of it. Body modding attracts all sorts of people. If Johnny’s just a touchy guy then he’s just touchy. Besides, you don’t mind that much when he slips an arm around your waist or hooks his chin on your shoulder to talk to you. Warm breath tracing the shell of your ear with a quiet ‘bonnie lass’ punctuating ever other sentence. A slight pinch to your hip before he trots away to set up his station.

You feel nauseous when your trial month ends. John sits you down across from him in the back office. A practical space with not much more in it than a desk, computer and the large safe. None of you spend much time back here outside of counting down the cash and dragging the trash bags through the back door to the dumpster.

“Think you’ve done really well, dove.” He grins. You try to ignore the way the pet name looks warmth in your lower belly. “You’ve picked up quickly, you’re good on the phone. Kyle’s been very happy about the extra time to practice.”

You let out the biggest, most relieved sigh of your life, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You don’t seem to mind Johnny, but if he gets to be too much let me or Simon know, yeah? He means well but he can be… well, you know.” John says absently as he reaches for something across the desk. “How are you feelin’?”

You nod. “I, uh, feel good. I like this position a lot. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

John nods along. “Good, good. I see no reason to not hire you on full time. Here.”

You hold put your hands as John drops a small, silver key into them. Holy shit! You get your own key! Up until now they’d been buzzing you in, but they’re trusting you with your very own key!

John must see the excitement on your face because he chuckles and extends a hand. “Welcome aboard, kid.”

A/N: I was very wine drunk writing most of this and it has next to no editing but I hope you enjoyed it! I just want something I can write that’s episodic and not as serious/brain heavy as Fancy or Across the Way

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Sunshine [Joel Miller]

this is my entry to Summer Loving Challenge by @pedgito. Thank you so much for creating it and letting me be part of it. You're a star! Or shall I say, sunshine??

pairing: no outbreak joel miller x f!reader

wordcount: 1.7K

warnings: reader is she/her, sexual content/mild sexual themes (implied only), mild language, mentions of violence, overall safe to read.

prompt: ROADTRIP #2

She smiles too much, he thinks. 

And Joel ain’t too fond of folks who smile all the damn time. Reckons they must be hiding something behind those shiny white teeth. 

Thing is, he ain't even sure how Tommy managed to rope him into this foolishness. He’d stopped by his brother’s place for a cold one and somehow left having agreed to ferry his obnoxiously cheerful sidekick across the state to some new job she landed in Joel’s neck of the woods. Must have been the quiet begging in Tommy’s eyes that did it, he supposes. Joel may be a surly son of a bitch, but he ain’t heartless.

So here he is, with the sun barely up and her sitting pretty beside him. Sneakers-clad feet up on the dash like she owns the place, skirt of that yellow sundress riding up her tights.

Tommy’s friend. The motormouth. The endless goddamn ray of sunshine that Joel just knows is gonna make his jaw ache from clenching before they even cross county lines.

“Mind if I turn this thing on?” she breaks the silence, stretching a little to fiddle with the radio dials. 

He fucking does. He’d rather drive in silence. But just shrugs instead.

Figures out it’s not worth the argument.

And as expected, her taste in music is as saccharine as the rest of her, all twangy guitars and lyrics about truck beds and tan lines. When she starts humming along off-key, he has to work very hard not to grind his teeth to dust. 

It's going to be a long drive.

Joel sighs and glances over at her. Shifts a bit in his seat and admits, albeit grudgingly, that she's easy on the eyes. Has been ever since he's known her.

But the problem is, she’s just so… much. Never still for a minute, fingers tapping, foot bouncing, mouth running a mile a minute. He can practically feel all that restless energy buzzing under her skin, setting his own nerves alight. Makes him wonder if she even knows she's doing it, all them little twitches and squirms. If she's got any idea how it gets him all riled up without even trying. Joel ain't sure quite what to do with her.

And sweet Jesus can she talk. About this, about that. Everything and not a damn thing. About the weather and politics. The heat and some harvest festivals she’s helping throw. A whole slew of crappy dates, some dog she’s thinking of adopting. The gossip about people Joel barely knows and could care less about. So, he tunes most of it out, just grunts now and then so she thinks he's listening.

But at some point, whether because he’s getting bored or because of the heat, Joel catches himself actually paying attention. Learns she's a teacher, spending her days trying to cram knowledge into the heads of a pack of rowdy kids. 

"It's thankless work," she laughs, "but I guess somebody's gotta do it."

Joel thinks it's pretty admirable, choosing a job like that. Lord knows he's had his share of crap gigs. Brings to mind those long, hot days pouring concrete under that merciless Texas sun. The way heat would shimmer up off the fresh pavement and make him feel like he's in some kind of fever dream.

“Look, I didn’t expect you’d want to give me a ride,” she pipes up after a bit. “I appreciate it.”

"Mm," he grunts, committing to nothing.

“I mean it, Miller. I was really close to sticking out my thumb and hitching.”

Joel's hands tighten on the wheel at the thought. "That's a good way to get yourself murdered."

She cuts her eyes over at him. "How do I know you're not some kind of murderer?"

He snorts. "Do I look like a murderer to you?"

"I don't know. What's a murderer look like?"

"Not like me."

"Hm. That's exactly what a murderer would say, I reckon."

He shakes his head, more than a little annoyed now.

This damn woman.

When they pull over for gas and to stretch their legs, Joel finds himself watching her as she arches her back like a cat in the sun, that sundress pulling taut across her chest; the skirt riding up even higher. Makes him look away real quick.

“I’m going inside to pay,” she chirps. “Want anything? Coke maybe? A three-day old sandwich?”

Joel peers at her. Mutters, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself, Grumpy.”

Grumpy. 

It's hardly the worst thing he's been called, but it chafes at him for some reason. For a second, he wonders what it would be like to be someone different. Someone who said yes to Cokes and gas-station sandwiches. To yellow dresses and sunshine smiles.

"You ever think about how weird it is that we can just go anywhere these days?" She starts in again before he even gets back on the road.

He squints over at her. "How do you mean?"

"I don't know. Cars and planes and those talking maps on phones. World's gotten real small. Used to be folks who didn't stray more than a few miles from where they were born. And now here we are, two random people rolling down the road in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere. Just 'cause we felt like it."

Joel's not sure he'd say he felt like it, exactly. But he gets her point. "I guess," he allows. "Makes you wonder what it musta been like. Back then."

"Doesn't it? No AC, no snacks, no radio to bicker over." She grins at him, teasing. "Though I suppose you would've done just fine without that last one, huh?"

He huffs, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “They wouldn’t need a radio with you doing all the talking. Probably would've driven the whole wagon train up the wall with your yammering."

“You mean, I would’ve livened things up?”

"Livened," he repeats, dry as dust, and she laughs. It's a good one, Joel thinks. Bright and uninhibited in a way he hasn't heard often in this life.

Suddenly gets the strangest urge to reach out and touch her. Trail his knuckles down the line of her throat, feel the vibration of it under his fingers.

Wraps his hands around the wheel instead, wondering where the hell that came from. If she notices his odd moment, she doesn't let on. Just keeps rambling on about dysentery and fording rivers and how she definitely would've been the first to die of cholera. Joel lets those honeyed tones wash over him and tries not to dwell on the tight, hot feeling in his chest.

By the time they pull up at the little house Tommy helped her get settled in, it's pitch black out. He can just make out her face in the glow of the dome light, those big eyes soft and serious for once as she gathers up her bags.

"Thanks again for the lift," she says, real quiet. "I know I'm not exactly your favourite person to be stuck with."

"Wasn't so bad," he admits, and it's almost not a lie. "Glad I could help."

She hesitates with her hand on the door handle, worrying that plump bottom lip with her teeth. "I'd invite you in for a beer but I know you probably want to get home."

He does. He should. But maybe it's that little waver in her voice, the uncertain set of her shoulders. Maybe it's knowing that the second she steps out of this truck, the strange little bubble they've been floating in is going to pop. Things will snap back to how they've always been, her grating on his last nerve from a nice safe distance and him avoiding her as best he can.

And maybe he's just not quite ready for that.

"Well..." he drawls, "I reckon I could come in for a cold one."

The smile she gives him could put the sun to shame, all dimples and crinkly eyes. Makes that tugging feeling in his chest pull so sharp it steals his breath. 

He follows her up the porch steps and into the cosy hallway, his chest tight and his palms clammy like some nervous teenager. As she putters in the kitchen, fetching beers and clinking glasses, he stands in her living room and looks around at the organised clutter, the artfully arranged photographs, the bunches of wildflowers stuck in mason jars.

The whole place is so absolutely, utterly her it makes something behind his ribs ache fiercely.

When she comes back with two frosty beers, pressing one into his hand, they just stand there for a minute. Look at each other with the heavy weight of something hanging in the air between them. She takes a pull off her bottle, throat working as she swallows and it's more than he can take. The urge to put his mouth right there, to lick the sharp tang of hops right off her skin.

“So…,” she murmurs softly as she places her beer on the counter behind her and looks back at him. Her eyelashes flutter, and her gaze latches on his mouth. It’s a split of a second but Joel decides that he’s had enough. 

He sets his own bottle down carefully. Cradles her face in his rough hands and leans in slow, so slow, until he can taste her shaky breath. She meets him halfway, arms winding around his neck as she opens up for him, soft and sweet as summer rain. He tips his head to kiss her deeper and she mewls into his mouth, hands flexing against his shoulders, and Joel is lost. 

It doesn’t take long before they are stumbling back to her bedroom, all tangled up in each other. When he rids himself of his shirt and hovers above her, she is smiling, her fingers moving slowly to graze the warm skin of his back, and it’s so good Joel feels drunk on it. 

Later, after, with her curled up asleep on his chest, Joel stares up at the lazy spin of the ceiling fan. Marvels at the strange turns a life can take. How somebody can get under your skin until one day you wake up and realise you forgot how to breathe without them.

He runs his fingers through the wild tangle of her hair, feels her sigh contentedly against him. Lets himself imagine, just for a minute, that this could be his life. That he could have something this soft, this sweet, and keep it.

Joel blows out a long breath.

Drops a kiss to the top of her head and lets his eyes slip closed.

Maybe there's something to be said for all that sunshine after all.

[beomiracles]

hii congrats on 500 !! this is my first request so plss bear with me

i've been thinking a lot about enemies to lovers(?) with ice skater!yeonjun x ice skater!reader..

the two had been paired together by their coaches but they DO NOT get along

but they have such good chemistry when they perform and they feel it too

then on a day before a competition things just snap and they just cannot keep their hands off each other

again congrats on 500!! :33

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... this was such a good idea!! but idk if I like how I executed it or not (╥﹏╥) so any feedback is super duper appreciated! (I did proofread but I'm almost certain there's a few mistakes, feel free to point them out!)

wc -> 1.9k

pairings ice skater!yeonjun x ice skater!afab!reader warnings semi-public sex, unprotected sex + pullout method, slight descriptions of cum, marking, hate sex?

The feeling of his warm hands on your waist causes an almost burning sensation to ripple through your body, despite the ice rink being well below freezing degrees. Your feet lift off the ground as Yeonjun’s grip on you becomes tighter. — Effortlessly, you land again as the two of you separate. Every moment on both your parts were flawless and you were more than ready for the day ahead. That was until… 

“Ow! Fuck!” You cry out in pain as your knee hits the ice beneath you. Confused, you brace yourself against the cold surface as you glance up to see Yeonjun a few paces away, seemingly equally lost. “What’s going on?” Your coach asks as he stands by the entrance of the rink, a frown plastered across his face. “You were supposed to catch me”, you seethe as you turn to your partner.

“And you were supposed to be on my left not my right”, he retorts as he glides over to reach out a helping hand, one that you push away. “No I wasn’t”, you grit out as you rise to your feet, wincing slightly. “Were too”, Yeonjun presses as he folds his arms across his chest, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No I wasn…” — “That’s enough!” Your coach shouts as he beckons you over. With your heads hanging low in shame, the two of you skate toward him. 

He sighs as he runs a stressed hand through his short hair. “Get it together”, he pleads as he looks between your and Yeonjun’s unblinking expressions. “You guys perform so well together, learn to put your differences aside and work toward the bigger picture. We can’t afford screw ups like these.” 

Screw ups. You glance over at Yeonjun who seems just as disappointed. If anything he was the screw up and not you. He sends you a small glare, seemingly holding similar thoughts of you. “Coach I…” you begin but is quickly silenced by an accusing finger from your trainer. “I don’t want to hear it. Go home, get some rest and come back early tomorrow for a final rehearsal.” He sighs as he gives you one last pleading glance and you nod. “Yes coach.”

“This is all your fault.” 

The sounds of the locker slamming shut fills the joint changing room and you glance toward Yeonjun with a scowl. “My fault?” You scoff, sitting on one of the benches you slowly work on untying your shoes. “You’re not the one who ended up with a bruised knee.” You retort as your attention returns to the strings in your hands. 

Leaning against his locker, Yeonjun folds his arms across his chest. “You’re the one who can’t follow a simple program. How do I know you won’t mess up tomorrow?” He questions as he cocks an eyebrow at you. Frowning, you don’t look up from your skates, “I’ll mess up? You’re the one who failed to catch me.” You state as you tug at the knots, to little avail as they seemed to draw in tighter against your ankles. .

“And I would have, if you had appeared on my left, like you were supposed to.” He barks as he pulls on his sneakers. — “You always blame shit on me”, you sputter as you helplessly pull at your skates; groaning in frustration when they refuse to budge. Kicking your feet against the tiled floor, you wince as your bruised knee makes itself known once more. “Fucking piece of shit”, you mutter as you brace your hands either side of you on the bench.

Letting out a huff of air, Yeonjun runs a hand through his dark hair. “You’re fucking unbelievable you know that?” He mutters as he marches up toward you. Confused, you blink up at him, “what’re you…doing..” Without even sparing you a glance, he crouches down by your feet as he begins untying your shoes. 

“It’s an easy program, I don’t understand what about it is so difficult for you to grasp.” He grunts to himself as his lean fingers work to relieve the pressure the knots on your skates had been putting on your ankles. “Yeonjun what are you…” — “Just shut up will you?” He groans as he pulls one of your skates off before moving on to the next one as he continues his rant. 

“You’re so fucking difficult”, he mumbles as the frown on his forehead deepens. “And the worst part is, you don’t even realize it”, his words come out as a breathy laugh as he shakes his head. “Do you know how hard it is to focus out there?” He complains as he pulls your second shoe off before tilting his head up to look at you, bracing his hands on the bench either side of your own. 

Too stunned to even speak, you watch him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “What?” You whisper, your brows furrowed as you try to make sense of his blunt statements. He chuckles as he runs a hand through his hair in disbelief. “Even outside of the rink you’re fucking oblivious.” 

“Yeonjun, what are you talking ab…” 

He shuts you up with a harsh kiss to your lips and your eyes go wide as you lean back. Quick to chase after you, Yeonjun pushes you up against the locker as he parts your knees to make room for himself in between. His hands move from their spot on the bench to wander along your upper thighs and waist, pulling your hips forward as he deepens the kiss. 

Blinking away the shock, your eyes flutter closed as your hands find their way under his shirt; feeling him up the way you had undeniably wanted to for so long. The fact that you hated Choi Yeonjun was no secret, and neither was it that he hated you too. — However, the thoughts of him you allowed yourself to have late at night when no one else was around; the lingering glances when no one paid attention or the brief spark of electricity that coursed through you whenever his hand brushed against yours, those were all very secret. — You just hadn’t imagined Yeonjun to be carrying the exact same burden. 

“You have no fucking idea what you do to me”, he groans against your lips, his fingers moving to twiddle with the material of your rather short skirt. Lost in the heat of the moment you sigh against his mouth. “Then why don’t you show me?” — Pulling back to look at you, Yeonjun’s chest heaves up and down, “what did you just say?”, he asks, as if making sure he’d actually heard you right. 

You grin as your hands retract from his shirt, pushing his soft hair back, you lean in to whisper against his ear. “I said, why don’t you show me?” You hear him mutter a few curses under his breath as he glances down between your bodies. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks as he considers his options. Throwing a quick glance toward the door he then smirks, “your words, not mine.” 

With that he reconnects your lips, teeth clashing together as you gasp into each other’s mouths. His hands wrap under your thighs as Yeonjun hoists you up with little effort, just like he did out on the ice. Without breaking the kiss he walks you over to the nearest wall, groaning as your hands tug impatiently at his shirt. 

“Off”, you breathe and as he lets you pull the fabric from his body; your eyes immediately drop to his toned torso, nails trailing along the outline of his prominent six pack, recalling the many occasions in which you had ogled his chest. “Fuck you’re so sexy”, Yeonjun mumbles as his gaze focuses on the way you bite your lip as you openly check him out. Your eyes snap up to his, “yeah?” Your fingers pull at the hem of his pants and Yeonjun lets out a small sigh as his lips crash against yours. 

“Coach probably thinks we left by now…” you murmur as he moves to trail kisses along your jaw and neck, humming in response. He groans as your hand dips inside his pants to cup his cock through his briefs. “We should hurry, he might come and lock up early…” you urge as Yeonjun sucks harsh marks on your skin; you would have to cover them up for tomorrow. 

Peering over at the clock behind him, your hands push his pants down enough to pull his cock free from the confinements of his boxers; making him moan against your skin as you languidly stroke him. The same fingers that you had fantasized about so many times before slip past the lining of your panties, pushing them to the side as he makes room for himself – letting you guide his tip until it's pressing against your wet folds. 

Your head falls back and a small gasp escapes your lips as he gently slides himself inside of you, groaning at how you clenched around him. “Fuck”, he grunts as he braces one of his hands on the wall next to your head, the other one maintaining a tight grip on your thigh. “You don’t know how, fuck, hard it is to focus whenever you’re around” — “how often I think of you”, he grits out between thrusts as his lips return to your neck. 

“You think about me?” You breathe as your hands grasp his shoulders tightly. Yeonjun huffs out a short breath against your skin, “all the time.” — “God you’re so fucking annoying”, he groans and your cunt clenches at his words. You tug at the strands of his hair, bringing his face level with your own. 

“Do you hate me?” 

The question makes him smirk as he pries your lips open with his own, his tongue slipping inside easily to slide along yours. “I hate you”, he drawls and you moan into his mouth. — “I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone the way I hate you.” He pulls back to watch the way you withered under his touch a menacing look on his disgustingly sexy face. “Yet you’re all I can think about.” 

“F-fuck, Yeonjun I’m gonna…” You whimper, barely able to finish your sentence as you clench vigorously around him, pulling a groan from him when you finish around his twitching cock. It was a hundred times better than all the previous occasions in which your fingers had made you cum to the thought of him. — “Fuck, do that again”, he grunts as he snaps his hips against yours, making you cry out from the overstimulation. 

With a dazed expression you watch as he pulls himself from your dripping cunt, wincing slightly at the loss of him as your gaze drops to the way his fingers wrap around his shaft as he brings himself to his own orgasm. You shudder as the warm liquid coats your stomach, ruining your shirt as it runs down the thin fabric. His hand swipes across your lower abdomen, smearing the mess further along your clothes as he smirks. You glare up at him. “I fucking hate your guts.” — Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow at you as the smirk on his lips widens, “but your pussy loves them.”

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[carleycore]

When they insult you (Osamu and Kageyama)

A/N It's been a while since I've done this series so hehe

Genre: Hurt/comfort Angst

Warnings: Insults obvi

Part one Part two Part three Part four

(being too clingy)

The bustling noise of Onigiri Miya's kitchen is a familiar symphony to you. You sit at the counter, watching Osamu expertly prepare a new batch of rice balls. His usual focused expression is slightly strained today, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to the long hours he has been working lately.

"Do you need any help, 'Samu?" you ask, hoping to ease his burden.

Osamu barely glances at you, shaking his head. "No, I got it," he replies curtly.

You frown but decide to give him space. You know running a restaurant is stressful, and Osamu has been pushing himself too hard. You want to be there for him, to support him, but he has been increasingly distant.

"Are you sure?" you press gently. "I can help with the orders, or maybe clean up a bit."

"I said no, (Y/N)," Osamu snaps, his voice sharp. "Just stay out of the way."

Taken aback, you recoil as if you have been struck. Hurt flashes across your face, but you bite your lip, trying to keep your composure. "Okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

You stand up, intending to give him the space he seems to need, but Osamu's next words stop you in your tracks.

"Why do you always have to be so clingy?" he mutters under his breath, though loud enough for you to hear. "I can’t deal with this right now. You’re just making things harder by hovering."

Tears well up in your eyes. "Clingy?" you repeat, your voice trembling. "I'm just trying to help, Osamu. You've been working non-stop, and I thought you could use some support."

"Well, you're not helping," he retorts, slamming a rice ball onto the counter. "You're just making everything more stressful by constantly being here and trying to do things your way."

The silence that follows is heavy and suffocating. You stare at him, your heart aching. Without another word, you turn and leave the restaurant, the bell above the door jingling sadly as it closes behind you.

Hours pass, and the sun has long since set by the time Osamu finally closes up for the night. Exhaustion weighs heavily on him, but the memory of your hurt expression gnaws at his conscience. He knows he has crossed a line.

When he arrives at your apartment, he hesitates for a moment before knocking. The door opens slowly, and you stand there, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Hey," Osamu says softly, his voice filled with regret.

You look at him, a mix of sadness and anger in your eyes. "What do you want, Osamu?"

"I wanted to apologize," he says, stepping closer but stopping when he sees you tense. "I was out of line. You were just trying to help, and I lashed out. I’m so sorry, (Y/N)."

You cross your arms, looking away. "You really hurt me, Osamu," you say quietly. "I know you're stressed, but that doesn't give you the right to talk to me like that."

"I know," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "I've been under a lot of pressure, but that's no excuse. I should have appreciated your help instead of pushing you away."

A tear slips down your cheek, and Osamu reaches out, gently wiping it away with his thumb. "I love you, (Y/N)," he says earnestly. "I don’t want to lose you because of my stupid mistakes."

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in them. Slowly, you uncross your arms and step closer. "I love you too, Osamu," you murmur. "But you need to let me in. We're a team, remember?"

Osamu nods, pulling you into his arms. "I promise I’ll do better," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't want to push you away ever again."

You hug him tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace soothing your aching heart. "Just talk to me next time, okay?" you whisper. "We’ll get through it together."

Osamu holds you close, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. "I will," he vows. "Together."

As you stand there, wrapped in each other's arms, the hurt begins to melt away, replaced by a renewed sense of closeness and understanding. You know there will be challenges ahead, but as long as you face them together, you'll be okay.

(misplaced anger)

You stand by the kitchen counter, finishing up the dishes from dinner. The clinking of plates and running water are the only sounds in the otherwise quiet apartment. It's been a long day for both of you, and the tension in the air is palpable. Kageyama sits at the dining table, staring intently at his phone, his brows furrowed in frustration.

"Tobio, is everything okay?" you ask, drying your hands on a towel. "You seem upset."

"I'm fine," he replies curtly, not looking up from his phone.

You sigh, walking over to him. "You don't seem fine. If something's bothering you, you can talk to me."

He finally looks up, his eyes dark with irritation. "I said I'm fine, (Y/N). Why do you always have to make everything a big deal?"

His words sting, but you try to remain calm. "I'm just worried about you. You've been on edge lately, and I want to help."

"Help?" he scoffs, standing up abruptly. "The only thing you're doing is making things worse. I don't need you hovering over me all the time."

Your heart aches at his harsh tone. "I'm just trying to be there for you, Tobio. We're supposed to support each other."

"Support?" he snaps, his voice rising. "All you do is nag and worry. It's suffocating, (Y/N). Sometimes, I just need space."

The words hang heavily in the air, each one cutting deeper than the last. Tears well up in your eyes, but you blink them away, not wanting to break down in front of him.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I didn't realize I was making you feel that way."

Kageyama's expression softens slightly, but his frustration is still evident. "I just... I need some time to myself, okay?"

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Okay, I'll give you space."

Without another word, you turn and leave the room, heading to the bedroom. You close the door behind you and sink onto the bed, tears streaming down your face. The ache in your chest is overwhelming, and you clutch a pillow tightly, trying to find some comfort in its softness.

Hours pass, and the apartment remains silent. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of Kageyama's words pressing heavily on your heart. You want to support him, to be there for him, but it feels like everything you do is wrong.

A soft knock on the door breaks the silence. "Y/N?" Kageyama's voice is gentle, hesitant. "Can I come in?"

You sit up, wiping your tears away. "Yeah."

The door opens slowly, and he steps inside, his expression filled with regret. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I shouldn't have said those things. I was frustrated and took it out on you. It's not your fault."

You look at him, your eyes still glistening with tears. "I just wanted to help, Tobio. I hate seeing you stressed."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I've been under a lot of pressure with training and everything, but that's no excuse for how I treated you. You were just trying to be supportive, and I pushed you away."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours. "I love you, Tobio. I want to be there for you, but you need to let me in. We’re a team."

He squeezes your hand, his eyes filled with guilt and affection. "I love you too, (Y/N). I'm sorry for hurting you. I'll do better, I promise."

You move closer, wrapping your arms around him. He holds you tightly, his warmth comforting and familiar. "Just talk to me next time, okay?" you whisper against his shoulder. "We’ll get through it together."

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I will. Together."

As you hold each other, the pain begins to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of closeness and understanding. You know there will be challenges ahead, but as long as you face them together, you'll be okay.

[smoshyourheadin]

Hi! Saw that your requests were open and wondered if you’d do something with Steve Harrington and reader where it’s based on season 4 and reader is catching the looks Steve and Nancy give each other so she confronts him and he reassures her there’s nothing going on?

only you

pairing: steve harrington x f! reader

a/n: I LOVE STEVE!! this was rlly fun to write :33 this request is so cute i love him eek!! also this is kind of inspired by the song ‘only you’ by yazoo bc i love that song heheh

it had been a rough few days. the kind of rough that made steve wish he could crawl under his bedcovers and stay there until the world decided to stop falling apart. but hiding wasn't an option when the upside down was causing havoc in hawkins again, and certainly not when nancy was back in his life, running headfirst into danger just like old times.

you had been a solid presence throughout the ordeal, offering reason when everyone else seemed ready to unravel. steve always appreciated you more than he could ever put into words. you were his rock, his anchor in the storm, and he knew he was the luckiest guy in the world to have you by his side.

tonight, the group had gathered in the wheeler basement, trying to piece together the story of the latest victim that vecna had left for them. nancy was flipping through her notebook, scribbling notes furiously, while steve tried to keep up with the conversation. he glanced over at her a few times, mostly out of habit. they had been through so much together that it was hard not to look back on those memories with a tinge of nostalgia.

but he didn’t realize how it must have looked to you.

you were sitting on the other side of the room, comforting el, whilst trying to focus on max’s recount of her latest vision, but your eyes kept drifting to steve and nancy. every stolen glance, every shared look between them, sent a pang of insecurity through your heart. you knew they had history - everyone did. but seeing them together again, working so closely, it made you wonder if maybe that history wasn't as buried as you hoped.

later, after the meeting had dispersed and everyone was heading home, you and steve walked to his car in silence. the quiet stretched uncomfortably between you, filled with words unsaid.

"hey," steve finally broke the silence as he unlocked the car. "y’okay?"

you nodded, but your expression betrayed you. steve could see the worry etched across your face. he gently touched your arm, stopping you before you could climb into the passenger seat.

"what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

you took a deep breath, looking up at him with eyes that threatened to spill over with tears. "i saw the way you were looking at nancy tonight," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "and... and the way she was looking at you."

steve's eyes widened in surprise, and then softened with understanding. he stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands. "hey, no," he said gently. "there’s nothing going on between me and nancy. we’re just trying to figure all this out, just like everyone else."

"but you have a history with her," you whispered, looking away. "and i can't help but feel like, like maybe you still have feelings for her."

steve's heart ached at the sight of your distress. he tilted your chin up so you would look at him, his gaze steady and sincere. "listen to me," he said firmly. "nancy and i... we had our time, but it’s over. i care about her as a friend, and that's it. you’re the one i’m with now. you’re the one i want to be with."

he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. "you’re my present and my future," he whispered. "i love you. only you."

you closed your eyes too, feeling the warmth of his words seep into your heart. "promise?" you asked, your voice small and vulnerable.

steve pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression full of love and determination. "i promise," he said. "i’m all in, with you. and I’m not going anywhere."

you let out a shaky breath, a smile breaking through the lingering doubt. "okay," you whispered.

steve leaned in and kissed you, slow and sweet, pouring all his reassurance and love into that kiss. when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again, a small smile playing on his lips. "no more doubts, okay?"

you nodded, feeling the weight of your worries lift. "okay."

with a final kiss on your forehead, steve opened the car door for you. as you both settled into your seats and drove away, the tension from earlier dissolved, replaced by a comforting sense of certainty. no matter what anything or anyone threw at you, you knew you had steve by your side. and that was enough.

[ghoulette-knell]

Little Dove

Mountain x Fem!Reader

⛧⛧⛧ Requests are Open ⛧⛧⛧

Swiss is making fun of you for being a virgin, and Mountain decides to help you out with that.

🔞MDNI🔞

TW: Size Difference; Size Kink; Cunnilingus; Fingering (female receiving); Friends with Benefits; Age Gap; Fondling; Aftercare.

Word Count: 7,108

It was a beautiful Sunday evening. Usually, it was seen by Catholics that Satanists would despise Sundays due to the day's religious significance, but that wasn't the case at all. Your ministry was indifferent to them, but you weren't. Sundays were your favourite. It was an excuse to make a coffee, sit in the Ghoul common room by the great window, and read a book as you ended your day. It was your only day off, and you looked forward to it every day of the week.

Of course, you'd never get a moment of silence when Swiss was around. The man thrived on pranking everyone in the ministry, and you were the target of his antagonizations today.

“Poor little (Y/N)! 18 years old, and still a virgin!” the voice of Swiss taunted you from across the room as you sat down in a comfy loveseat with a mug of coffee, “You’re the only Ghoul in the whole ministry who’s never been laid! Why is that? You know Satan rejoices in fucking! Why are you holding yourself back when you know the Olde One wants this for you?"

Mountain, who was also in the room, frowned as he heard Swiss’ words to you. He didn’t like that at all.

You blushed intensely at Swiss' words, almost choking on your coffee as you took a small sip. You coughed lightly, your face beet-red, "W-What are you talking about?" you wheezed, taken aback by the older Ghoul's comment regarding your apparent virginity.

It was so unprecedented and uncalled for… typical Swiss. He really had no filter which made him VERY obnoxious.

“Everyone knows you’re a virgin, sweetheart! It’s the talk amongst us Ghouls,” Swiss continued, ���It’s so pathetic, everyone is teasing me for never having gotten into your bed yet! Everyone thinks it’s so strange we haven’t gotten together. I suppose they’re right, aren’t they? So, what’s the hold-up?” he said as he leaned back in his chair, waiting for your response.

Your eyes flickered momentarily over to Mountain. Subconsciously, you were waiting for Mountain. He had been your best friend ever since you were summoned from Hell to join the ministry, and you had fallen in love with him… you didn't know how it happened.

"I'm not interested in you like that, Swiss," you mumbled while taking an awkward sip of your coffee; your cheeks flooding red from embarrassment.

Swiss chuckled, “I find that hard to believe,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, “it’s probably because you’re too shy? Come here. I can help with that.”

Swiss motioned for you to sit on his lap, causing your cheeks to blush even brighter, but Mountain stepped forward with a determined look on his face. The earth-ghoul's tail lashed in aggravation. Swiss had crossed a line.

“Stay away from her, Swiss,” Mountain snarled, “and don’t you ever try to touch her again!” Swiss sneered and turned his attention to Mountain, but kept quiet.

It was obvious that Swiss was intimidated, as Mountain was much larger and stronger than the multi-Ghoul. Swiss was like a child whenever it came to height and body mass compared to Mountain.

You looked up at Mountain from your place in the chair and smiled warmly, gracious that your friend was willing to help you out like that.

"Thanks, Mountain. I appreciate it," you whispered while lightly rubbing Mountain's hand with your pinky.

Mountain squeezed the pinky of your hand and nodded his head, clearly having been affected by your touch in this instance. His expression was serious, but his demeanour was also affectionate... only towards you, anyways.

“Don’t worry about him,” he told you, “We all know Swiss is a creep.”

"I think he's just lonely," you murmured while watching Swiss leave the room, fuming. Of course, Swiss had no defense for his shitty actions, "That's why he picks fun at me being a virgin. He just wants companionship and doesn't know how to... verbalize it. He's not a creep. He just needs to recognize that I don't like him like that."

Mountain considered your words carefully as he glanced across towards the door where Swiss had left. It is true, perhaps Swiss really did just want a relationship to fill the empty hole inside his life. It didn't excuse his words, though.

“Well, he’s not acting very nicely, now, is he?” Mountain said, “I hate to see him try to manipulate you with the whole virginity thing, it ain’t right.”

You shrugged and took another sip of your coffee, “I know. I try not to let him bother me though. It’s not worth it. I can’t help it, so why let it bother me? I know I’m the only Ghoul… with my virginity left, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I do a lot of other sinful things to please Lucifer."

Mountain sighed as he listened to the reasoning of your words. You had a point. You were happy being a virgin... or comfortable, rather, and despite the teasing you took from others, you felt content with your situation. There was no reason for him to get upset at your own choices.

“I’m impressed, really. I could never be as confident as you in this same situation,” he said sincerely as he looked down at you.

Your tail flicked slightly as you shrugged, “I don’t really have a choice to not be confident. I can’t change my… situation, and I sure as hell not going to lose my virginity to Swiss. My time will come eventually, I hope.”

“It will, I promise,” Mountain replied with a smile, his demeanour soft and gentle. It wasn’t every day he got to have a heart-to-heart with you, and he wanted to make it worth every moment.

“I just don’t know why the others are so focused on something so trivial,” he said as he brushed a small lock of hair away from your eyes, “It shouldn’t matter.”

Your face lit up subtly as Mountain lovingly pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. You leaned into your friend’s touch, sighing in contentment, “You always understand me, Mountain. Thank you for your words.”

With those words, something within Mountain seemed to break. He had felt this way for too long, he couldn’t keep pretending that it was going to go back away, he needed to say something. The earth-ghoul felt like a bottle of pop that had just received a line of mintos... he was about to explode.

“I want to ask you a question, Little Dove,” he said, now looking directly at you and using the nickname he had given you a while ago, “and I’d like for you to be honest with me in your answer, okay?”

You slowly grasped Mountain’s hand and held it in yours as he spoke. You looked up at him with a small, close-lipped smile, and nodded, “Sure, Mountain. What’s up?”

In that moment, a small, shy grin graced Mountain’s lips as he noticed the close grip you had on his hand. “I may be overstepping a boundary, so again, I want you to be honest with your answer,” he said, “Do you… want me to help you with your virginity issue...?”

You blushed wildly and stared up at your friend, “M-Mountain. That is not what I was expecting you to say…”

You covered your face with your hands to try and block away your blush from your amused friend.

Mountain couldn’t help but grin as he saw the way you were flushed red. His eyes took notice of the pink hue that had overtook your face instantly, a purr vibrating deep in his chest.

“So...is that a yes?” he asked with a coy grin, knowing his offer was most likely a welcome one.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stared up at your friend.

“I-I don’t know, Mountain. I don’t want to risk ruining our friendship."

Mountain was glad to see that you did consider your friendship. He respected you and your opinions, after all, you two had been friends for such a long time... ever since you were summoned, anyways. Mountain did not wish to damage the special bond that the two of you shared, as it was equally as important to him as it was for you.

“I completely understand,” he said kindly as he squeezed your hand, “But, just know, the offer still stands if you’re too nervous and want someone you already trust to help you out.”

You squeezed his hand back and peered up towards him. You were so unbelievably nervous, but he was right. There was no one you would rather lose your virginity to than Mountain. You trusted him more than anyone else.

You hesitated for a moment, sensing Mountain’s unease at your silence.

“You’re really willing to help me out?”

Mountain laughed slightly at your nerves. He certainly found your flustered personality adorable, but he also recognized just how tense you had gotten. This was a sensitive topic, and the drummer wished to take it as seriously as possible.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” he said as he squeezed your hand, and his eyes shifted their gaze towards the entrance, looking towards where Swiss had left. “Why don’t we get out of here…”

You squeezed Mountain’s hand and slowly got to your feet; abandoning your now-cold coffee on the table, alongside your book. Your knees were shaking from nerves, but this felt right. You were nervous because this was the unknown. It was like when a mortal had stage fright regarding public speaking, or fear of anesthesia because they'd never had surgery before. You had never done this before, but Mountain would take care of you.

“I’m a little scared,” you whispered while looking up at Mountain as he walked you down the halls towards his quarters, “Will it hurt?”

Mountain smiled at the way you seemed to cling to him, it was adorable in a sense to see just how comfortable you were with him.

“Don’t worry, Little Dove,” he said in a voice filled with affection as he guided you to his room, “I would never hurt you. It may be a little uncomfortable your first time, but it gets much, much, much better afterwards. You’ll see…”

You felt his hand clasp your back affectionately, your nerves beginning to calm as he used your nickname. Little Dove. He always called you that when he knew you were nervous or uncomfortable.

“Okay,” you murmured while gripping onto his sleeve like a frightened child, “I trust you.”

A gentle smile graced Mountain’s features as he guided you into his room, which was only a few steps away from the common room, and closed the door behind the both of you. The room was covered in shadow, save for the soft moonlight streaming in through the window.

“Now, then.” he began, his voice soft and reassuring, “Why don’t you go lay on the bed for me.”

You swallowed nervously and walked over, kicking your shoes off before sitting down on Mountain’s bed. You slowly laid back, your head laying on Mountain’s pillows. You laid still and motionless, still quite nervous.

You couldn't help but marvel over how much larger Mountain's bed was to yours. You only slept in on a twin mattress, but Mountain had at least a king to accommodate his impressive height. You felt so small laying in his bed. Oh, Lucifer... why were you thinking about that right now? That was such an insignificant detail, yet here you were-- dwelling on it.

It was obvious that Mountain would have to guide your every move.

He stood at the side of the bed, taking a seat on the floor as he looked over you, his expression one of care.

“Relax, I promise to take care of you and take things slow,” he said in a comforting and affectionate tone, “Are you comfortable like that or would you like for me to do something to ease your stress? I can turn the light off, if that helps? Or I could lay next to you, if that would make you feel more at ease…”

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, your face softening at how sweet Mountain was being, “Thank you. Just do what you’re doing. I’m fine, I promise. Just a little nervous. I do trust you though.”

You laid your hand on Mountain’s clothed chest, rubbing the surface slowly. Your breathing began to slow down as you grew more comfortable with the situation.

Mountain felt the warmth of your touch as your hand rubbed the surface of his chest. A small smile grew on his lips as he watched your chest expand with your breath. The sound of your breathing was soft and gentle, matching the essence of the moonlight pouring in.

He felt your trust within that moment, a trust that Mountain would protect you and take care of you.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” he said softly as he placed his hand on top of where yours was, his hand now innocently resting upon your breast, “How are you feeling?”

You blushed lightly in response to the drummer's touch, “I’m feeling better,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

The lightness of your trust filled Mountain with a warmth that he couldn’t describe. Even in this moment of nervousness and anxiety, he still heard nothing but your calm voice and soft breathing. No words seemed to be needed between the two of you as he lightly rubbed his palm over your chest.

“I am glad you trust me like this,” he whispered back, “I can tell that this is scary for you, but I promise you have nothing to fear. I will take care of you and go at your own pace.”

"Thank you, Mountain," you whispered, barely audible while pressing your lips softly to his knuckles as he lightly rubbed over your chest, "I think I'm ready to start... you can do whatever you need to do. I will follow your lead."

Mountain’s cheeks flushed as you kissed his knuckles, but the sensation only made the moment feel even more intimate. Your trust in him was touching his heart, causing the bond between the two of you to strengthen even more.

“Okay, my Little Dove-“ he whispered back, “I’m going to pull your shirt off of you… is that alright?”

You were still incredibly nervous, but you felt safe at the same time. The way Mountain was verbally walking you through what was happening really made your heart soar with adoration and love towards the older Ghoul.

You nodded your head and relaxed your body, your eyes staring up at Mountain with hazy desire, "Yes, that is okay, Mountain."

As he heard your permission, Mountain took the bottom of your shirt and began to gently pull it up your body. The action made the small hairs on your arm stand up as the fabric of the shirt rubbed against your soft flesh.

He then ran the palm of his hand against your exposed skin, feeling the warmth that your body was radiating through its touch.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, Dove."

A soft blush formed over your cheeks as your stomach was exposed to the Ghoul. You still had your bra on, but that quickly changed as you stuck your thumb underneath the strap and pulled it up and over your head, "You're too kind, Mountain," you mumbled shyly while rolling your shoulders slightly, staring longingly up at the earth-ghoul.

Mountain was surprised to see your sudden movement to take off your bra, though he took the opportunity to look upon the gorgeous sight that was your body. His eyes traced your form, looking at every inch of you. Your breasts were a sight for sore eyes; not too big, not too small. They were perfect, and they made the drummer's mouth water.

"You're absolutely stunning," he said softly as he leaned over and took one of your breasts in his hand.

A small, breathy squeak left your mouth as his large, rough hand gently took hold of your breast. You stared up at him, completely enamoured over how slow and gentle he was making this whole experience for you.

"Thank you," you whispered, a blush dusting your cheeks as Mountain began to squeeze a little bit. You didn't really know what else to say besides 'thank you.'

Mountain lightly squeezed the flesh of your breast in his hand, taking notice of the way your chest rose up as your body reacted to the way he was touching you. He wanted his touch to make you feel good. He carefully rolled your nipple in between his calloused fingers.

“You’re so perfect…” he whispered as he lowered himself down to plant his lips upon your neck as he gently sucked along your flesh.

Based on instinct alone, you craned your neck to the side as the demon began to slowly kiss your neck with slow, open-mouthed kisses. Your breathing continued to slow down as Mountain gently licked at your flesh.

“Mmm, Mountain,” you breathily whispered, your tail wrapping around the earth-ghoul’s torso, softly pulling him closer to you.

Mountain’s body seemed to react to the way your tail wrapped itself around him, a light purr escaped his lips as he continued to worship your neck with his mouth. The drummer's breath from his nose made your neck tickle.

The earth-ghoul left a trail of hot, breathless, kisses across your skin as he continued his path down. Slowly, Mountain reached your breast and licked the nipple with his tongue, lightly flicking the tip.

Even though you were a virgin, you weren’t inexperienced. You had touched yourself before (often at the thought of Mountain), but this was beyond any form of self-pleasure. Mountain’s mouth was bliss. No toy could replicate that.

A strangled moan flew from your lips at the sudden stimulation to your hardening buds. Your hands snaked around Mountain’s neck; entangling in his tight curls that clung to his neck, “W-Woah! M-Mounty! Holy fuck!” you exclaimed pleasurably.

To Mountain, the feeling of your hands entangled in his hair made his head feel fuzzy with a sense of bliss and arousal. A small groan escaped from between his lips as you grasped his hair, the sensation making him want to do even more to you. Make you squirm. Make you gasp. Make you moan.

Mountain continued to tease the sensitive bud of your breast with his mouth, switching between sucking and licking as your grip at the locks of his hair seemed to tighten.

Mountain pulled away from your breast and moved his lips to your ear, whispering softly as he gently kissed your earlobe, “You feel good, Dove?” he whispered gently as he ran his fingers lightly across your stomach “You taste delicious…”

“Y-Yeah, I feel really good,” you murmured while slowly dropping your hands from Mountain’s neck; letting them rest on your breasts. You began to pinch at your nipples, giving them slight stimulation due to Mountain’s lips not being on them at the moment.

“Please keep going, Mounty. Please,” you practically begged, beginning to understand Mountain’s comment about how this would feel uncomfortable at first, then amazing… unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Mountain grinned at the sight. You looked so incredibly good like this, and he was going to take care of you.

His hand gently pushed yours aside as he gently squeezed your breast in his hand again, the skin of his fingers grazing over your puckered nipple as he leaned down and kissed you. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and his touch turned from gentle to slightly rougher as his tongue lightly wrestled with yours.

This kiss didn’t feel full of lust. Sure, arousal was evident between the two Ghouls, but Mountain kissed you with a sense of love. He wanted you in more ways than just body. Mountain loved you as much as you loved him. He wanted you in body and soul.

Hot, open-mouthed kisses were swapped between the two of you. Your hands slowly abandoned your breasts, and instead went to Mountain’s belt. Your eyes were fluttered shut due to being sucked into this moment with the demon, but you had no trouble undoing his belt.

Mountain felt your hands undoing his belt, and his lips stopped moving in their dance as he parted from the deep kiss, his lips slightly swollen by the intensity.

“Is this going too fast?” Mountain whispered, his tone gentle and soft, his breathing hot and shallow. He wanted to make sure he hadn't scared you at all, though the intensity of the kiss made his heart beat rapidly in his chest.

“It’s not for me, Mounty,” you whispered, a bit breathless as he pulled away from the kiss, “Are you okay with this? I know you offered to help me out, but if you don’t want to continue, or this is too fast for you, I won’t be upset.”

You cupped the much larger Ghoul’s face in your hands, placing a small kiss to his flushed cheeks; a smile on your face. Your words were sincere.

Mountain felt the touch of your hands against his flushed cheeks and he felt that warm feeling in his heart. Even though you were nervous and inexperienced at the start, you seemed to be enjoying yourself just as much as he was.

Mountain reached up and grabbed your hands that cupped his cheeks, intertwining his fingers into yours. “Of course, I’m okay with this, darling.” he said softly as he squeezed your hands, “I was just making sure you’re still okay with this!”

You squeezed back, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of the earth-ghoul’s lips, causing Mountain to blush, “You can continue if you’d like.”

You squeezed Mountain’s hands one more time before slipping them back down to the Ghoul’s belt; slowly slipping it out of the belt loops and throwing to to the floor.

Thud.

Mountain’s heart fluttered as you took off his belt. He could see the desire in your eyes, and it only fueled his lust for more. He needed to feel the other Ghoul from the inside.

“May I take off your pants…?” he whispered as he gently stroked your cheek, his touch tender and sweet. There was still a hint of hesitancy in his movements, as if he was still worried that he was moving too fast.

“Mhm,” you hummed, consenting immediately as you pushed down Mountain’s pants all the way to his knees. You propped yourself up on your elbows; your chest shining in the moonlight as Mountain pulled you to the edge of the bed.

You couldn’t help but stare at the tent that was pitched in Mountain’s boxers. He was… huge.

Mountain stared at the state of you on the edge of the bed, your soft curves and smooth skin on display made him want to keep touching you and pleasing you. The drummer didn’t want to stop.

The Ghoul’s hands gently traced down your body, the rough skin trailing over your bare skin as he knelt in front of you, kneeling between your legs.

Mountain swiftly discarded your pants, and with painful slowness, pulled your panties down as well. Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed; your face flushed from the adrenaline rush.

Without a warning, you squealed as you felt something hot and wet lick a strip up your pussy. Your toes immediately curled from the pleasure. It was Mountain’s tongue.

Mountain kept your legs parted as he placed your knees over his shoulders, keeping you spread out before him. His hands gripped your inner thighs, squeezing them gently as his tongue gently licked against the wet folds of your core, causing shrill moans to leave your mouth.

He could taste the sweetness of your wetness, the taste making him want even more. He felt like a horse that had been led to water on a hot, humid day.

“M-Mountain, holy fuck!” you squeaked out while wrapping your legs around the drummer’s neck, keeping his face pressed up and into your cunt, “J-Just don’t stop! -Oh my God- Don’t stop! A-Ah Lucifer!” you moaned out as his forked tongue darted out with such skill.

Mountain felt your legs wrap around his neck as he worked with his tongue to please you. He loved the way you tasted, how sweet and delicious you were. He was in heaven (ironic for a demon, right?), and his tongue seemed to be doing a good enough job at it by the sounds of your moans. He groaned against your pussy, the sound vibrating inside of you.

The Ghoul collected your clit in between his lips, vacuum sealing his mouth to your mound. A strangled moan left your lips; your back arching responsively.

You groaned like an animal in heat as your hips began to slowly move; grinding against Mountain’s swollen lips. Your hands had returned to your chest, and were now roughly pinching your own nipples in time with Mountain’s expert tongue. It hurt in a good way, this overstimulation.

Moan after moan spilled from your lips. This wasn’t a gradual lead up to pleasure; this was immediate.

To Mountain, you looked so incredibly beautiful like this, so lost to the overwhelming pleasure he was bringing to you. It made his heart beat wildly in his chest as he could feel you riding his face, his hands on your hips to help keep you in place.

Your moans and mewls seemed like music to his ears, it gave him an idea… an idea to increase your pleasure even further.

He pulled away from your core and licked his lips, breathing heavily as he looked up at you. His eyes were bright with lust.

“Little Dove, would it be alright if I… slipped my finger inside you?” Mountain asked, the slight edge in his voice evident. He was beginning to grow anxious.

You slowly unwrapped your legs from around Mountain’s neck as you felt him pull away. You panted slightly, your face blushing like a tomato from the pleasure your partner was giving you. Sweat droplets made your face shimmer in the moonlight.

“That sounds very nice,” you whispered in response to the drummer’s question, “Yes, please do whatever you want.”

Mountain could see the look of complete ecstasy on your face as you responded to his question, and it made his heart flutter. He wanted to make you feel good… he wanted to keep going until you were completely satisfied.

With that, he reached up with his hand and gently pushed inside you, the tip of his finger slipping into your pussy. “Is that okay..?” he asked quietly, his breath coming out in a soft pant.

You hummed in pleasure as you felt a tad bit of pressure from Mountain’s rather large digit. Your hips shimmied slightly, trying to create a bit of friction, “Yeah, feels good,” you groaned in confirmation, your head falling backwards as you felt the earth-ghoul begin to move his finger; curling it inside of you.

Mountain began to thrust his finger inside your core, his movements starting out somewhat slow as he looked at you. He wasn’t sure how far you wanted to go with this, and he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Can I add another finger, (Y/N)?” he asked softly, his head rested on your thigh as his finger thrusted inside you slowly. You could feel his hot breath on your thigh, causing goosebumps to cover that area.

“Yes please,” you immediately replied, “Can you also go back to using your mouth again as well? That felt really good, and I feel like it would feel even better with your fingers.”

You were a bit embarrassed to be asking Mountain for such things, but you knew he wouldn’t mind. The older Ghoul was sweet and you knew he cared about you, maybe even more than he cared for anyone else in the band. You knew he wouldn’t mind, and would comply to your request.

Mountain couldn’t help but smile and chuckle slightly at how eager you were to ask (like you knew he would... the cocky bastard), but who was he to deny you?

“Of course I can, Dove. Anything for you…” he whispered as he leaned back down and placed his mouth over your aching, soaked core.

You felt his fingers beginning to move as his mouth returned to that previous position; his fat tongue pulling another scream from your lips. You were right— this combination did feel heavenly.

At first, you were able to just lean back, shut your eyes, and let Mountain work. But, very quickly, the pleasure began to grow, and it grew fast.

You were mewling like a goddamned cat after about 2 minutes of this; your hips aggressively grinding against the much larger Ghoul,

“M-More, please!” you wheezed out, your hands intertwining in his hair. Tears were beginning to prick at your eyes from the sheer amount of pleasure.

Mountain was entranced in his actions, watching you writhe on the edge of the bed, pleasured by his fingers and his tongue as they worked to give you that sweet, sweet release you were begging for. He was loving every second of this.

His fingers moved faster inside your cunt, his mouth working in his own pattern around your sensitive flesh. His groan vibrated against you as you ground your hips onto his face. Your tail even made its way to Mountain’s neck; lightly choking him pleasurably as he moved.

As more choked screams left your lips, stars began to dot over your vision. Your jaw hung slack as your body stiffened up; one last breathy moan leaving your mouth before you hit your first orgasm of the night.

Your fingers pulled at Mountain’s hair, likely making his scalp burn, but you couldn’t help it. The pleasure felt like an explosion going off in your head— all you wanted and needed was more.

Mountain groaned loudly against your core as your orgasm hit hard, the tight fingers tangled in his hair pulling at his scalp as you shook with pleasure. He was breathing through his nose while you quaked, holding himself in place as your legs tightly squeezed around his head. He would swallow every last drop that trickled from your clenching hole.

As your body began to relax a bit more, the earth-ghoul’s fingers and mouth pulled away from where they were, a thin string of your juices connecting them as he took a deep breath. His green eyes marvelled at your swollen entrance; unable to hide his satisfaction.

“How was that, darling?” Mountain asked softly, his voice a light and sweet whisper. “Do you want to continue?”

The drummer gently licked his fingers, cleaning them of your juices.

You slowly pulled your head off the cream-coloured pillows and nodded lazily; your face redder than the Cardinal’s cassock, before running a shaking finger through your folds. Your legs jolted roughly— you were so sensitive after such an intense climax.

“Yes, please continue,” you whispered, your chest glimmering in the moonbeams that carefully filtered in through the blinds due to your sweat.

Your eyes drifted down to Mountain’s cock, which was beginning to drip with precum. You were practically drooling at the sight.

Mountain’s chest heaved with his heavy breaths as he saw the effect he had on you. You looked absolutely beautiful with your hair tussled and skin flushed. His own chest was glistening with a thin layer of sweat; his arousal growing as he noticed you staring at his dick.

Mountain’s prick twitched.

“You seem to like what you see.” Mountain said softly with a grin.

“Can you blame me?” you asked suggestively while flicking your tail. Your spade-tipped tail wrapped around his length without another word, pumping lightly, “I think I’m ready for… the next part of this. I want you to take me, Mountain. I trust you completely.”

'I want to prove Swiss wrong.'

“No… no, I can’t blame you, (Y/N).” Mountain said; his breathing hitched a bit as your tail wrapped around his length. It was an odd sensation, but one that only added to the burning heat of his excitement.

The drummer leaned up over you and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips as your tail pumped his member lightly. “Then I’ll take you as gently and slow as possible.” he whispered against your lips.

You slipped your tongue into Mountain’s mouth as he promised to take you gently and slowly. You could taste yourself on his lips which made your hole clench. Your tail, still pumping his immense size, led Mountain’s cock to your soaked entrance, lining it up. You weren’t worried about protection— you didn’t care. You wanted Mountain skin-to-skin. Animalistically. Authentically.

You watched in arousal as Mountain spat in his hand to provide further lubrication. He was much bigger than you were, and even with his impressive oral skills, you still probably weren’t wet enough to accommodate him.

He slowly rubbed his spit covered, pruned digits over your hole, causing your legs to spasm again. So, so sensitive…

Mountain spit on your mound one more time before slotting himself in between your trembling legs. The Ghoul grasped his cock, pumping it a few times before rubbing it lightly against your swollen clit.

“You’re so wet for me, dove,” he whispered, using his thumb to slowly… antagonizing-slowly, massage your little bundle of nerves, “I’ve got the biggest dick out of any of us in the ministry, yet I can tell you’ll take me just fine. If Swiss tried fucking you like this, he’d slip right out. That cocky son of a bitch couldn't make you feel as good as I can.”

Mountain’s calm and patient side regarding your comfort levels was beginning to fade away. He knew you were consenting to this— he had already asked close to a million times. The earth-ghoul could start acting how he wanted to since you wanted it, and frankly, this cocky side of Mountain was hot to you.

Mountain’s tongue met yours in an intimate dance. He could feel your appreciation for him in that kiss, and he was determined to make you feel as loved and cared for as possible. He knew he was special; and so were you.

As his cockhead was lined up against you, it took all his control to not immediately plunge inside you. “Are you ready Little Dove?” he whispered as he looked at you intently, his chest rising and falling as his breath came out in ragged pants.

Your tail slowly unwrapped from around Mountain’s length as he got ready to begin moving. Your hands gripped onto the duvet below, your head rapidly nodding in confirmation, “Definitely ready.”

Your legs were shaking from anticipation. You had never known you’d need something as intensely as you needed Mountain right now. He was the the sunlight to flowers, or the shepherd to the sheep. He was everything to you.

Mountain looked down at you, seeing you trembling with anticipation, with excitement, with need. And it made his heart flutter once again. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before he began to press inside you, a soft groan leaving his lips as he felt how tight, how wet you were. “Oh, D-Dove,” he whispered, the word rolling off his lips in a ragged breath.

You laid there for a few seconds, your face contorted in pleasure as well as mild discomfort due to Moutain’s thickness. It was probably a good thing that he had spat on his hand to create more lubrication. It wasn’t an uncomfortable discomfort though— it felt right. It was apart of it, and you were pleased to get to experience everything for the first time like this.

“O-Oh, Lucifer!” you swore in pleasure as Mountain sunk all the way in, your mound resting against his abdomen. Mountain put all of his weight onto his arms as he leaned over you. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he stilled, waiting for your confirmation, “M-Move, please.”

Mountain groaned as he felt himself sink all the way inside you, his eyes closing for a moment as he savored the feeling of you surrounding his cock; squeezing it as you breathed. The sound of his name falling from your lips in an almost prayer made his heart flutter.

His self-control shattered at the whimpered plea. ‘Move, please.’ Oh, he’d move. He’d fucking move.

Mountain began to thrust with a slow and steady pace, his breathing coming out in short and ragged pants as he moved over you. His face dropped to the left of yours, his tongue darting out to taste your face.

You slowly wrapped your quivering hands around Mountain’s wrists as he began to slowly thrust deep into you, savouring each movement. It felt biblical… it felt raw and powerful. Squelches due to your wetness echoed through the room, matching the volume of Mountain and your’s growing moans.

You bit your lip as the Ghoul began to speed up; your eyes resting shut from the wave-after-wave of pleasure. You couldn’t even formulate words. All you knew was that you didn’t want your lover to stop. The snapping of his hips was orgasmic; the way his balls began to slap against your ass. The way his dick fit you perfectly. The way the earth-ghoul knew where to strike— hitting your G-spot every single time without fail.

Mountain’s head dipped down against your neck, his breathing warm and ragged against your skin as he began to quicken his pace. His eyes closed as the pleasure consumed him, overwhelmed him, as he moved inside you. Each whimper or mewl you let out only added to his pleasure, and he wanted to hear more.

“Fuck- you sound so beautiful, (Y/N).” he breathed against your skin, his words ragged in between his moans and pants.

You let out unholy noises as Mountain verbally praised you through your fucking. You could feel the drummer's fingers leaving little bruises on your hips as he snapped in and out of you at an increasingly speedy rate. Mountain's body slotted in between your wetted thighs perfectly.

"Deeper!" you commanded while beginning to move your hips in sync with the Ghoul's thrusts, "I need more of y-you, Mountain! Fuck me! Fuck me!" This moment was unlocking a side of you that you didn't know existed.

Mountain groaned loudly as you began to move in sync with his thrusts, his grip on your hips tightening at your words and actions. “ Holy hell… “ he whispered against your neck as he began to pick up the pace more.

Your moans and mewls sounded like they were coming straight from the pits of hell, and the thought of you becoming feral and untamed under his touch sent a shiver down Mountain’s shiver. This was giving the earth-ghoul more adrenaline than any performance with the clergy's band.

“ You want more-? Need more of me? “ he grunted out as he began to thrust into you with a harder force.

Mountain forced his hands underneath your hips in order to angle you downwards, effectively deepening his thrusts as you had requested. A shrill shriek, sounding authentic and similar to those noises you Ghouls made in Hell, left your lips. It sounded alike to a goat bleat and a woman's scream from some cheesy horror film from the 70s.

Your hand trailed down to your swollen clit, stroking it aggressively to optimize your pleasure. You would definitely have to give Mountain back as much as he's giving you right now. Today wasn't the day, though. Today was about you.

"Need m-more of you. Holy Hell, don't stop!" you begged, your voice coming out all pathetic and in a begging manner. You were so incredibly cock-drunk for your partner. Your stomach clenched, and a fiery inferno of pleasure wracked your soul. You were so fucking close.

Lucifer you were beautiful like this— writhing and moaning with pleasure on the bed, a complete mess beneath him.

“Oh- oh Dove..."

Your begging was making his brain short-circuit.

You screamed in pain mixed with pleasure as Mountain sunk his fangs into your collarbone, effectively drawing blood. Your flesh muted his panted words, but you could still make it out. It was in the demonic tongue only you and the other Ghouls could understand.

Amongst the demonic grunts and growls... a simple phrase.

"You are now mine!"

You felt the earth-ghoul explode inside of you. His stamina was still at a peak as he slammed as far into your tight cunt as he could, spilling every last drop into your womb. Curses and obscenities erupted from your lips as you came for the second time today.

Your pussy violently milked Mountain's twitching dick dry. Stars dazzled over your vision as you experienced the most pleasurable and painful orgasm of your life. This was what Lucifer ordered Papa to preach about during his unholy sermons. This was what you had been missing out on. Mountain was what you had been missing out on...

There wasn't a single drop of cum left in the Ghoul's prick by the time your orgasm had passed. Mountain slowly removed his teeth from your flesh, his forked tongue emerging from his cracked and swollen lips to lap up your blood.

"I'm sorry," the earth-ghoul shyly apologized while pulling himself out of your soaking cunt, "I didn't mean to bite you."

Your hands went up and lightly stroked his flushed cheeks. You'd always thought Mountain was beautiful... but now? He was ethereal.

"I don't give a fuck about that," you said while giggling, pressing your lips to his, "You just gave me the best night of my life, and you're apologizing for making me bleed? You're trying too hard, Mounty."

The drummer purred as you used his nickname, his spade-tipped tail swooshing in the air as he slowly got out of the bed.

"Shut up. Just sit there and look pretty while I help you clean up."

Mountain sauntered to his bathroom and returned a minute later with a damp towel and some tissues. He was walking with an intoxicating aura. It was obvious he just fucked and had a good time, which made your chest swell with appreciation. He enjoyed himself as much as you had.

He was walking with the mentality that he had made you feel this good.

Not even Swiss could do that... and Mountain took great pride in that.

[haesunshin]

sunset serenade | LTY

pairing: taeyong x f!reader ft. bff jaehyun, johnny and haechan

word count. 4.3k

genre. university!au, classmates, angst, fluff, romance. enemies to friends to lovers

summary. Y/N navigates through the bustling halls of university life, surrounded by close friends Johnny, Haechan, and Jaehyun. Her world shifts when she's paired with Taeyong for a university project, despite a childhood marked by a painful separation. Initially fueled by mutual animosity, Y/N and Taeyong gradually uncover shared memories that reignite deep emotions. Through late-night study sessions and unexpected encounters, their hostility transforms into a tentative friendship, and eventually, an unexplainable attraction.

a/n. i'm sorry i haven't been as active i would want to be, but i came back with a new ff and i hope you will like it <3

feedbacks, likes and reposts are appreciated!

---

I jolt awake as my alarm reads 7:30 AM. Another day at university. I stretch, get up, and peek out the window. The campus is already alive with activity. I grab my bag and head out to meet my friends at the cafeteria.

As I enter the cafeteria, I immediately spot Haechan, Johnny, and Jaehyun sitting at our usual table. Haechan is engrossed in his phone, Johnny is telling a joke to Jaehyun, who is laughing heartily.

"Hey, everyone," I greet as I sit down with them.

"Hey, Y/N," Johnny replies with a smile. "Ready for another day of classes?"

"Please don’t even talk about it," I say, laughing. "So, what's new?"

"Not much," Haechan responds. "Just the same old stuff. Johnny's telling his lame jokes again."

"You know you love them," Johnny retorts, chuckling.

I smile and turn to Jaehyun. "And you? What's new?"

"Just looking forward to the end of this semester," he says. "I think we're all eager for a break."

We finish our breakfast, chatting about various things, before heading to our first class. On the way, I notice Johnny talking to a guy who looks strangely familiar. I squint, trying to place where I've seen him before, but nothing comes to mind.

"Who's that guy with Johnny?" Jaehyun asks, noticing my curiosity.

"I don't know," I answer. "But he does look familiar."

---

Walking into biochemistry class, I take my usual seat. Mr. Kim, our professor, enters the room with a stack of papers in hand. He smiles at the class before addressing us.

"Good morning, everyone. Today, we're starting a group project that will last the entire semester. I've already assigned the groups, so listen carefully."

I take a deep breath, hoping to be paired with one of my friends. Mr. Kim starts reading out the names, and my heart sinks when he announces:

"Y/N and Taeyong."

I look around, searching for Taeyong. When our eyes meet, I immediately notice the coldness in his gaze. He doesn't seem pleased at all to be paired with me, which leaves me puzzled.

"Hi," I say, approaching him after class.

"Hi," he responds curtly, not even looking up from his notebook.

"I guess we'll be working together," I say, trying to lighten the mood.

"Seems like it," he says without any warmth, leaving.

And I’m leftI wondering why he's so cold towards me, especially since he seems to be good friends with Johnny. What did I do to deserve this?

---

The first few weeks of our group project are tense. Taeyong and I struggle to get along and our meetings are often filled with silence and unspoken tension. We work in our dorms, in cafés, and at the library, but the atmosphere remains frosty.

One day, while chatting with Johnny, I decide to ask him about Taeyong.

"John, do you perhaps know why Taeyong is acting so cold to me?"

He thinks for a moment before answering. "I'm not sure, but I know he went through some tough times in middle school. Maybe it has something to do with that."

That's when memories start coming back. Taeyong... that name, that face... everything suddenly becomes clear. He was the one who saved me that night at the end of middle school. How could I have forgotten?

---

(Flashback). It’s the end of our last year of middle school. The air is filled with excitement and chatter as students gather for the end-of-year party. I’m surrounded by my friends, laughing and enjoying the festivities, when suddenly, a group of older students appears. They're known troublemakers, their smirks and glances filled with malice.

I feel a knot of unease in my stomach as they approach, eyeing me with disdain. One of them, taller and more intimidating than the rest, steps forward. "So, you think you're better than us, huh?" he sneers, his voice laced with venom.

I glance nervously at my friends, but before anyone can react, the situation escalates. Rough hands grab me, pulling me away from the safety of my group and into a dimly lit alley behind the school. Panic grips me as I struggle against their grip, my heart racing with fear.

"Let her go!" a voice rings out, breaking through the tense silence. I recognize the voice instantly—Taeyong. He emerges from the shadows, his presence commanding despite his slight frame. His eyes are steely with determination as he steps between me and the bullies.

"Leave her alone," he says firmly, his voice betraying only a hint of nervousness.

The leader of the group scoffs, his smirk widening. "What are you gonna do about it, huh? You think you can take us all on?"

Taeyong squares his shoulders, his fists clenched at his sides. "I said, leave her alone."

For a moment, time seems to stand still. Then, with a sudden burst of aggression, the bullies lunge at Taeyong. He fights back bravely, trading blows and dodging attacks with surprising agility. Despite being outnumbered, he holds his ground, his determination unwavering.

The alley echoes with the sounds of grunts and shuffling feet, but Taeyong doesn’t back down. He fights not just to defend me, but to protect something deeper—a sense of justice and courage that shines through even in the face of danger.

Finally, adults arrive, drawn by the commotion. They quickly intervene, pulling the students apart and dispersing the crowd. Taeyong stands battered and bruised, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek, but his gaze finds mine with a faint, reassuring smile.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice trembling with gratitude and relief.

---

As I fully recover and remember the events, I’m overwhelmed with guilt. How could I have forgotten what he did for me? Why is he so cold now? I need to know. But every time I try to approach him, he ignores me or becomes even more distant.

The weeks pass by, filled with tense meetings and strained interactions between Taeyong and me as we work on our biochemistry project. Each session is marked by awkward silences and terse exchanges, a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie I share with Johnny, Haechan, and Jaehyun.

One afternoon, after another particularly silent study session in the library, I decide it’s time to confront Taeyong about his cold demeanor. I catch up with him as we leave the library together.

"Taeyong," I begin tentatively, falling into step beside him, "can we talk?"

He glances at me briefly, his expression guarded. "About what?"

"About us," I reply honestly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. "About why things have been so... strained between us."

He keeps walking, his pace steady but his eyes avoiding mine. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I pause, feeling frustration and hurt bubbling up inside me. "Taeyong, we used to be friends in middle school. What happened to that?"

He stops abruptly, turning to face me with a mixture of anger and sadness in his eyes. "That was a long time ago, Y/N. A lot has changed since then."

"But why are you so distant with me?" I press, my voice pleading for understanding. "You're friends with Johnny. What did I do to make you treat me like this?"

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. "It's not about you, okay? It's... it's complicated."

"Then help me understand," I implore, stepping closer to him. "Please, Taeyong. I want to know."

For a moment, he looks torn, his emotions warring within him. Finally, he speaks, his voice quiet but filled with pain. "Do you remember that night at the end of middle school?"

I nod slowly, remembering the fear and relief of that evening. "Yes, of course."

"After that night," he continues, his gaze fixed on the ground, "things changed for me. I felt... abandoned."

My heart sinks as I realize the depth of his feelings. "Taeyong, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"You left," he interrupts softly, his voice cracking with emotion. "You left without saying goodbye."

"I didn't know what to do," I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes. "My parents moved us away so suddenly."

He shakes his head, his frustration evident. "You don't understand. I needed you, and you weren't there."

"I know," I reply, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry, Taeyong. I'm so sorry."

He looks at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and longing. "I tried to forget about that night, about you. But every time I saw you again, it brought back all those feelings."

"I never meant to hurt you," I say earnestly, reaching out to touch his arm. "I wish I could go back and change things."

He pulls away gently, his expression conflicted. "It's not that simple, Y/N."

"I know," I say softly, my heart breaking for the pain I've caused him. "But I want to try to make things right. Please, Taeyong."

---

Our meetings for the project continue in our dorms. Despite our initial animosity, a certain camaraderie begins to form between Taeyong and me. Gradually, I find myself enjoying his company more than I expected.

One evening, as we were working late in the library, Taeyong breaks the usual silence with a question. "So, Y/N, what made you choose biochemistry?"

I look up from my notes, surprised by his sudden interest. "Oh, well, I've always been fascinated by how living organisms function at a molecular level. It's like solving a puzzle, piece by piece."

He nods thoughtfully. "That makes sense. It's impressive."

"Thanks," I reply, feeling a bit flustered by his compliment. "And what about you? What's your passion?"

Taeyong hesitates for a moment, as if considering his answer carefully. "I've always been drawn to music," he finally says. "It's my way of expressing myself when words fail."

"That's beautiful," I remark, genuinely touched by his honesty.

As the night progresses, our conversation flows more freely. We share anecdotes about our childhood, discuss our favorite books and movies, and even joke about our initial dislike for each other. Surprisingly, Taeyong has a dry sense of humor that catches me off guard, making me laugh more than once.

At one point, he looks at me with a small smile. "You know, Y/N, I’m glad we started things over, you're not as bad as I thought you were."

I chuckle softly. "Likewise, Taeyong. Turns out, we might actually make a decent team."

He nods in agreement. "Yeah, I guess we do."

---

As weeks pass and our project nears completion, Taeyong and I find ourselves meeting one last time at a cozy café near campus. The atmosphere is serene, with soft jazz music playing in the background and the comforting aroma of coffee filling the air.

I arrive a few minutes early and settle into a corner booth, watching the door anxiously until Taeyong walks in with a warm smile. He sits across from me, and we exchange brief greetings before diving into our project notes.

"So, for this section," Taeyong begins, pointing to a paragraph in our report, "I think we should emphasize the implications of the latest research findings."

I nod in agreement, impressed by his insights. "That would definitely strengthen our argument," I agree, jotting down some notes.

As we discuss our ideas and make final adjustments, I can't help but notice the ease with which we work together now. The initial tension has given way to a shared sense of purpose and mutual respect.

After a while, Taeyong sets down his pen and leans back in his chair, studying me thoughtfully. "Y/N," he starts, his voice gentle, "this project is almost done."

I look up from my notes, meeting his gaze curiously. "Yeah, it's hard to believe it's almost over."

He nods slowly. "Yeah... which means we won't have to meet like this anymore."

A pang of sadness tugs at my heart as I realize the implications of his words. "Yeah," I reply softly, trying to mask the disappointment in my voice. "I guess we won't."

Taeyong frowns slightly, his expression conflicted. "I've... I've enjoyed working with you, Y/N."

"Me too," I admit quietly, my gaze dropping to the table. "It's been... surprisingly nice."

He leans forward, his voice earnest. "Y/N, I..." He trails off, as if unsure how to continue.

I look up at him, my heart racing with anticipation. "Taeyong?"

He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. "I just... I want you to know that I appreciate you," he says finally, his words carefully chosen. "For everything. For being patient with me, for understanding."

A warmth spreads through me at his words, and I realize with a jolt that my feelings for him have grown beyond friendship. But I hesitate, unsure if now is the right time to confess.

"I appreciate you too, Taeyong," I reply softly, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "More than you know."

He smiles back, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Thank you, Y/N."

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the unspoken tension between us palpable. I want to tell him how I feel, to let him know that my feelings have changed, but the words catch in my throat.

"Taeyong," I start tentatively, breaking the silence, "what happens after this project?"

He looks at me, his expression thoughtful. "I guess... we go back to our lives," he says quietly, his gaze dropping to his hands.

A wave of disappointment washes over me, mingled with regret for not speaking up sooner. "Yeah," I murmur, feeling a lump in my throat. "Back to normal."

But inside, nothing feels normal anymore. Everything has changed between us, and I'm left grappling with the realization that I might have missed my chance to tell Taeyong how I truly feel.

As we gather our belongings to leave the café, I steal glances at Taeyong, my heart heavy with unspoken words. The weight of what could have been hangs between us, a silent ache that I'm not sure how to heal.

But as we part ways, I cling to a flicker of hope—that maybe, just maybe, there will be another chance for us, another moment where I can find the courage to confess my feelings and hope he feels the same way too.

---

After our emotional conversation at the café, I feel overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. That evening, I decide to FaceTime Haechan, Johnny, and Jaehyun to share everything that has happened with Taeyong. They answer almost immediately, their faces filled with curiosity and concern.

"Y/N! What's going on? You look like you've been through a rollercoaster," Johnny exclaims, leaning closer to the screen.

"Yeah, spill it!" Haechan chimes in, his expression serious but playful.

I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself as I recount the story of Taeyong and me—from our childhood friendship to our recent reconciliation over the biochemistry project. They listen intently, their expressions shifting from surprise to empathy.

"So, let me get this straight," Jaehyun says slowly, processing the information. "You've been harboring feelings for Taeyong all this time?"

I nod, feeling a rush of nerves as I admit the truth to my friends. "Yeah. I think... I think I've fallen for him."

Haechan lets out a whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Wow, Y/N. That's intense."

Johnny leans closer to the camera, his voice gentle. "What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," I reply honestly, feeling a mix of hope and uncertainty. "I think... maybe I should tell him how I feel."

"You've got to talk to him," Jaehyun adds, his tone encouraging. "You owe it to yourself, Y/N. Don't let fear hold you back."

Their words resonate deeply within me, filling me with determination. "You're right," I say with a small smile. "I'll talk to him."

As we say our goodbyes and end the call, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. Tomorrow, I'll face Taeyong and finally confess what's been in my heart all this time.

---

The next day arrives swiftly, and with it, a mix of nerves and excitement as Taeyong and I prepare to present our biochemistry project to the class. Mr. Kim welcomes us warmly as we step up to the front of the room, the PowerPoint slides ready and our notes organized.

"Today, Y/N and Taeyong will be presenting their research on enzyme kinetics," Mr. Kim announces to the class, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Taeyong and I exchange a quick glance, our nerves momentarily forgotten as we launch into our presentation. We speak with confidence, explaining our findings and analysis with clarity and enthusiasm. As we reach the conclusion, I feel a sense of pride knowing how far we've come together.

Mr. Kim listens attentively throughout, nodding approvingly at key points and occasionally interjecting with insightful questions. When we finish, he applauds warmly, a smile of satisfaction spreading across his face.

"Excellent work, Y/N and Taeyong," he praises, his voice resonating with genuine admiration. "You've demonstrated a deep understanding of the subject matter and presented your research with clarity and precision. I'm truly impressed."

Taeyong and I exchange grateful smiles, the tension of the presentation melting away in the glow of Mr. Kim's praise. As we gather our things to leave, I catch Haechan, Johnny, and Jaehyun's proud smiles from the back of the room, their silent encouragement giving me a surge of confidence.

---

After class, the campus bustles with students heading off to their next destinations. I remember my friends words and linger near the classroom, summoning the courage to finally confront Taeyong about something I've been avoiding for far too long.

"Hey, Taeyong," I begin, trying to keep my voice steady despite the nervousness bubbling inside me. "Can we talk?"

He hesitates for a moment, then nods slowly. "Sure, Y/N. What's on your mind?"

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I gather my thoughts. "I... I was wondering if we could meet later this afternoon. Maybe at the park?"

His eyebrows furrow with curiosity. "Sure, but why?"

"There's something important I need to discuss with you," I reply, feeling a surge of nerves and anticipation.

Taeyong's expression softens, and he gives me a small smile. "Okay, Y/N. I'll meet you there."

As the afternoon arrives, I find myself at the park, anxiously waiting for Taeyong. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. I've dressed in a floral dress, hoping to look pretty, and with an hopeful feeling inside me despite my jittery nerves.

When Taeyong arrives, he looks genuinely surprised to see me there, setting up a small picnic under a shady tree. He sits down beside me, and we start chatting casually, the unspoken tension between us palpable.

After a while, the conversation naturally slows, and I gather my courage. "Taeyong," I begin, my voice trembling slightly, "there's something I need to tell you."

He turns to me, his gaze intense and expectant. "What is it, Y/N?"

He listens attentively, his gaze unwavering as I gather my thoughts. "I... I've realized that... I've developed feelings for you, Taeyong," I confess, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment and hope.

He blinks in surprise, his expression momentarily unreadable. For a moment, he doesn't say anything, his eyes searching mine with a mixture of surprise and contemplation. Then, without warning, he steps closer, gently cupping my face in his hands, he suddenly leans in and kisses me softly, his lips warm against mine. My heart skips a beat as I melt into the kiss, overwhelmed yet exhilarated by the rush of emotions.

When we finally pull back, Taeyong rests his forehead against mine, his eyes searching mine tenderly. "Y/N," he murmurs softly, his voice tinged with emotion, "I've... I've loved you for a long time, since middle school, actually."

I gasp softly, my heart swelling with joy and relief. "But... why didn't you say anything?"

He sighs, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. "After you moved away, I thought... I thought you had forgotten about me. Seeing you again at university brought back everything I felt back then. But I didn't know how to tell you."

Tears well up in my eyes as I realize the depth of his feelings. "Taeyong, I'm so sorry," I whisper, guilt washing over me. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

He pulls me into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around me protectively. "I'm sorry for pushing you away," he murmurs against my hair. "I should have been more mature about everything."

I bury my face in his shoulder, feeling the weight of past misunderstandings finally lifting. "Thank you, Taeyong," I murmur, my voice muffled against his shirt. "Thank you for being patient with me."

"It's okay," I reply, tears of relief and happiness streaming down my cheeks. "I understand now."

He pulls back slightly, cupping my face in his hands. "No more apologies, okay? We both made mistakes. But now, we can move forward together."

I nod, a smile spreading across my face. "Together."

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over us, we continue our picnic and we stand together in the embrace, our hearts finally open and our feelings laid bare, sharing stories and laughter. The air is filled with a newfound sense of closeness and understanding, a promise of a future where our love can blossom freely.

And in that moment, beneath the fading light of a sunny afternoon, I know that everything we've been through has led us to this beautiful, unexpected love—a love that I will cherish for the rest of my life, and as we walk home hand in hand, I know that with Taeyong by my side, I've found not only love but also forgiveness and a chance to heal the scars of our past, together.

Epilogue:

The next morning, Taeyong and I arrive at our class hand in hand, both of us sporting wide smiles that we can't seem to wipe off our faces. As we step through the door, the playful whistles and cheers from our friends greet us.

"Look who finally made it official!" Jaehyun exclaims with a grin, earning laughter from Johnny.

Haechan playfully whines, "I'm so jealous! Sick of being single, you know?"

This earns a round of laughter from everyone, including Taeyong and me. Jaehyun and Johnny clap us on the back, grinning broadly. "About time, you two figured it out!" Johnny exclaims with a chuckle. "You had us all waiting forever."

Jaehyun nods in agreement. "Seriously, though, we're really happy for you guys. You make a great couple."

Taeyong and I exchange a shy smile, as he squeezes my hand gently, his eyes shining with happiness and relief. "Thank you, guys," he says sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude. "For everything."

As we settle into our seats, the warmth of our friends' support surrounds us like a comforting embrace. The class continues with Mr. Kim congratulating us on our project, commending our teamwork and dedication, Mr. Kim notices the commotion and smiles knowingly. "I'm glad to see teamwork paying off both in and out of the classroom," he remarks, giving us a nod of approval.

Throughout the day, Taeyong and I are inseparable, stealing glances and sharing secret smiles. It feels like the beginning of something beautiful, a journey we're finally taking together after so many missed chances and misunderstandings.

After class, as we gather our belongings to head to lunch, Taeyong leans in close to me. "I'm glad we took that chance yesterday," he whispers, his voice soft but filled with certainty.

I smile up at him, feeling a rush of love and gratitude. "Me too," I reply quietly. "I wouldn't change a thing."

[l4zyb0n35]

I’M OKAY

PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Ghost has came back from a harsh mission, most likely beaten to the core, and his S/o arrives worried sick. But, Simon can reassure her that everything will be alright.

WARNINGS: Implied Relationship between Simon and Reader, Reader’s gender is female, Injury and Medical Descriptions, Hospital Setting, Emotional Distress, War/Military Themes, Angst (comfort at the end).

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.<

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

Nor Simon Riley or Ghost were a man of feelings. She was never a man of reassurance and all the ‘little things’ like that.

That is, until he met Y/n.

Y/n, who introduced him to feelings, who introduced him to reassurance.

And today was a day for both of those things.

Simon was laying in a janky hospital bed, drenching in what he learned to be called, ‘guilt’, after he received a call from his s/o, panicking over the phone on how he didn’t call her sooner.

He knew she would be worried sick, furthermore mad. And truthfully, so was he- well, not mad. Just worried sick, terrified even.

The mission was going somewhat smooth at first, just to catch some intel from a base in the coast of Mexíco. But, with that being said, he hadn’t expected to fall into an inferno along the way. After two days, he managed to dig himself out, covered in burns, most of which where on his body that wasn’t currently under direct sunlight. His bones ached, he head hurt, and even in the hands of the surgeons and doctors taking care of him post-mission, nothing is comparing to the guilt he has to this moment.

And then the door slammed open, emptying out a troubled Y/N and a slightly annoyed, slightly worried doctor following behind, trying to inform her of the injuries listed on his clipboard.

Simon noticed her presence as soon as they walked in, letting out a heavy sigh before the doctor started talking, the worry clearly written all over her face as she listened.

When the doctor left the two of you alone, finally, Y/n tugged a heavy sigh out her bones and turned to Simon.

“…It’s my job.” Simon said, already knowing what she’s going to say. He turned his head back to the wall in front of him he quite fondly stared at often.

“…I know, I just…” Y/n began, trailing off as she stood beside his bed anxiously. Her eyes fell to the clipboard she held in her hand, a small amount of reading material with his list of injuries still popping out to the couple in bold, almost mocking them.

“It won’t happen again.” Simon assured her, reaching out to gasp her hand in reassurance.

Y/n scoffed, putting the clipboard aside on the bedside table, “Si, we both know that…you’re gonna get hurt…on a lot of more missions…” Y/n said, trying get some eye contact with him as she turned his head towards hers softly. She looked sad, and he didn’t like that.

“…Well, then…” Simon began, rubbing her palm with his thumb, “…Think of it as…i won’t not call again. So you’ll know sooner, yeah?” He Explained. “Since we both know that there’s no getting out of…um…getting hurt.”

Y/n let out a tired chuckle, dragging a chair over to the side of the bed and sitting down, laying her head on the edge, just near his thigh.

“I’d like that.” She replied.

The silence fell between them as Simon began to rub her scalp through her hair, broken only by the soft, gentle beeping coming from the machine beside the bed. Y/n silently dozing off from all the stress, and Simon silently thanking the workers outside this room, roaming the hospital.

Those workers, somewhere in this god forsaken building, just doing their job, and Simon was alive because of it. And he thanked the heavens above for it.

As long as his dear S/o knew that everything would be okay.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

END NOTES: This is really short and i don’t like things being short so…smut for part two i guess. But don’t get mad if i go on a 2 month hiatus again. 👅

-Lynn Lazybones

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

MASTERLIST LINK

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Another snippet of Heartstopper AU because I was asked to share some of the locked in the music room incident between Mirabel and Moana.

This is actually what happened in the music room, skipping over Mirabel panicking for the first couple minutes. Moana sits Mirabel down and confesses her feelings for her - long overdue, I know, but they are teens; give them a break.

First part here for anyone who missed it.

Specifically by @dandylion94.

“Please? Anyone?”

Moana tried not to watch Mirabel as she called out from beyond the locked door. She wouldn’t say she was surprised by the reaction - who would be thrilled to be trapped in a room? Never mind the fact she is meant to be on stage by now. She couldn’t help but feel bad for her crush.

“I don’t think anyone is coming,” she said.

Mirabel sighed, “Of course not. It is after hours. And everyone who is here is in the hall. I just thought… maybe someone would have been sent after me, perhaps.”

“You aren’t really shouting either.” Moana pointed out.

“I refuse to interrupt if they have already started. I knew I shouldn’t have taken my watch off.” Mirabel glanced back for a moment. “Are you sure your device has no power? You haven’t just turned it off or locked yourself out? It would be the sort of thing Camilo or one of his friends would do.”

“I’m sure my phone is dead, yeah.” Moana waved her hand a little in thought. “You don’t think we’re all stupid, do you?”

“I never said that,” Mirabel retorted. “But… I have never seen any one of you pick up a book and try studying for your exams. If it isn’t stupidity, it is carelessness.”

Mirabel finally shifted away from the door, admitting defeat. She settled back down beside the table where she had left her flute atop of the missing sheet music. Moana had been watching her pace and stare and plead with God in the far corner, not exactly sure what to say to her now that push had come to shove. Fortunately, it would not be her to break the silence.

“Why are you here?” Mirabel asked.

She raised an eyebrow slightly at the younger, “What do you mean?”

“You aren't part of the orchestra. You don’t need to be in school and you certainly had no permission to come back into the departments after hours.” Mirabel paused. “Hence my question: why are you here?”

“I bought a ticket to watch,” she replied.

“It still doesn’t give you access to come back here. You can’t be here, you don’t even take music!” Mirabel countered.

“Well, I do take drama—”

“Well, this is a music room.”

“—And I wanted to talk to you.”

“You couldn’t have picked a less opportune moment if you tried. I am meant to be on stage at this point and instead I’m locked in here because you wanted to talk.”

“I didn’t realise it was so close to the start of performance, but it took me a while to find—”

“What would you need to talk to me about anyways? You’re Camilo’s friend, not mine. I understand you are the only girl of a group and being surrounded by men all the time must be terrible, and I’m the closest one of Camilo’s family to your age, but that doesn’t automatically mean we are friends.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to tell you—”

“We barely even know each other. I only know what Camilo has yapped about - and bear in mind that is only explained through internet jokes I don’t get and his limited vocabulary. Would it hurt him to read a book?” Mirabel went on. Perhaps not noticing the other was talking. “I don’t even need your companionship. I could make friends, if I wanted. I’m the one who pulled away from my old friend group, not the other way around. I’m sure they appreciated having an intelligent person to leech off for good grades to keep their parents happy, so they were continuously allowed out to smoke and drink and touch. It is not my fault that I can act like a child and not think of such adult matters. I am diligently working to secure my future and that’s actually better than—”

“MIRABEL!”

She hadn’t meant to yell, but she wanted the girl’s attention and needed Mirabel to be quiet long enough to hear her out.

Mirabel’s mouth snapped shut and she looked up at her in some mix of confusion and sorrowful shock. But didn’t seem to take offence. (Moana reckons that she’s well aware she rambles). After a moment, she looked away, pretending to have spotted a spec of dirt on her flute and trying to clean it off with her sleeve.

Taking a deep breath, Moana swung her legs off the chair she had been sitting on and approached Mirabel.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you,” she said. “Will you sit for a moment? We can talk after, or just sit here in silence if you’d like, but I need you to listen to me for a minute. Okay?”

Mirabel’s eyes danced for a moment, clearly trying to read her face and workout where this was going. Moana gladly took the free opportunity to admire them close up. When did they get so close? Had she stepped closer than she meant to? Had Mirabel moved? To be honest… they were almost, almost close enough to kiss.

Finally, Mirabel stepped aside to the closest chair. “You can have as many minutes as you’d like,” she answered. “It has been made very clear to me that no one is coming for me anytime soon. Good to know how important I was as the lead flutist.”

Moana couldn’t help but laugh a little at the snark. It helped soothe some of her nerves and pull her away from thoughts about their closeness. And the hope they might get closer still.

“Right, well, um… do you remember the Monday before prom?” She started. Gesturing a little with her hands - at least she could pretend that Mirabel was tentatively watching them as oppose to staring down her soul, still trying to workout what this was all about. “Camilo, Marco and I were all dressed up in costumes for the drama apartment; Milo played the trumpet really badly and we read some Shakespearean nonsense to you; the same day Luisa was late to get you?”

“Yes, the eleventh. I remember.” Mirabel replied.

“Okay, that was me trying to ask you to go to prom with me. Like a date.” Moana paused, putting emphasis on the word and ensuring there could be no understanding this time. “I had realised the week before that I had a crush on you. And Milo said that would be the best idea to impress you. It was a bit over the top for me, but I was willing to do it for you. But it obviously didn't really work. And then at prom… you, well, you left for most of it for some reason I didn’t get?”

“Luisa took me to the museum. It was a block behind the venue for prom,” Mirabel supplied, smiling a bit. “But I never wanted to go to prom anyways.”

Well, that certainly explained why the prom proposal went so poorly.

“When you did get back, you did let me have a few dances with you.” That same blush crept back into her face. “It was nice.” Recollecting herself, she continued, “I like you, Mirabel. I really like you.”

Mirabel’s jaw hit the floor.

“I’m sorry if I’ve come off annoying for the last while but it’s because I liked you and wanted to spend time with you, get to know you. A bit curious if you maybe felt the same way about me - or could feel the same way. But I can promise that I never meant to offend you in any way, everything has been out of love. It’s just hard… you are so unique and different and I can never tell what you are thinking at any moment, I have tried and I will continue to try if… if you’d let me be your girlfriend. Would you?”

Mirabel didn’t even blink.

“Mirabel? ..You okay?” She asked.

The younger swallowed, “Can you repeat all of that? I think I misheard.”

[thecr0wthatjamz]

Thinking real hard about being Load!Era Jason Newsted’s partner rn…

Sfw

•He’d come home after rehearsals and be so tired! But you’d be greeting him with a hot meal, takeout, or fast food and a hug that makes it all worth it!

•He’d love, LOVE, LOVE to lay his head on your chest. Bonus points if you scrape your nails against his scalp and/or neck!

•He wouldn’t be the best cook. But I think he’d make the best scrambled eggs and pancakes! So every Sunday he’d either wake you up for breakfast in bed or would wait until you woke up so that he could make eggs and pancakes and you could make bacon and sausages!

•With all the crazy things that have happened on tour, one of his favorite past times with you became you doing some gardening while he painted in the yard in a comfortable silence! Sometimes he’d bring out a boombox and play cassette tapes of either Bob Marley or Elvis.

•On his days off from touring that he came home, you two would sit in the bath together. He’d be leaning back against you and with the damage he’s done to his neck, you’d be massaging his neck as well! Added bonus; he loves bubble baths.

•He loves giving you forehead kisses.

•When he’s away on tour, he’d leave you one of his Sepultura hoodies, since it smells so much like his cologne!

•Whenever he holds you, sometimes he’ll let you steal his glasses and wear them. He’d think you’re absolutely adorable.

•During this point in his life, his love language is either words of affirmation, physical touch, or acts of service. With all he had to go through with the boys in Metallica, he would do everything in his power to make sure that what you do, and just your presence alone, is greatly appreciated by him!

•I am a firm believer that when he receives a compliment, he gets a dumb little smile on his face with a blush before looking down at his hands or feet, awkwardly saying ‘thank you’! But I also believe that on nights where his confidence may be particularly low or his depression was really bad, he might tear up a little bit and would hide it with kisses.

•On nights where he can’t sleep due to his insomnia, he’s love to stare at you and at some point in the night, will start to trace your cheek with his thumb! Sometimes when he does that, you’d wake up and will always cuddle close to his chest.

[the-bofurin-digest]

Haruka Sakura Casual Headcanons

Casual headcanons

~ Irrational fear of dolls, clowns, and birds (seagulls) ~ believed a sock of dry rice heated up in the microwave for two minutes can heal any injury and cure any illness ~ Lowkey an ice cream lover. Like a basic vanilla/chocolate swirl soft serve, goes toward berry flavors when it's hand dipped ice cream, would KILL to have a banana split every day of his life ~ likes ice when it's the “fancy” ice (not cubed, chipped ice) in his drinks. Easier to chomp on when he's anxious too ~ listens to a Japanese 80s city pop playlist as he's getting ready in the morning.  ~ strict on oral hygiene. Can't go to sleep until he's thoroughly flossed, brushed, and rinsed.  ~ makes his hair messy on purpose. Thinks it makes him look intimidating or cool. ~ Loves autumn rainy days. Likes the smell of the damp leaves and how quiet and still everything is, especially in the early morning. ~ black and white sci fi movies are some of his favorite things to watch. He thinks the alien costumes are funny. ~ I feel like he would secretly be interested in something like snowboarding. Something he is willing to try if ever given the chance.

Dating Headcanons

~ The two of you would meet in the most CHEESY way possible. Picture this: It's a rainy evening and Sakura just missed the bus, and the next one doesn't run for the next hour. So there he is, sitting alone and grumpy in the rain, when all of a sudden he hears a small voice speak up behind him as he finds himself suddenly sharing an umbrella with you. ~ Naturally, he becomes flustered and yells about sneaking up on a stranger like that, but instead of being scared or taken aback, he becomes confused when you laugh and tell him "oh, you would rather be soaked to the bone then? Okay!" He will grumble about not meaning that, shove his hands in his pockets, and try and decide to either stand there awkwardly in silence for the next hour or suffer and make small talk ~Best hour of his life. ~ Love Language when receiving love: Acts of service. When you do something for him, like match his socks on laundry day or pack him a lunch, it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Even though he communicates that in a bit of a brash way, he really appreciates all the things you do for him like that ~ Love Language when giving love: Quality time. When he goes out of his way to spend time with you or see you, that's when you know things are real with him. Also, acts of service. He wants to return the favors you do for him, even if it's something he is reluctant to do. ~ Not really big into actual dates or planning them. His favorite way to spend time with you is by doing small, domestic things. Weekly laundry and binge watching some stupid show together while you fold and talk (talk as in you tease him the whole time and he snaps at you while flustered to no end.) ~ As much of a walnut as he can be I feel like with a partner once he becomes truly comfortable and opens up, I think Sakura would make a wonderful and dedicated boyfriend. He may be harsh around the edges but he is constantly showing you his love and loyalty and once that confidence is there for him the two of you can have something truly special.

[gasolinehornet]

How does one talk to their mutuals?? I'm so antisocial I don't even know how to talk to someone random on the internet 💀💀

[spocks-kaathyra]

.

[shadowedvales-a]

LETS TALK ABOUT BECKY IVES FOR A MINUTE:

when you think about becky, you have to remember that she spent at least six years listening to terry’s “crazy theories” about hawkins lab, and the big bad man taking jane away. she knew terry took part in “hippie crap” and assumed that messed with her head. that those experiences combined with miscarrying in the third trimester had a terrible stain on her mental health, ultimately losing her connection to reality. she spent those years watching terry fight and lose legal battles against brenner and hawkins. she pleaded for her to stop, to get help, as their relationship grew stressed and strained because becky didn’t believe her, and terry hated her for it.

and then when terry’s mind was completely broken, she spent her days and nights caring for her. honestly the show never touched on this. just what did becky think happened to terry? what story was she told? was terry put into a random hospital with doctors from hawkins lab, under a guise of caring for her, just to tell becky there was some kind of accident? maybe a car accident. did they claim the drugs used in the mk ultra testing from all those years ago took affect on her mind? probably not, because then becky would be in an opportunity to sue. i highly doubt there would have been any mention of the lab, over just some random, "unfortunate accident." it really bugs me that there’s no story about what becky believed made terry catatonic. terry knew becky didn’t believe her, and as such, definitely did not tell her about her plans to break into the lab. so a story could have easily been concocted.

and then, one random day, a kid shows up at her doorstep, claiming to be the daughter she didn’t believe existed. immediately, by jane opening the door with her mind, becky held some kind of belief for she'd heard terry’s rants about her baby being used for experiments, experiments which gave her powers. so in comes jane, demanding to see her mother, able to open a locked door, blood dripping from her nose. all too soon she realises that there has so be some semblance of truth. the girl says her name is jane: she fits all the descriptions. the descriptions of the niece she never had. this child who her sister fought tooth and nail to get back. i can’t even imagine the guilt that would begin to fester for not believing terry, for thinking she was having a mental break, for trying to get her to see therapists and get her some real, serious help.

scared and confused for herself and her sister, and unable to fathom what is happening, what does she do? she comforts jane. there is distance, there’s awkwardness, but this girl is her blood and every moment that passed only proved that she could actually be jane ives. she makes her a sandwich, tries to comfort her, tell her that her mother is in a dream. probably a good dream. she comforts and tells her that terry never stopped believing.

she always believed you were out there. she always believed you’d come home one day.

home?

yeah, home.

she offered her, this strange little girl, a place in her home with her and her mother. she didn’t push, she didn’t need to know everything in that moment; she focused on jane and nothing else. the girl was obviously traumatised judging by the way she spoke, the way she sheltered herself. if everything terry claimed was indeed true, then becky couldn’t even begin to think about what she’d gone through.

i wanna help you, but to really do that, i need you to talk to me, okay? it doesn’t have to be now. it doesn’t have to be today. when you’re ready, okay?

she never moved a single thing in jane’s room. although she didn’t believe terry, she respected and loved her enough to keep it exactly as she’d planned. and at least she could give jane that, the vision her mother had for her, what the first steps of their wonderful life would have been like. becky claimed terry was “stuck” living the “same dream” over and over. where becky, too, was the one who was stuck. terry became 24/7 care, and unless she had helpers (which i highly doubt), becky would have given up her job, her out of home hobbies, her entire life to care for her sister. stuck in an endless routine until jane came along and struck her with the reality of it all.

as soon as jane contacts the void, you can see becky looks on edge and nervous. which, fair enough! she asks if she can sit and watch, but doesn’t interfere or distract jane. she even sits a little further away from her, perhaps out of fear (which would be completely justified. this girl physically moved things with her mind, who knows what else she can do) or just trying to take this all in within her own time and space. but the moment, the second jane departs the void and is in a state of distress, she moves to comfort her. she isn’t sure how, and doesn’t expect it to be returned, but offers it nonetheless. as far as she knows jane just spoke to her sister; she would be dying to know what happened, if she said anything. but remains silent and focuses on the child.

unfortunately we really don’t see much else of their dynamic on screen, but it is very justified that becky contacted hawkins and tried to get a hold of hopper. he and joyce were the only ones who seemed to have some kind of understanding; of course she would want to contact them. she put on a brave face in front of jane, focused on her and her needs. but as soon as she put the bed down and jane wanted some time alone in her room, becky had a moment to breathe. to think about her, her sister, all those wasted years because she didn’t believe. so, weeks later, when she gets a phone call from a weak sounding girl, saying she was sorry, the relief is immense. when recovered from her illness after closing the gate, the first thing jane wanted to do was call her aunt. hopper got on the line after the initial apology and asked if becky would come to hawkins, so they could work things out from there.

i just think becky is such a neat, complex character for the literal twenty minutes (probably less) screen time she gets. i adore the way she treats jane, and think she is such a good influence in her life. imagine all the stories becky could tell her about terry. things no one else could. her relationship with her aunt is one like no other, for both the sake of her mother, and that she is the only true family she has ever known, or as far as she knows, even has. becky never expects anything from jane (unlike a lot of the people in her life), and in that respect, jane does actually open up to her overtime. to becky, jane isn’t a girl who’s saved the world a few times. she’s the niece she didn’t believe in, and would spend the rest of her life making it up to her and terry.

[aro-aizawa]

i have a tradition where when i finish a game i sit and watch the credits but especially when i finish it for the first time and boy i hope i never stop doing it

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.