#i wanted to go for more subtle colors for the prompt today

[knight-gwaine]

Our destiny was always so much larger than we ever were You were worth everything (x) (insp.)

— for @merthurweek2023 day two: any poem + orange

[leclerc-hs]

can't get you outta my head - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (friends to lovers!) summary: in which you and charles are in the same friend group and find solace in one another OR you and charles fuck and can’t forget about it warnings: smut under the cut! oral (f-receiving!), outdoor sex, p in v, angst, pining, badly translated french (pls correct me), NOT PROOFREAD word count: 5.4k! (lengthy) author’s note: IN HONOR OF HITTING 1,600 FOLLOWERS I AM POSTING THIS TODAY!!!! double-postings today!!! i wrote this SOOO fast so sorry if there’s any mistakes. loved writing it tho and i know i was going to make it more enemies originally but making him softer and cutesy just felt right for now. i can always do another one if you guys want!! just let me know what you think! love hearing from you guys!!! xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

BENEATH THE BRILLIANT canopy of the sun’s golden embrace, you recline comfortably upon the plush cushions of the lounge chairs, creating a sanctuary of comfort amidst the vast expanse of sand. Around you, a kaleidoscope of colors and textures unfold: vibrant beach towels strewn around carelessly, the glistening ocean stretching endlessly before you, and the verdant palm trees swaying in rhythmic cadence against the bright blue sky.

The sound of the ocean’s embrace upon the sandy shoreline murmurs in the background, a subtle undercurrent beneath the symphony of voices of your friends that fills the air. Your gaze drifts towards a cluster of your friends cavorting in the embrace of the water. Their figures, silhouetted against the shimmering expanse of the ocean, exude a carefree vitality. Like playful spirits unleashed, they tumble and wrestle amidst the crash of the waves, their laughter echoing.

You smile softly listening to a few of the girl’s banter over last night’s drunken escapades, flipping a page of the cheap magazine you purchased earlier.

“Joris a pratiquement mange de la merde hier soir.” Joris practically ate shit last night. Your best friend, also Joris’s girlfriend, to the left of you says in between laughter, as you all careen over with a laugh. 

“Au moins, il va bien.” At least he’s fine. You say with a soft smile, turning another page of your magazine. “Can we talk about Antoine shooting a firecracker out of his ass?” The words spark an immediate eruption of laughter, tears threaten to fall from your eyes from the sheer hilarity of the memory.

“Qu’est-ce qui est si drôle?” What’s so funny?

You turn your head and find yourself locking eyes with a pair of captivating green. In that moment, your heart skips a small beat, and a soft smile graces your lips as you gaze warmly at him. “Making fun of Joris and Antoine, bien sûr.” Of course.

A smile plays at the corner of his pink lips, and you can’t help but envy their perfect hue. You can’t help but notice the subtle dimples that grace Charles’ cheeks as he smiles. Did he always have those? With a casual grace, he raises a hand to scratch the side of his stubble before reaching for a towel casually draped over your lounge chair. As he leans over, droplets of water cascade onto your warm skin, a gentle reminder of the ocean’s embrace. You steal a moment to admire the bronzed glow of his skin, the sunlight dancing upon the small beads of water that cling to his sculpted muscles with a tantalizing allure.

A peculiar aura envelops the relationship between you and Charles. You didn’t speak often, although you were in the same friend group, and have known each other for forever. However, in the recent weeks, a shift has occurred. Perhaps it’s the shared experience of a newfound singleness has drawn you closer together, prompting conversations to flow more freely than ever before.

A delicate blush creeps onto your cheeks, a fleeting flush of warmth that you hope goes unnoticed against the backdrop of your sun-kissed skin. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you as Charles’s fingers brush lightly against your shoulders while the grabs the towel, igniting a subtle spark between you two.

“Allons-nous au club ce soir?” Are we going to the club tonight? One of your guy friends asks, sinking onto a sandy towel with a groan as he collapses onto the soft grains. 

For a moment, maybe a few seconds, silence hangs in the air. As if each person is lost in contemplation, weighing the prospect of the evening’s plans. Then, in a synchronous chorus, a resounding chorus of “yes” erupts from the group, breaking the silence with unanimous enthusiasm.

You remain silent, immersed in the pages of a trash magazine, each turn revealing scandalous tales that undoubtedly blur the lines between fact and fiction. Charles watches you intently from his position in the beach chair across from you, though not directly opposite. Positioned slightly to the right, his gaze lingers on you with a subtle curiosity, his expression betraying a hint of contemplation as he observes you amidst the circle of friends. Always in your own world.

“Lovie, tu participes?” Are you in? Your best friend beside you seems to notice your lack of response. Her arms stretch across the gap between your chairs, and she gently squeezes your wrist, a silent gesture of reassurance and solidarity. 

Lovie. You don’t exactly know why you got that nickname, but it stuck. And it carried over to most of the friend group calling you that since childhood.

You lifted your head up, the sun beading down on you causing your eyes to slightly crinkle, as you gave her a look that said duh!

Your friends smile widens as she claps her hands together, her excitement palpable as she sits up from her previously relaxed position. Her enthusiasm is infectious, casting a warm glow over the group as they all eagerly cheer in happiness with her. “Mon dieu!” Thank God! It was a squeal of relief. “Maybe you’ll meet a sexy man and fall in love and have his babies so you can forget all about that loser.”

Your heart clenches at the mere mention of your ex. The smile on your lip’s falters just slightly, but you quickly regain composure, determined not to show a hint of sadness surface while on vacation with your friends. With a subtle effort, you smooth away the brief flicker of vulnerability, masking it beneath a façade of cheerful resilience. 

You roll your eyes, “Nous verrons.” We’ll see. Your tone carries a hint of mystery as you look back into your magazine, letting the conversation of your friends flow into a different direction.

-

“Es-tu sûre que tu devrais en prendre unautre?” Are you sure you should have another? Joris says into your ear, making sure you’re able to hear him over the pulse of the music, his arm slung over the back of the booth behind you. You lean into his body, a drunken smile pulled on your lips.

He harbored a slight concern for you. While you were his girlfriend’s best friend, your friendship dated back to childhood, long before his relationship with her, and he held you in high regard. His care for you ran deep, and ever since your break-up, he knows that you haven’t been the same.

“Arrête de t’inquiéter pour moi.” Stop worrying about me. You shove his shoulder gently, before pointing to your best friend on the dance floor. “Inquiéte-toi pour elle.” Worry about her.

You let out a soft laugh as you witness Joris’s eyes widen in surprise at the sight of his girlfriend standing on the stage. With a knowing smile, you begin to slide out of the booth with intent to make your way to the bar, sensing the need for a fresh drink to accompany the unfolding spectacle.

Before you can even slide out of the booth, a fresh drink—scratch that, a refill of your drink, is placed in front of you. Your gaze follows the masculine hand holding the glass, adorned with an expensive watch at the wrist, tracing its path up the arm until your gaze meets Charles’ intense stare. His eyes, dark and captivating, lock onto yours, already filled with questions and a silent understanding.

You slide back over, silently signaling him to sit beside you. As he eases into the spot beside you, the proximity of his body sends a shiver down your spin, the heat radiating from him igniting a primal longing within you. Your bare skin tingles with anticipation as his presence fills the air with an electric charge, a silent dance of desire playing out between you in the dimly lit confines of the booth.

In the midst of the pulsating club music, words between you two remained scarce. Yet, you both found solace in the quiet companionship that enveloped you both. The energy of the club swirled around you, but the warmth of each other’s presence, you felt a profound sense of ease settle, much like a comforting blanket.

-

It wasn’t unnoticeable to the rest of the friend group. In fact, it was very noticeable. The way you and Charles seemed to find a connection with one another, especially post break-ups. 

It’s not that you were never friends, you just were never as close. So it came as a slight surprise to a few of your friends as they picked up the little changes that were made.

Like when Charles refills your drinks for you. Or when he notices that there is coconut in your meal, which you’re very allergic to, and sends it back to the kitchen. 

Like when you remind him to put on sunscreen, knowing he tends to burn easily. Or when you find yourselves sitting out by the fire at night, long after everyone went to sleep, just talking about the most random things.

“The CGI in that movie was terrible!”

“It’s a classic! You can’t hate a classic!”

“That doesn’t make the CGI better!”

Or

“I’ll have you know I’m a culinary expert.”

“Charles, I’ve known you for forever. Don’t lie!”

“I’m an innovator! Who else could turn pasta into charcoal with such ease?”

No matter the topic at hand, you and Charles always found yourselves engulfed in laughter, the gentle sound filling the air with warmth and camaraderie.

-

You didn’t want sadness to cloud your vacation, but sometimes emotions have a way of washing over you like relentless waves. One of the evenings, while your friends made plans to dine out, you made the wise choice to stay in. Although you didn’t want to miss out, you felt that you were not in the right mindset to be out with everyone. Some protested your decision, expressing concern, but you assured them that you would be fine on your own and ready to party it up all day tomorrow.

Charles shot you a funny look as he slid his hands into one of his pockets, leaning casually against the kitchen archway. His white linen shirt, barely buttoned and snug against his muscles, accentuated his tan, making it seem even more vibrant against the stark contrast of the fabric. A single glance from him stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you as you perched on the bar-stool chair, clad in nothing but a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a well-worn t-shirt. It was your ex-boyfriend’s shirt, a garment you should have long discarded, but its comfort proved too irresistible to part with. Despite the pang of guilt that tugged at your conscience, you found solace in its familiar embrace, a reminder of the past you couldn’t quite let go of yet.

The villa you currently stayed in was beautiful. Its whitewashed walls and wrought-iron accents blended modern and luxury all in one. Inside, the warm glow of the setting sunbathed the spacious rooms, casting an ethereal orange hue over the abundance of white and wood-colored furniture. As the click of the front door echoed through the villa, the chatter of your friends faded into near silence as they departed for dinner, leaving you alone in complete silence.

-

You find yourself eventually nestled in the corner of the oversized couch, cocooned in the warmth of a fluffy blanket draped over your body. With the television remote in hand, you flip through the channels, searching for something to capture your interest. Nothing quite grabs your attention, until you stumble upon a cheesy rom-com you’ve seen hundreds of times.

Lost in a trance, you’re oblivious to the world around you, the gentle breeze whispering through the open windows. The creak of the front door opening barely registers, and it’s only when Charles’ silhouette materializes in the archway beside the TV that you snap back to reality. A soft smile tugs at the corners of Charles’ lips as he gazes upon you, nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. His heart skips a beat at the sight of you, at the sight of your eyes looking at him with such softness.

“Que fais-tu de retour?” What are you doing back?

He shrugs nonchalantly, pushing off from the wall’s archway and making his way toward you. With an easy grace, he plops down beside you, propping one leg up on another couch cushion and allowing his shoulder and head to half-lean against you.

You both settle in a comfortable silence, the sound of the movie filling the air around you with a comforting ambiance.

“Penses-tu jamais que tu le surpasseras?” Do you ever think you’ll get over him?

The words send your stomach into a frenzy of somersaults, and a tightness forms in your throat, making it difficult to swallow.

You don’t answer immediately, instead you stare ahead at the television, your fingers fumbling with the fabric of the blanket nervously.

“Je l’espère.” I hope so.

His eyes are solemn as you look at him. “Parfois,” Sometimes. He begins, straightening his posture so he can fully look at you. “I think I’ll never get over her.”

His words hang heavily in the air, and though they sting a bit, you understand. You share the same sentiment.

“Mais toi,” But you. His hand reaches to yours, the one fumbling with your thigh. His eyes dart between both of yours, like he’s struggling to formulate his next words. “You just,” He starts before squeezing your hand in his. “You just make my days feel easier.”

You nod slowly, knowing exactly what he’s trying to say. “My pain, my heartache, just disappears whenever I’m with you.” Your voice is soft as you speak the words. The truth of them daunting.

“Sometimes I just wish I could turn my emotions off.” You say, unwrapping the blanket from your body, so that it only sits underneath you now. “Like I could just fuck someone and move on.”

Charles’ eyes widen slightly as the word ‘fuck’ slips past your lips. He nearly lets out an audible groan, his eyes tracing the contours of your collarbones peeking out from the oversized shirt that slips tantalizingly of your shoulder.

He licks his lips, swallowing a pronounced gulp, as his eyes trail back to your face.

“Yeah.” 

You could feel the tension in the air, like the both of you were considering fucking each other here and now. Charles couldn’t escape the thoughts of spreading you out on the cushions right here, spreading your legs and fucking you with his tongue.

As he locks eyes with you, you feel a flutter in your stomach, your thighs clenching involuntarily as his gaze lingers on your lips. You part your lips to speak, but before you can utter another word, a loud burst of commotion erupts through the front door. No doubt your drunken friends, clamoring for the fire pit.

-

You and Charles find yourselves in an awkward dance since then. Not too awkward, but the idea of you fucking each other escaped neither of your minds.

It was honestly twisted. The fact that Charles couldn’t stop picturing what you would look like beneath him, what your moans would sound like in his ear. He had fucked his fist twice to the though of you since he even heard the word ‘fuck’ slip past your lips on the couch the other night. It was honestly pathetic.

You couldn’t handle it either it seems. You found your eyes lingering on Charles way longer than necessary. The flex of his muscles as he enjoys a morning workout by the villa’s pool, the small smiles he gives you from across the room, and the small touches he gives as he walks by you has you driving yourself up a fucking wall.

So, when your friends decide to head out for a spa day, you and Charles hang back sitting across from one another a tad too far apart on the outdoor couch for it to be normal. It was as if you needed the space to stop from jumping each other’s bones.

The skimpy red bikini you wore did little to ease Charles’ thoughts. But he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the first time in weeks he isn’t thinking about his ex-girlfriend. No, he’s too engrossed in the idea of fucking you. Hearing your sweet little moans he just knows you would have. Feeling your smooth skin beneath the pads of his fingertips.

Charles could feel himself harden just by glancing at you lounging comfortably on the outdoor couch, the clouds covering the sun engulfing you guys in a moment of shade.

Across the couch from him, you tried to do everything but acknowledge Charles’ longing stare. But you couldn’t. Your body was all tense, in need of a release. 

“Charles, will you—”

Before you could even finish the sentence, Charles was standing over your figure on the couch. His hardened cock visibly noticeable in his short swimsuit. The muscles of his thighs flexed before you, as he visibly gulped at the vision of your breasts spilling out of the top.

“Assieds-toi droit.” Sit up. He murmurs softly, his voice carrying a gentle command as he shifts, prompting you to straighten your posture.

Was this really about to happen? You really hoped so.

It was as if Charles can see the desire in your eyes, answering the question of if you wanted this in his head almost instantly.

“Est-ce que je peux t’embrasser?” Can I kiss you? His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, tracing it as he licked his own.

You nodded your head before his lips pressed down onto yours, capturing them in a sweet embrace. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping it firmly near your scalp as he deepened the kiss, igniting a surge of warmth and longing between you.

A soft moan escapes your lips as he slips his tongue into your mouth, pressing it hotly against yours. He pulls away for a moment, still standing above your sitting figure, as he takes in your blown out pupils.

“Ça a un gout si doux.” Tastes so sweet. His hand remains in your hair, holding your head in place to look at him. His eyes stare at your sightly swollen lips, a clench of need forming in the pit of his stomach.

He falls to his knees before you on the couch, kneeling between your two legs, as his other hand presses against your chest, forcing you to lean back against the cushions of the couch. The sun peeped through the clouds momentarily, allowing you to drink in the sight of just how light his eyes were.

His thumb grazes your bikini cladded core, rubbing light circles in a teasing manner. The pressure of his thumb wasn’t enough, but it was everything you needed.

He looked at you from between your legs, a smirk on his face like he knew just how crazy he was driving you. It was an image you never wanted to forget. 

“Touch me.” You begged, a breathy moan leaving your lips as his thumb pressed harder onto your swollen clit. 

It was all he needed to hear before sliding your bikini bottoms to the side and shoving his tongue to where you needed him most. The cool air of the outdoors was a stark contrast to the heat you felt between your legs. 

He took his time with you, like he wanted to savor every sweet moan you gave him. His tongue flicked around your clit a few times, before wrapping his lips around it. Your hand slid into his brown locks, slightly lightened form the sun over vacation, and pulled as you rutted your hips against his face.

“Mm, that’s it,” He groaned into your cunt, his words vibrating against you, sending your hips into a faster frenzy. He slipped two fingers into you, lifting his head to watch as you lulled your head back against the cushion and took your hands from his head to your breasts. You stretched the bikini top slightly, until your breasts spilled over the tiny triangles, your nipples already hardened from the need that burned within you.

Charles slipped one hand up to your breasts, taking one of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger and pinching.

“M’god,” You half-shouted, biting your lip to prevent yourself for being too loud.

“Don’t deprive me from your sweet little moans, yeah?” He pulled his lips off your clit for a few seconds, giving you ample time to look at them glistening in you. You nearly came at the sight of it. 

He dropped his head back between your legs, flicking fast kitten licks to your clit, which had you careening forward with a cry of pleasure.

He sucked hard on your clit, eliciting loud mewls from you that were like a sweet melody to his ears. Charles could feel his cock straining against the tightness of his swim suit, he flexed his hips into the couch before him, in need of some sort of relief. 

He could feel you teetering on the edge of your orgasm, shoving his face deeper into you, his tongue slipping in and out of you at a fervent pace. It hit you hard. Your hips had a mind of their own, as they rode his face, the bony structure of his nose pressing against your clit sending you into a frenzy.

Charles replaced his tongue with his fingers and watched as you came down from your high. His fingers still working you over as he coaxed you through your orgasm, not letting up.

“I knew you would taste like heaven,” He smirks, finally removing his fingers, before slipping them into his mouth, and moaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

You groaned, your pupils blown out as you looked at him, your legs still spread and cunt fully exposed to him and the outside air. 

“Need more,” You practically begged.

“Need my cock, hm?” You nodded, wasted no time in answering. He pushed himself up from his knees, sitting beside you on the couch as he pushed his swimsuit down enough to free his cock. It was hot and heavy in your hands as you reached for it, precum already dripping from its tip.

You straddled his waist, raising up just enough for him to slip his cock into your already saturated core. Your hands grip the back of the couch behind Charles’ head, your fingers clenching it tightly as you take in each inch of him. His hands grip your waist, large fingers sprayed across as he guides your movements over his cock.

The squeeze of your cunt on his cock was better than Charles could ever imagine. The fact that he had to use his fist before you was honestly a punishment compared to this.

“Mon dieu,” My God. You groan as his cock stretches your walls. You waste no time in working yourself over his cock, the pleasure of it too good for you to do it slow. You chased that second orgasm as it teetered on the edge. You were already so close.

“That close already?” His smirk was permanent on his face as he flexed his hips up into you, hitting you deeper than before.

You nodded, soft mewls escaping your lips constantly. It was as if you couldn’t shut up now. His hands grip your hair tightly, pulling your head back to look up at the sky, as he pulls one of your hardened nipples in between his teeth.

You didn’t have time to tell him you were coming again, but the clench of your walls on his cock was enough of a warning for him. Your walls fluttered around him repeatedly, as his name fell softly from your lips followed with a string of curses.

As if he couldn’t hold back his orgasm any longer, he lifted you up off him and placed you to the side, his hot cum spilling over his cock and stomach in stringy spurts. Your body was limp against the cushion, your bathing suit covering nothing.

Still hazy from your climax, you look from the blue cloudy sky to Charles beside you. His eyes were glossy as he smiled, like he was fully content.

“Merci,” Thank you. You said softly, an acknowledgment for him giving you what you mentioned the other night.

He nodded once, giving a small smile as if to say thank you back.

-

It’s been weeks since you and Charles fucked on the outdoor couch of the vacation villa. You haven’t seen each other much since, not that you expected it. You were thankful it helped you forget about your ex-boyfriend just a little bit more. Like you could bare the idea of meeting other men. Which you were.

You claimed that Charles was a one-time thing. Although it was probably the best sex you’ve ever had, you knew you couldn’t do it again. It was a mutual one-time thing.

So, when you found yourself pressed against the bathroom door of the five-star restaurant, your short little sundress bunched up at your waist, and Charles’ cock buried deep in your cunt, it was a little unexpected. Not completely.

It was hard and quick, nothing but a string of breathy moans between you two as he pressed your chest forward into the door. You both came quickly, your chest flushed red and his cheeks slightly pink as if he just performed a hard workout. 

“Who’s your date?” He asks, the words slip out fast, like he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care.

You furrow your eyebrow for a second, before looking at yourself in the mirror, Charles standing tall behind your figure. “Just met him last night,” You flattened your hair as much as you could to make it seem normal. “I’m trying to get back out there.”

Charles smiles at you, although it seems slightly pained. “Good. Your ex-boyfriend didn’t deserve you.” His words were kind, and it made you smile that he even bothered to say it. 

“I should get back,” You begin, turning to face him. His eyes look at your lips one last time, like he’s contemplating kissing you again. “I’ll see you next week at Joris’s, right?”

He gave you a small nod.

-

Charles Leclerc is a liar.

Well, a liar when it comes to him saying he doesn’t think about you sexually. The way you feel around his cock. The way your breathy moans turn him on to no end. The way your breasts bounced with each thrust of his cock. The taste of your cunt on his lips. 

He’s a liar if he says he doesn’t fuck his fist almost every night to the thought of you.

But he was also a liar when it comes to him saying he doesn’t think about you not sexually. The way you loved to read trashy magazines, the way you always fidgeted with the rings on your fingers when you were nervous, the way your eyes glowed whenever you laughed. 

So, when Joris mentions you and a new potential boyfriend, he can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the idea. The clench of Charles’ jaw at the sight of you and this ‘potential boyfriend’ across the yard at baby shower, does not slip past Joris’s eyesight.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two?

Charles clutches the neck of the beer bottle in his fingers, bringing it to his lips, before straying his eyes from you to Joris beside him.

Charles’ eyes gleamed like he didn’t know how to answer this without admitting feelings he hasn’t even admitted to himself. He shook his head. No. Because there wasn’t.

“Vous étiez proches en vacances.” You guys were close on vacation.

It was just a statement, as if he wanted to see Charles’ reaction. Charles didn’t know if Joris was trying to insinuate anything, but Charles didn’t respond. Not as Joris’s girlfriend, your best friend, popped up behind you both, a tray of cupcakes in her hand.

You sat across the yard, deep in conversation with Theo, at one of the many heavily decorated picnic tables. The short purple sundress that adorned your body is a vision of effortless elegance. Delicate straps grace the shoulders, framing your breasts with a feminine charm. The skirt flows gently with every movement, swaying gracefully in the warm breeze.

You both knew it wasn’t anything serious, at least yet, but he had a way of making you smile, nonetheless. Despite only knowing each other for a few weeks and sharing a handful of dates, he made a point to take his time with you. He was considerate, never pressuring you into anything, especially after you had confided in him about your previous messy relationship one night.

“Tu es belle.” You’re beautiful. Theo whispered into your ear, his fingers toying with the fabric at the ends of your dress, resting right above your knees.

You blushed, your cheeks flaring a light shade of red, as you smiled into your lap. You lifted your head slightly, looking across the yard, where your eyes met with Charles. His eyes already watching you with such heat in his eyes it made your stomach do a somersault.

He felt an intense surge of resentment towards the guy who dared to lay his hands on you, his anger boiling as he watched him lean into whisper into your ear. Your cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of crimson under his gaze, betraying the effect of his words.  What could he possibly be saying to you?

It was just his cock you were coming around last week. So, why is this fiery sense of jealousy threatening to consume him entirely?

It didn’t make sense. How could he feel such intense jealousy over someone he never even had a real relationship with? He never even felt this jealous over his ex-girlfriend.

It was just sex.

He told himself repeatedly. It was just sex. But it only made the burn in his chest only grow more.

-

You were a liar if you said that Charles Leclerc is never on your mind. You were a liar if you said that it was just sex.

Because, for some inexplicable reason, you can’t seem to get Charles Leclerc out of your mind. You remember how he made sure none of your dishes contained coconut, how he bought you those trashy magazines he knew you loved so much, and how he always made sure that you were smiling.

So, when Charles Leclerc stood silhouetted in the doorway of your front door, the moonlight casting a soft glow around him in the middle of the night, you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat.

You took note of his hair in disarray, as if he had run his hands through it a dozen times, and the soft grey sweats that hung loosely on his hips. The taut muscles of his arms peeked out against the seams of the black t-shirt he wore. 

“Je n’arrête pas de penser à toi.” I can’t stop thinking about you. He utters the words with a look of anguish etched on his face, each step carefully navigating around your figure as he stands in the foyer of your apartment, a space he’s been in countless times over the years. But never alone. Never without friends.

You close the door and turn to look at him, not realizing just how close he was to you. “It’s like you,” he begins but freezes, taking a step closer toward you. You take a step back, the tight tank top you wore did little to hide your hardened nipples from the cold air, and your back hit the front door. “It’s like you possess every thought I have. Every single thought. You. You. You.”

You sucked in a breath as you looked into his eyes, more darkened than normal, almost as if he was angry at you.

“Qu’est-ce que tu m’as fait?” What did you do to me? His fingers trail up your arm to your collarbones, a trail of goosebumps following in their wake.

You gulp audibly, your lips slightly parted from the feel of his fingertips on your skin for the first time in weeks. You struggle to find the words until Charles is pleading.

He laughs slightly sarcastic, like he can’t believe this is happening to him. “I even bought those trashy magazines that you like so much, a whole stack of them at my place, because I cannot get you out of my fucking head.”

“Dit moi, it’s not just me.” Tell me.

You would be a liar if you said it’s just him. Your hands trail up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing them in comfort as you stare into his eyes. His breaths getting heavier as your fingers trail his t-shirt classes skin, like he was yearning for it so much, like it burned him.

“It’s not just you.”

He doesn’t give you time to say much more, not until his lips are crashing down onto yours again. Like he couldn’t last one more second without your lips pressed to his.

[ml-nolan]

Coffee in bed with Dreamling

You got it! T-rating for this one.

--

When his eyes open, Hob is greeted by high ceilings swirling with kaleidoscopic clouds. It takes no time at all for him to remember where he is. Dream has done a lot to make him feel comfortable and safe in The Dreaming.

"Hello, Hob."

That includes making sure to be at his side every time he wakes in this behemoth of a bed. Sometimes Dream takes the time to lie down beside him, with or without clothes, depending on whether he feels like seduction is necessary. It usually isn't with Hob—he's pretty much game at any time. 

Today though, Dream is perched on the side of the bed, close enough to run his fingers through Hob's hair. It's nice that there's sort of a middle ground for physical affection these days. In the beginning it was a bit hot-and-cold, with Dream either demanding to be ravished or fully disappearing for days on end. But the joy of having been friends first is that, eventually, they both missed sharing the simpler, less heated moments. 

"Is there anything you require this morning, Hob Gadling?"

"Hmmm…" This isn't a question he ever waves off. He's never understood why people play coy little games to be polite. He knows that here in The Dreaming, he can pretty much have whatever he wants. Why not take advantage of that? "Don't suppose you could get us a cup of coffee."

Dream snorts of the very idea that there would be something he couldn't provide. It's subtle, but very cute. Not that Hob would dare tell him that (well, not right now, anyway).

"How would you prefer it?"

"Just a regular cup of joe, a little cream, no sugar." 

Hob can't say it's not delightful to be waited on by a king. To be indulged, more like. With the hint of a smile, Dream goes very still, and then there is a cup in his hand. It's gorgeous in an artisanal sort of way, with starbursts of gold leaf where cracks used to be. He hands it to Hob, its temperature cool enough to hold in his hands.

"Where'd you get this one?" Hob says, pushing himself up to sit against the cool wooden headboard. The coffee is perfect—roasted but not burnt, creamy but not too thick.

"From the dream of a cafe owner who lives in a seaside village," Dream says.

"Uh oh. So does that mean I've stolen some poor sod's coffee?"

Dream turns his head ever so slightly, which he always does when Hob says something that he thinks is silly.

"This dreamer is much like you," Dream says, voice colored with affection. "He is resourceful enough to make the best of the unexpected."

Hob sets his cup on the stone window ledge beside the bed. "Uh oh. I'm not going to lose you to him, am I?"

Anyone would clock the smile on Dream's face now. He shakes his head. "You are still singular to me, Hob Gadling. I would have no one else. Besides," his expression drifts slightly, "his existing partner figures heavily in his dreams. I would be loath to interfere."

With a thoughtful sound, Hob scoots closer to Dream, straining up to kiss him. Obligingly, Dream leans into it to meet him halfway, letting his soft, cool lips linger on Hob's. There's a flutter in Hob's stomach, the same way there always is when he wakes up under Dream's attentive gaze.

They break from the kiss. "How long will that coffee stay warm?" Hob jerks his head toward where he'd left the gilded cup on the windowsill.

Dream's eyes flash, darkening from sea green into that clear black sky. He sets a hand on Hob's chest and eases him onto his back.

"As long as is necessary."

--

This piece was brought to you by these Soft Prompts. I've got a lot of great ones in the queue, but please feel free to send an ask for Sandman, The Magnus Archives, or Malevolent ships (or any of my OCs)!

[kybercrystals94]

Teal Paint

Read here on Ao3!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 18 | Prompt 18: Left Behind

Rated: G | Word Count: 1526 | Summary: Memories left behind... | Character Focus: Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Omega, Echo

*some slight spoilers at the very end for Season 3*

Tech finds a reasonably tame city to spend their brief period of downtime between missions. It took several months, but they’ve finally scraped enough credits together, and today is the day. The streets are crowded with evening traffic, the Batch walking close together to avoid being separated.

“Did you know,” Tech says, informatively, “that facial tattoos are among the most painful, depending on the location on the face?” 

“Thanks, Tech,” Hunter grumbles, “that’s really helpful.” 

“You’re not going to talk us out of it,” Crosshair adds resolutely.

Wrecker nods. “Yeah, we’re gonna do it no matter what you say, Tech!” 

Tech huffs. “On the contrary, I’m quite eager to observe the process. I just believe that being well informed is beneficial when making a life altering decision.” 

“Maker, Tech, getting a tattoo isn’t life altering,” Crosshair says. 

“It’s awesome!” Wrecker declares. “You should get one too, Tech.” 

“I prefer modifications that can be modified,” Tech retorts.

Crosshair leans close to Wrecker, puts his hand up to shield his mouth from Tech, and loudly whispers, “He’s too scared.” 

“That is not true.” 

“Aww, Techie’s scared,” Wrecker crows, throwing an arm around Tech. “I can hold your hand, be brave for the both of us.” 

Tech tries to extract himself from Wrecker’s grip. “I am not scared! I have stated my reasoning clearly and concisely. Fear has nothing to do with it.” 

Hunter rubs his hand across the left side of his face, a fist of apprehension balling up in the pit of his stomach. He isn’t having second thoughts, he’s almost positive that he’ll be happy with the results. He and Crosshair spent hours with a pad of flimsi sketching and scheming. Crosshair wanted something subtle, meaningful, a reflection of himself. Hunter, to his brothers’ surprise, wanted something bold. A statement. Memorable. Of the Batch, he most resembles, in appearance and speech, a reg. But he is no more a reg than any other member of his squad. He might not be able to easily change his facial structure or vocal pattern; however, inking half his face with the dark contour of a skull seems like a good start. 

“What do you think?” Crosshair asked, holding up the sketch he’d made of Hunter. 

Hunter grinned, taking the pad and admiring the simple lined likeness to himself, the skull motif shadowed deeply with graphite. He loved it. It was perfect. Exactly as he’d imagined it. “Looks good,” he told his brother.

Wrecker, at the last minute, decided that he also wants a tattoo, although his ideas are scattered and untethered to any sort of theme. Even as they approach the tattoo parlor, he is still undecided, claiming that it is going to be a surprise. 

“A tattoo is permanent,” Tech tells Wrecker again, having resigned himself to being tucked under Wrecker’s arm for the remainder of their trek. “You should at least have some sort of idea.” 

“I do,” Wrecker says, “My idea is that it will be the coolest tattoo in the entire galaxy.” 

“That is not an idea,” Tech sighs. 

At Tech’s direction, they turn off on a side street, the crowds petering off the further they walk. It doesn’t exactly feel like a bad part of town; however, it is less kept, the buildings showing their age and wear. Hunter is beginning to wonder if Tech got them lost when they turn another corner and a neon sign blinks the word “TATTOOS” at them, the flashing light practically searing into Hunter’s retinas. 

“They should get a brighter sign,” Crosshair snarks, “we almost missed it.” 

They step inside, and find the business deserted except for a human who stands up from a chair behind the counter. He is covered in colorful ink, his natural pigment completely lost under the tapestry of mismatched designs across every inch of his exposed skin. 

“Now that must’ve hurt,” Wrecker mutters to Tech, but he might as well have screamed it from the rooftops. 

Tech rolls his eyes. 

The man smiles, flashing white teeth. “Only hurts ‘til the pain goes away.”

“Naturally,” Tech agrees sardonically.

“I’m gonna guess you lot are here for some ink,” the man says. 

“They are, I am not,” Tech replies quickly. “I am here to observe.” 

“Not a fan of needles, huh?” the man asks. 

Tech opens his mouth to deny the accusation, but Wrecker gasps out, “Wait, needles?” 

Crosshair groans. “We went over this, Wrecker.”

“Yeah, well” Wrecker says, “it sounds different the way he says it.” 

“How?” 

Wrecker heaves his broad shoulders in a shrug. “I’ll just wait on my tattoo. Until I think of something good, ya know?”

Crosshair steps around Wrecker and jerks his head in Hunter’s direction. “He and I are getting tattoos. These are what we want.” He pulls two pieces of flimsi from his pocket with their chosen designs, pushing them across the counter. 

The man takes them, looking over the details. “Straightforward and to the point. I like that. C’mon around and we’ll get started.”

Hunter takes a deep breath. 

He’s not turning back now. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter and Crosshair decide to add to their armor to coordinate with their new tattoos. The next time they’re on Kamino, they find their leftover paint and set to work, Tech and Wrecker joining them. Inspired by Hunter’s new half skull tattoo, they decide to incorporate the symbol into all of their armor in some way. 

“So help me, Wrecker, if you tip over another can of paint…” Crosshair mutters, snatching up the at-risk bucket from Wrecker’s proximity. 

Wrecker is sprawled out on their barrack’s floor, taking up far more than his fair share of space. His paint brush flicks up, sending a spray of heavy duty white across the room. 

“You’re cleaning that up,” Tech says from his place at the table.

“No one will notice,” Wrecker assures them. “Maybe they’ll look like clean spots!”

Hunter sighs. “That’s not a good thing, Wreck.” 

Wrecker ignores the comment, instead dropping his paintbrush onto the tray Tech ordered him to use and holding up his helmet. “What do you think? It’s a skull.” 

“Not a human skull,” Tech points out. 

Wrecker shakes his head. “Human skulls are boring.” 

“There’s supposed to be red on your helmet somewhere,” Crosshair gripes. 

Wrecker reaches over and plucks Crosshair’s fine tipped paint brush out of his hand, the bristles still dripping red paint. Crosshair sputters a curse as Wrecker happily begins painting with the stolen utensil. 

“Hunter!” Crosshair cries, “Tell Wrecker to give it back.” 

 Hunter doesn’t even look up from his work. “Let’s share our toys like big kids,” he coos, earning a chuckle from Tech. 

“I’m gonna give it back in a second,” Wrecker says. “Almost done.” 

Crosshair growls something rude in Huttese. 

“There!” Wrecker says, tossing the brush back at Crosshair, the sniper catching it from the wrong end, paint staining the palm of his glove. Wrecker turns his helmet again to the room. “See? It’s perfect.” 

The number 99 is brandished across the forehead of his helmet in dripping red. 

“Subtle as usual, Wrecker,” Tech says. 

Wrecker grins. “Thanks!” 

Hunter sits back and admires his own helmet’s new design, carefully imitating his inked face. It’s exactly how he imagined it. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“I like this color,” Omega says, pointing at a swatch of teal paint. “Oh, and this orange is nice.” 

Tech glances at Hunter, clearly questioning the decision to let Omega choose their new armor colors. Hunter shrugs. At least it will look…different. Which is exactly what they want. 

“What about this one?” Wrecker asks, pointing at the yellow swatch.

“Yes! I like that one too!” Omega cries. 

They purchase the three cans of paint and some brushes before heading back to the Marauder. Omega is beside herself with excitement. “Do you think the paint will work on my helmet?” she asks. 

“Sure, kid, ‘course it will,” Wrecker says cheerfully. 

“I’m gonna use orange on mine, then,” Omega says. 

That evening, spread out under the Marauder’s wing, the Batch set about repainting their armor. Wrecker can’t bear the thought of covering up the skull on his helmet, so he settles for removing the bright 99 from it instead, sanding it down and repainting the area white. With Omega’s help, he uses orange and yellow to accent the rest of his armor pieces. 

Tech and Echo decide to monopolize the orange paint, leaving very little to Hunter. With a sigh, he picks up the teal paint, and pries it open. Omega beams at him. “I think that will be a very nice color on you,” she tells him sincerely, and suddenly, the color doesn’t seem so bad. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“All the armor’s been stripped. But we’re still not gonna blend in,” Echo says, tossing Hunter his helmet. 

The colors of his past lives have been removed with finality. He knows it is necessary; however, he can’t help but feel the pang of loss as he stares at the familiar piece of himself he’s had for so long, devoid of the visible memories lingering like ghosts behind him. 

Maybe they’ll paint their armor again, when all of this is over. 

If they all make it back. 

END

@the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts 🥳 I can't believe we've only got 4 more stories/chapters each to go!

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[starlitangels]

Dance with Me, Deviant (Starlight)

I wanted to post this last night but by the time I finished it, it was 10:00PM and that’s when my activity dies. So you get it today instead! 2.1k words

—

Avior, arms folded over his ribs, glowered around the room, leaning against one wall. Everyone gave him a wide berth. “Gavin,” he growled lowly. “Why did you insist on bringing me to this? This is stupid and pointless.”

From across the room, his friend—currently doing the most sultry rumba on the dancefloor with an unempowered human—smirked slightly. Avior caught a glimpse of it through the crowds. “Because dancing is fun,” Gavin replied. So quietly that only a demon could hear it.

Avior rolled his eyes. “Dancing is for humans.”

“Says who?”

Avior flashed Gavin a quick middle finger that the humans wouldn’t notice—earning him a quiet chuckle from the incubus. How they’d ended up friends—even acquaintances—was still a mystery to Avior. Who took pride in unraveling mysteries.

When the rumba song came to a close, Gavin kissed the hand of his dance partner and slipped into the crowd. Given Avior was under the impression Gavin was seconds away from getting himself and that partner kicked out of the establishment for public indecency, he counted that as a win.

“You know, you’d be a lot better-looking if you smiled,” Gavin teased playfully, settling back against the wall beside Avior. But a comfortable lounge compared to a sulking slouch. “Someone might even ask you to dance if you do.”

“Why do you think I’m not?”

Gavin burst out laughing. His relaxed, unhurried attitude never dislodging. The laugh, while hearty, wasn’t loud or raucous. He brushed a hand through his wild, dark hair, tangling the natural magenta streak at the front of his hairline back into the rest of it for a moment. “This is why I like bringing you out on excursions. You’re always such a hoot, Avior.”

“I assure you, ‘a hoot’ is not an adjective that suits me.”

Gavin shrugged. “Mm. Maybe not to others. But I’m not like most people.” He held a hand out toward Avior. “Here.”

“I’m not dancing with you.”

“Oh trust me, I know. But let me give you the knowledge of how to dance. Then go ask a nice human to the floor.”

Avior continued to eye Gavin’s extended hand skeptically. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Stop being such a pill, Avior.”

“A what?”

“Pills are often how people take medicine and many consider them unpleasant. So a person acting like a pill is a downer or unpleasant or boring. In this case, you’re the third.”

“I never claimed to be interesting. And I’m not interested in dancing.”

Gavin planted his hand on Avior’s shoulder. Magic surged between the demons and Avior cringed as he was flooded with Gavin’s memories of how to dance. Avior shoved him off with a frustrated grunt.

“The hell was that for?”

“Now you know how. May come in handy, someday.”

“I doubt it.”

Gavin waved vaguely to a couple out on the floor. “Look at how much fun those two are having.” A couple—one in slacks and a button down shirt, the other in a knee-length, multi-colored dress with a loose, flapping skirt—were energetically… swing dancing. He recognized it now. The taller one in the slacks was flinging the one in the dress around. Both of them beaming. Avior could feel their magical auras even from his distance. The couple were the only other magical signatures in the building. The taller one’s aura burned hot. Fire Elemental. The shorter one’s aura was far more subtle. If Avior concentrated he could hear the harmonies of a Dreamwalker.

“Don’t they look like they’re having fun?” Gavin prompted.

Indeed they were beaming broadly. The Dreamwalker’s head was thrown back in laughter more than once while the demons watched on. They looked like they knew what they were doing a little better than the others around them, but they still stumbled on their toes more than once.

“Yup.”

“That could be you!” Gavin encouraged.

“Nope.”

Gavin heaved a heavy sigh, lolling his head back against the wall. “You’re so boring.”

“You’re the one who dragged me here,” Avior retorted.

“What if—and hear me out—I ask someone to dance on your behalf?”

“Thanks but no.”

“Fine. But the next time I bring you here, you have to dance once.”

“No I don’t.”

“Avior,” Gavin warned around a tight jaw.

Avior smirked sarcastically. “What are you going to do, Gav, hmm?” His sharp tone cut along his tongue. “I’m a little older than you. It’s easier for me to refuel than it is for you, even with the less efficient diet. You know you can’t beat me.”

“Can’t I?” Gavin challenged.

Avior actually chuckled. “It didn’t end well for you last time, remember?”

“Last time doesn’t count. You had prep time.” Gavin pouted.

“So did you. I just used mine more efficiently.”

“C’mon. Ask one person to dance. Ask the Dreamwalker.”

“They’re both wearing wedding rings.”

“Yeah but say you’re learning and ask to be taught.”

“I’d rather not.” Avior looked down, materializing a watch on his wrist as he slid his sleeve back. “Look at the time. I need to get home. My student is going to be wondering where I am soon.”

Gavin sighed dramatically. “Fiiine. But next time you are dancing with someone.”

“I doubt there’s going to be a next time, Gav.”

With that, Avior pushed off the wall and headed for the darkness of the area that led to the bathrooms. Gavin watched as Avior crossed into the shadows and vanished through a rift no one would notice in the busyness of the rest of the dance venue. It was rare to find one like this, these days. They’d had to leave Dahlia completely behind to find a decent-sized place to go dancing. Gavin had always favored this one, in a mostly-unempowered human city an hour’s drive out from McKinley.

Gavin rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall, approaching someone who peeked at him and a spike of desire hit his senses. “Hey there, stranger,” he greeted. “Care to dance?”

—

Freelancer

Gavin set his phone screen-down on the kitchen counter. Soft, sultry jazz drifted from the speaker at the base of it. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, rocking back and forth. I closed my eyes and leaned back into him, setting the pot I’d been drying after doing the big dishes from dinner down in the drying rack. I copied his movements, reaching down with damp hands to set mine over his.

“Dance with me, deviant?” His voice was low and rich in my ear—even more so than usual. It sent a thrill down my spine.

“What makes you think I know how?” I asked, voice barely managing to speak above a whisper.

His fingers dug into the soft skin beside my hip bones. “Oh, come now, deviant,” he whispered. “You think I haven’t watched you cha-cha and waltz over this kitchen floor in your socks on a Sunday morning?”

I spun around, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck. “You like dancing, Gavin?”

“Interestingly enough, I do. Dancing is often a precursor to other… physical activities but… I actually tend to just enjoy it on its own merit.”

I smiled, tugging him closer to me. “I do too.”

He leaned in for a kiss. One I met eagerly. He hummed along to the jazz against my lips, still swaying us back and forth.

“I love you, Gavin,” I breathed against his lips.

“And I you,” he replied. “You’re my everything, deviant.”

I let his hands roam over me until he held my waist in one hand and he had my other hand in his. He pulled me flush against him.

“Do you trust me to lead?” His eyes—green in this light, but grey in others—held something akin to worry in them.

I smiled. “With everything I am, always,” I replied.

He held me close. “Press your shoulder blade back into my hand. You’ll feel my signals better.”

“I know.” I arched my back into his hand. His eyes closed.

We started to dance. How he seemed to know where the kitchen boundaries were with his eyes closed, I had no idea.

“What’s brought this on?” I asked.

“I can sense your stress about the Games tomorrow. I wanted to… ease some of it.”

“You’re sweet to me, Gav. Thank you.”

“Nothing but the best for my love.”

Another shiver slipped down my spine. “What’s that you were saying about dancing leading to other physical activities?” I asked, voice a bit squeakier than I’d normally prefer.

“Am I getting to you already?” He smirked lazily like he already knew the answer.

I dig my fingers into him. “Bedroom?”

Another lazy smirk. “Anything for my deviant.”

—

Starlight

“You’re being unusually quiet,” Avior said, voice clipped. As usual.

I shrugged. I wasn’t in the mood for another snippy conversation with him. “Nothing to say.”

“How unlike you.”

I grunted.

Avior’s eyebrows lowered. “What did I do?” he asked with a sigh, seeming exasperated.

“It wasn’t you,” I retorted, sharper than I intended.

The exasperation evaporated. “What’s wrong?”

“Homesick.”

He took a deep breath and leaned closer to me. “Me too.” He reached out as though to put a hand on my knee and hesitated. Instead, he passed me the sharp stone in his hand. “Your turn.”

I took it from him and we shuffled around in the cave until we traded spots. His name was carved in sharp, neat capital letters into the stone wall.

I knelt on the hard ground and started grinding away at my own name. The black rock yielded easier than it should have—than it would have in the real world.

“What do you miss?” Avior asked softly. Barely audible over the whipping wind, roaring fire, and distorted screams.

I took a deep breath and sighed. “Everything. A cool breeze on a warm day. The taste of hot chocolate watching a storm. Laughing with my friends. The boring coffee shop down the road from my apartment where I go to grade papers sometimes. Seeing the look on my students’ faces when they finally understand the concept I’ve been teaching. Dancing…” I felt my ears grow warm admitting that one out loud. I cleared my throat. “The little things.”

“You dance?” Avior asked.

“A little.”

“What kind of dancing?”

“Partner dancing, mostly. I like ballroom, swing, Latin. Not the best but I still enjoy it. Dancing is just… a human way to express joy.”

He smiled softly. “So I’ve been told.” He scuffed a hand through tight, wavy chocolate brown hair. I kept carving my name in the stone, already through half of it even though I should have been nowhere close.

Avior took a deep breath. “I dance,” he said. “I-if… if you’d… like to dance.”

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “U-uh… I… I…”

“Never mind. Forget I said anything I just thought you might like—”

“I would,” I interrupted. “There’s just… no music.”

Avior got to his feet and waved a hand. Music started emanating from nowhere. He offered me his hand. I took it and let him help me stand. I’d been kneeling on the stone ground long enough that my knees were aching. He let me rub and stretch them out. “Since when do you dance?”

“To be honest, I never learned,” Avior said. “But a few years back I had a friend who could. Really well, actually. He’s a demon too. He… essentially copy-and-pasted his memories of learning and knowing how into my mind. So now I know how. I even have his muscle memory. So I dance.” His hand twitched and the music got a little louder. I let him pull me into a better position.

“This music is beautiful,” I offered as he started to lead. “Where did you learn it?”

“All demons coalesce knowing and hearing the Spellsong.”

I gaped. “This is the Spellsong?”

Avior’s eyebrows scrunched. “Yes. Have you never…?”

“No. Humans only really hear a single person’s Spellsong—and that’s only when we bridge.” I cleared my throat. “And I… I’ve never…” I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“You’ve never bridged with anyone?”

“Nope. Never, uh… never been close enough to… never mind.”

We kept dancing. Simple and gentle. Nothing formal about it. Avior carefully tugged me closer to his chest. “Hey,” he said softly. “We’ll be okay. We’ll find a way out. We’ll get home. We both will.”

I rested my head on his chest. His heartbeat was strong and solid. There was comfort in hearing it. Feeling him. I wasn’t alone here. I’d been touch-starved for a month. Unwilling to get close to this demon. But now that he was holding me, my body was craving more. Just the contact. Just being held.

“I know.”

[oftlunarialmoon]

20 Princess/Royal Themed Ideas - OFT Royals

Ciao lovelies! Recently I’ve been finding joy in returning to my Princess Lifestyle! Which is kind of like Quaintrelle, but more royal themed. So, I wanted to make a new list of 20 Princess/Royal Themed Ideas! These ideas range from lifestyle ideas, writing prompts, video prompts, challenges, DIY ideas, beauty ideas, and more! All of these ideas are safe to do at home, and will hopefully make staying safe at home a little easier. (Repurposed for agere content 12/5/23, i originally wrote this post 5/20/2020 :-)

Let’s now get into this list, fellow Royals!

1.       Every Royal needs a Crown! Make yourself a crown, or maybe buy one. Or even turn a headband into a crown! You could even make yourself a more “subtle” and “undercover” crown by making a small crown hair pin or hair clip.

2.       On that note, why not go the extra nine yards and make a scepter? You could make yours look like a magic wand, or a traditional scepter, or even a magical girl item!

3.       Give yourself a royal spa day! Relax into a bath filled with bubbles and bath fizzes, or maybe bath salts, or maybe even use traditional beauty remedies. You could even use a face mask or a body scrub! Not to mention, be sure to moisturize your face! ^-^

4.       Write about your kingdom. What is it called? Who lives there with you? What are the people like? What is the terrain and the climate like? What is your currency? What languages are spoken there? What is the pop-culture like?

5.       Write about what it means to you to be a royal! What values should one have? What duties? How should one behave? (Looking for inspiration on this prompt? Check out OFT’s Royal Lessons!)

6.       Make a short look-book video of all your favorite Princess/Royal outfits! You can even center them around a theme like the season, colors, motifs, or more! If you’re camera-shy, make a capsule-wardrobe or mood board that reflects your royal style!

7.       Challenge yourself to cook or bake something new today! You could try out a traditional recipe or make up something new!

8.       Write about a historical figure that you look up to. What lessons can you learn from them? What do you admire most about them? Why are they important to you?

9.       Write about a celebrity or internet celebrity that you admire. What content do they create? What about them is so inspiring to you? Why do you admire them? What attributes do they portray that you look up to?

10.   Draw yourself in a royal self-portrait! It doesn’t have to be perfect. Think about how you view yourself (positively, I hope!). What aspects of yourself do you want to convey in this portrait? You could convey personality through what activity you’re doing in the drawing, or even through items your drawn self is holding!

11.   On that note, write about YOU! What activities do you like? What is your favorite thing about your personality? What causes are you passionate about? What attributes make you who you are? Self-exploration can help you lead yourself to a more self-aware and self-loving state!

12.   Take some time to learn about etiquette and write about something you learned. Why is it so important? What aspect of what you learned is relevant to the modern etiquette world? What aspects of what you learned might be outdated? When would you use the things you learned?

13.   Lucky 13 😊 Writing Prompt! What superstitions do you have, or what traditions do you uphold? Why are these important to you? What founded these beliefs?

14.   On that note, another writing prompt: take time to learn about a historical tradition of your choice. How was this tradition upheld in the past? Has it changed over time in any way? If so, why do you think it was modified? If not, why do you think it was preserved so well?

15.   Make a video where you try something from another era. This could be a recipe, tutorial, food dish, hobby, anything! If you are camera-shy, try something new from another era and write about your experience. What did you learn?

16.   Challenge time! Keep a dream journal for a full week (7 days). Did you discover anything new about your inner self? If you don’t dream, keep a journal of your sleep habits for a week. Have you noticed any patterns? Anything to improve or change? What about your current sleep habits is working well for you?

17.   Challenge time! Spend two weeks practicing a new skill. By the end of the two weeks, write a post or journal entry about or make a video demonstrating the skill you learned.  What did you choose to learn? How does this skill enhance your royal life?

18.   Write or make a video about something that you’re passionate about! Why does it excite you? Why do you like it so much? What cool facts could you share about this topic? How did you first get interested in it? Passion and interest are big parts of Royal life!

19.   Challenge time! Do something that is outside of your comfort zone (but still SAFE, okay?). Write about how you felt to push yourself out of your bubble. Was it enjoyable? Did you have fun? If not, what roadblocks do you think stopped you from having a good time? (Examples of this challenge include: cooking if one doesn’t like to cook, learning a new skill that’s high difficulty level, trying a new food, attending a virtual event, etc.)

20.   Give your space a royally good cleaning. If cleaning is bothersome to you, think about it as though you’re doing palace chores! Dress up, play some music, and daydream while you work! (Credit to Princess Skye for this idea, you should read her “Palace Chores” post!)

If you do any of these ideas, leave a comment on this post or tag us on Instagram, or use #OFTreaders on Instagram! I'd love to see your responses!

[spideystevie]

hi allie!!!! i love these prompts so much. can i have my hands shake i’m not usually this way but // you pull me in and i’m a little more brave please?? :) <3 ily!

hi!! thank you for sending ily. i also got real caught up in this one, i hope you enjoy <3 (1.1k)

5. my hands shake, i’m not usually this way but // you pull me in and i’m a little more brave

The first time you stepped foot into Family Video, Steve was immediately smitten. He couldn’t stop himself from tracking you with his eyes as you traipsed through the aisles. Your fingers floated along the covers of tapes on the shelves as you passed. 

The sweater you wore was a vibrant display of colors and hung down over your skirt. There’s a worn-in pair of Doc Martens on your feet, scuff marks on the left toe. Robin all but shoves him in your direction, Steve shaking out his shoulders before he approaches you. 

He tries so hard to be suave but something about you makes him nervous. You feel equally so, a tremor in your hands that you hide by folding your hands behind your back. His flirty remarks are a little cheesy but they make a heat rise to your cheeks, a smile tug at the corners of your lips. 

The movie you picked out is carried to the counter not by you, but by Steve. He takes his time renting out the movie to you, using it as an excuse to talk to you more. When he slides the tape across the counter, your fingers brush and a warmth blossoms where they touched. 

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” your voice is soft and you leave with a shy wave and a sweeter smile.

Your visits to the store get more frequent, each one an excuse to see Steve. The air of confidence you carry yourself with seems to diminish around him, nerves taking over when he starts to flirt. Your smile is coy, giggle breezy when he tells you that you look beautiful today.

When you leave the video store that afternoon you expect to leave with a return receipt and a glowing warmth from less than subtle flirting with your, now, somewhat friend, Steve. What you didn’t expect to leave with was a phone number written on the back of the receipt and date plans for that weekend. 

You feel giddy all week, floating on a cloudy high at the impending first date with Steve. When the day finally comes the nerves seem to sink in more than they ever did when you were just flirting in a random aisle at Family Video. 

He comes to your door, a single flower in his hand that you graciously accept. You make quick work of putting it in an old vase on the kitchen counter, aware of Steve standing on the threshold of your front door. 

His hand hovers over the small of your back, never quite touching but you can feel the heat of his palm radiating all the same as he walks you to his car. He’s quick to open your door for you and you give him a quiet word of thanks. 

The drive to dinner at Enzo’s is short but long enough to make you feel insane. Steve’s got one hand on the wheel, the other sitting by his thigh and occasionally running through his hair. He knows it voids the time he spent styling it, but you make him so nervous, unbeknownst to you, he can’t seem to help it. 

His nerves go undetected from you, in fact there’s a coolness to the way he looks right now. You wonder if he can tell how hard you’re trying to calm the nervous twitch of your fingers. He runs his own through his hair again, pieces falling into his forehead. Your eyes are fixated on him and the way his actions are only adding to your absentminded want for him. 

You manage to make it through dinner without a hiccup. A grin spreads each time you make him laugh, one that you hide behind your drink. A similar one spreads across his face when he says something that makes you fluster. 

After he drives you home, he puts the car in park when he pulls up in front of your house. You fidget in his passenger seat, feeling warm all over with how he’s looking at you right now. When you make a move to open your door he presses a hand to your thigh, making you pause and the skin on your thigh burn. 

Steve hurries to open the door for you, insisting on walking you up to your door to say goodnight. You rock on your toes, the nervous energy inside of you reaching a peak as you stand in the doorway with Steve. 

You can’t remember ever feeling this way on a first date, hands shaking and heart feeling like it’s going to beat out of your chest. 

“I, uh, had a good time tonight,” Steve’s voice shocks you, eyes snapping up to meet his gaze. His eyes are a warm honey brown in your porch light. A smile lifts your cheeks. 

“Me too. We should do it again,” you say, a sudden burst of confidence rushing over you. His eyebrows lift for a beat, pink lips parting. His silence makes you doubt and then you’re stuttering over your words. “Only if you want to!”

He grabs one of your hands and you hope he doesn’t notice the way it shakes. His other hand comes to rest on your hip. His touch sends tendrils of warmth across your body. Your face is inches from his and you feel a little more brave when you feel him pull you in. 

“I want to,” his voice is hushed and his eyes flicker down to your lips, tracing over the curve of your cupid’s bow before looking back up to meet your eyes. You swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry and your lips part. 

Your eyes dart to his lips, pink and plush and inching closer to yours. His lips are brushing yours and your eyes flutter shut, lashes kissing the curves of your cheeks. You want to grip the back of his head, press him flush against you. 

“Can I kiss you?” the question sets a flurry of butterflies loose in your stomach, a sweetness filling your chest. You nod, nose bumping his at the same time you surge forward and press your lips to his. 

A first kiss beneath your warm yellow porch light, flawless and sweet. There’s a hint of tentativeness to the way he holds you, the way his lips move against yours. He pulls back a little and your lips chase his, kissing him again. Firmer this time, more confident and a sweet sound catches in the back of your throat. 

You finally pull back, chests heaving. You’re wearing matching smiles and a soft laugh floats through the air. It wraps around the two of you like a golden piece of thread. Steve tucks it away as one of his favorite sounds, this moment as one to replay to live in forever. 

You can still feel the searing press of his lips against yours when you go to bed that night.

-

allie's writing celebration!

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

Flufftober Day 18: Soulmate AU

Here’s today’s snippet for Flufftober. Today’s prompt is: Soulmate AU and comes from @flufftober 's prompt list. I’m using the characters from Syndicate. These scenes are non-canon and written simply to practice with lighter content. Let me know if you want to be tagged in future responses for this event!

I have a lot I want to say in reflection on this scene that will be after the story itself, but just here at the top I want to say... I'm back! I really didn't want to skip flufftober for this long but I was sick for the last few days and wasn't able to write (or do anything, it was awful).

When I was into soulmate AUs I really liked the one where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate, and then you could see colors. I went with a more subtle version: Colors are dull until you're with your soulmate, then they become brighter/more saturated.

--

I’d picked the best meeting place I could: rooftop of an office building in the Violet District, behind the generator and looking out over the city. It wasn’t too hard to get to if you knew the trick, but was very private and very hard for people to sneak up on you from— you could see the rooftop entrance without them seeing you. I sat there now, staring out at the city, at the dots of lights and the cars that continued through the evening. Glanced at the door every few minutes, waiting for him to arrive. Rehearsing the plan in my head, or really, rehearsing telling him the plan, because I was worried he wouldn’t like it and he had to go along with it because I really didn’t think it was sustainable for him to stay in Calson.

When he opened the roof access door, I leaned back to see him, watched him look around for a moment before closing the door and finding the generator I’d mentioned. His hood was up, but I was sure to spot his face just to be sure it was him.

When he came around and sat down across from me, greeting me with a “Hi,” it felt like a spotlight had come on us. Something about the lighting must have changed, and I swept the area looking for a source— the nearby buildings, the sky as if it was a helicopter, the roof itself. But no light had actually come on, no one was watching us, and Raymond didn’t look like he’d noticed, so, fine. Must have been a trick of the light. I tried to ignore the unsettling feeling, and compromised with my paranoia by speaking quietly.

“So, I’ve figured out what you need to do,” I said. I unfolded a piece of paper and lay it out on a box sticking out of the generator, using it as a table.

He scooted closer so he could see. His hood was still up, and he was also quiet. Good, I’d wondered how chatty he might be, and it was a relief that we could get straight to the point. “You’re going to be going to Tasset. I’ve found a few places you can stay that don’t seem to be on the Syndicate’s radar in any way, so you can hide there for a while.” Tasset wasn’t far, and I thought he could get there safely, and it was also not of much interest to the Syndicate. But it was still big enough for someone to hide.

“I’m leaving Calson?” He wrung his hands, looked at his lap.

“Yeah. You can’t stay here, you could be spotted any day. Can’t risk it.”

“Okay,” he said, not arguing but he almost sounded like he wanted to, and he shifted so he was leaning his face on his hand, with the jacket sleeves pulled up around his hands. His jacket was green, but I thought it’d been more of a dull color, now it felt like it stood out. Too much, he should be wearing things that blended in.

“Try to wear darker colors, neutrals, things that don’t stand out,” I said. “The hood’s okay, but it can look too much like you’re hiding. A scarf, at least while it’s cool, can hide your face a bit…” I rattled off a few more tips for clothing that blended in. Raymond sighed, but just “mm-hmm’d” along.

He didn’t speak much the whole time I detailed our plans, even though he didn’t seem to love them. At least he didn’t argue with them. I just hoped it didn’t mean he’d ignore them. Usually when I made plans it was only me I had to trust to carry them out, I didn’t have to depend on this other person to carry them out.

“You understand the plan?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded and looked over my notes. “It’s a lot.”

“It’s to be safe. So you’re safe, so no one spots you. As far as I know, no one’s looking for you, but I want to prepare in case they are. If they catch you, I won’t be able to prevent this again.”

“I know,” he nodded. “I got it. I’ll follow the plan.”

I’d have to believe him. Leaving it up to him to follow was harder than I thought, and I looked over my notes again to see if I thought of anything else. I didn’t. I looked out over the city, running through it in my head. Double, triple checking. For a second, I got distracted, because the city looked bluer than it had a minute ago, the lights warmer, but I dismissed it, still thinking it over. I’d been pretty thorough, I concluded.

“Okay. I think you’re all set.”

He took the paper, folded it up.

“And don’t let anyone see that. When you’re done with that destroy it.”

He nodded. “So, if I’m going to Tasset, I’m not going to see you for a while?”

“Nope. Safest that way, but stay in contact. I’ll be checking in.” He fiddled with the paper. “Yeah, okay.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll be going then.” He stood up, looked at me again.

“Good luck. Let me know if anything happens,” I said.

He lingered for a second, then just nodded. “Yeah, I will,” and he walked away, heading back to the roof access door. And things got…darker. Duller. I squinted a bit, looking around in confusion, because just a second ago I’d been wondering why things had seemed… brighter.

Wait a second.

I’d heard about it before, the thing where colors get brighter. Zachary said it wasn’t really, it was just something people said and was sustained through confirmation bias. Soulmates were a romantic fantasy people told each other, but it wasn’t real or useful. And I’d agreed with him, partially because the idea of it was foreign to me.

Soulmates, attraction, love, I’d always thought of myself as separate form it, of it not being something I’d really experience and had no real need to.

And besides, I’d reasoned, he was probably right, because colors seemed bright enough to me already, because they should be brighter at home because of the lights anyway, right?

It couldn’t be right. I’d been around him plenty, I would have noticed before this. Wouldn’t I? Had things been duller since he left? So much had changed since then that I might not have noticed the difference.

And what did that even mean? Soulmate? I’d dismissed the idea so much that I didn’t even think I got what it might mean. And Raymond. Raymond? Was it actually possible?

I felt like I’d known him so long. For so long I hadn’t even really liked him, just hated that he was there. Maybe that was why I’d never noticed it. Did he see it too, had he noticed?

Was that why I’d saved him? I didn’t want it to be, that idea made me feel weird, guilty, like it cheapened it all. Like it had been a little dumb, illogical, and I didn’t want it to be, because this was really, really difficult and one of the only things that kept me at it was reassuring myself that it was the right thing to do. That it was the first time I’d don the right thing, and I wanted it to be that.

Maybe it was just some sort of psychological trick. Maybe I could ignore it. Forget about it. It wasn’t like I could do anything want’t like I could really consider it. I’d just sent him away, away to Tasset, and I wouldn’t se him again for at least a while. And it had to be that way, to keep both of us safe.

So I’d just forget about the colors.

--

Flufftober Tag List (ask to be +/-)

@puzzleddragon02

@sleepy-night-child

@drippingmoon

--

Reflection

(No one feel obligated to read this, but I feel the need to say this because I have a lot of thoughts on this).

So, a soulmate AU is very much not something I would do if not for being prompted like this, because even though I do think soulmate AUs can be very fun I also find them a little uncomfortable because of it not imo being the best way to build a relationship and it really leaving out ace people. And especially for Terran, who is demisexual, and that sort of external sign of a soulmate really seems to interrupt Terran and Raymond's development, partially because him discovering he liked Raymond is an important part of it, and partly because it isn't until very deep in their relationship that they would actually be able to have a healthy relationship.

This is sorta more a UA (Universe Alternation) than an AU-- this scene seems to me like something that likely did happen, and without the color stuff, to have gone roughly the same in the actual canon story. At this point, Terran is helping Raymond escape after faking his death. This is a point where Terran is starting to felt the need to be very controlling, and a point where Raymond takes it because he is very scared and needs that someone else to take charge. In addition, I don't think Terran did have any romantic feelings toward Raymond at this point, and my reason for that is reflected here at the end-- it recontextualizes the entire gesture, and may even have hindered his ability to learn morality. Terran loves Raymond here, but not romantically, and being able to extrapolate that to all people would be harder if it was a romantic feeling. Their relationship moving at the pace it does is very important to me, and a soulmate au triggering it to happen faster would change a lot about the story in a way that makes me very wary. But I know, I'm not supposed to go that deep into something like this, it is just for fun.

However, I also think that the soulmate AU could highlight really well something I want to explore in the story itself: Terran's model for love is skewed because of Zachary. Here, Zachary has denied the color change thing as real, because he saw Ariel as his soulmate but didn't experience the color change. Because of that, Terran doesn't think of it as real, as a thing he will experience, and doesn't recognize it when it happens to him. That is kinda fun. Also, it is fun to have Terran realizing he might like Raymond, which hasn't happened yet.

Finally, I don't really consider this as really achieving the goal of fluff. I'm okay with that, as it did make me discover some things and think a lot about the story. But yeah, I've failed that challenge today. I did a soulmate AU, at least, which is a challenge for me of its own.

[goldenroutledge]

can I request number 2 & 3 from prompt list b with drew pretty please??? 🤍 p.s. luv u and congrats on 500 💕💕

kiss me more

pairing: drew starkey x reader

word count: 1.0k

warning(s): just fluff!!

summary: during a movie night with your family, you and drew have to sneak away for a minute

a/n: i wrote this with my aspen’s bliss au in mind, since i thought it would be cute to write a little blurb about it but it can be read as a stand alone!! i combined this w another request too, the prompt is bolded!

drew starkey masterlist

© goldenroutledge || do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work in any way

The day ended almost as quickly as it began, but after all, there was truth to the saying ‘time flies by when you’re having fun’. Nobody had any desire to check on the time while skiing all day, letting the light of the sky lead the way up until dark.

Your nieces and nephew begged to have a movie night before it was time for them to go to bed, and everyone was on vacation so why not. They could stay up a little later than usual. Sure the activities in Aspen were fun, but relaxation was just as important. Especially if you didn’t want to be flying home with a stiff and sore body.

Once everyone had freshened up, the kids plopped right in their favorite spots on the large sofa, arranging their blankets and pillows while the adults prepared popcorn and snacks. You and Drew were the last out of your room, though it was unintentional.

On vacations like these, stopping to smell the roses mattered more than usual. It was nice to slow down from your busy lives for once and enjoy one another. Along with your family too, of course. But you’d take what you could get.

Drew moped behind you down the hallway, legs more exhausted than he led on. He was doing an awful job at hiding the discomfort caused by his aching muscles so far.

“You ok, babe?” You asked him, eyes peering over your shoulder to catch his subtle limping.

“Oh, yeah.” Drew played off. “Never been better.”

A giggle escaped your lips as you stopped walking and waited for him towards the end of the hallway, folding your arms over your chest as you cocked an eyebrow at his fib. “Oh, yeah? It doesn’t look like it.”

He took your hand in his as you leaned against the wall, his other arm circling around your waist. “I think your eyes are deceiving you. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Whatever, you say, love.” You quipped. “If only you took my advice to stretch before hitting the slopes today, then maybe you wouldn’t have to hide your sore limbs.”

You advanced towards the living room, dragging Drew by the hand you still held onto. He had other plans apparently, spinning you around to face him before pulling you into his arms.

“They’re waiting on us.” You reminded him, half-protesting but still melting into his embrace. You took a deep inhale of his scent while your nose drowned in the fabric of his pajama shirt, your head nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Fine.” He grumbled into your hair, releasing you from his arms.

“If you can even get there.” You teased, patting his shoulder playfully and earning a wince out of him.

-

Ignoring the heavy feeling of your eyelids wanting to pull down, you tried your hardest to pay attention to the Incredibles that was currently playing on the large flat screen. Your nephew begged for that movie, and succeeded once he won in a simple game of heads or tails.

In all honesty, it was hard to pay attention to the movie with Drew right beside you, his arm hanging loosely around your shoulders. He looked beautiful, sitting there in an ivory colored T-shirt and some sweatpants, hair tousled just how you liked it. Not to mention his features that were shining just right from the glow of the TV.

The warmth from the plush blanket kept you cozy, but you swore you were burning up once Drew caught you staring and admiring him out of the corner of his eye, smirking to himself afterwards. Damn, the things he did to you. It just wasn’t fair.

Unraveling yourself from the blanket and his hold, you leaned up to his ear to whisper your reasoning. “I’m gonna get a drink, I’m thirsty.” Thirsty for something, alright. He simply nodded as you got up and sauntered away into the kitchen.

The ice water felt good on your throat and helped your overheating body as it streamed through, taking a few gulps immediately. The glass nearly dropped from your hand and shattered on the floor at the feeling of a hand on your hip, your boyfriend shushing you shortly after he felt you jump.

“It’s just me, darling.” He reassured through a mumble, pressing a featherlight kiss to your warm neck.

Setting down the glass on the counter, you turned around and huffed in faux frustration. “Ok, I know you haven’t done anything, but can you please stop looking so goddamn kissable, my whole family is here.”

Drew chuckled, hands finding home on your waist. “I guess I just can’t help it.”

“Well, start helping it, Starkey. I’m struggling here.”

“Ok, sweetheart.” He soothed, gazing at you with pure adoration. “I’ll try to look less kissable, I guess.”

He slid his tongue between his teeth to suppress his laughter as he grinned, running a hand through his already messy hair.

Taking one quick peek around the corner to the living room, you checked to see if the coast was clear. Fuck it.

In one quick motion, you cupped his face with both hands and connected your lips together. The kiss was sweet but longing. Being around family for an entire vacation really didn’t allow for PDA, and who knew you would feel so touch starved after just a few days.

Drew was surprised but took almost no time to reciprocate, smiling against your lips as you gave into your temptation.

“I don’t think it’s working.” You whimpered in between kisses, your smile growing too big at the point you had to pull away.

“Apparently not.” Drew added, eyebrows raising at your change of tune. “But I don’t mind, y’know… maybe you should kiss me s’more.” He muttered, attaching his lips to yours once again.

Just as your hands were tangling in his hair, the ‘Ahem.’ of someone clearing their throat made you pull back suddenly.

“Enjoying your drinks?” Your older sister queried, tilting her head as she looked at you two.

Your shocked and guilty expressions turned back to amused ones very quickly, taking each other’s hands as you made your way past her and out of the kitchen.

“Mhm.” You answered, winking at Drew. “Just what I needed.”

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @babeyglo @reawritesthings @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneybobeczko-g @jjpouggues @j-j-may-bank @starrycigarettes @eifhames @outerbankies @pogueslandia @kaysapogue @mildkleptomaniac @whcclxr @mrs-cameron @maybanksslut @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @alanniys @sunnymaybank @amourslover

drew taglist: @chrisevansfuturewife @littlementalpolaroids @1d5sosddl

[ayamturd]

cuddles│technoblade

summary: you want cuddles, but techno’s busy; laughs turn insecure, yet love overpowers it all

prompt: “Why won’t you let me love you?”

warnings: none, only fluff

pairing: in-game c!technoblade

a/n: this is my entry for @mayasimagines​‘ 600 writing event!! huge props and congratulatory once more, they’re such a talented and creative writer (pls go give them love!)

i was really tempted to make it angst, i won’t lie lol (also techno visual based off SAD-ist design cause pretty pig make yam go brrrr)

wc: (1.4k) - m.list

“Techno.”

Tilting his head to glance behind him, Technoblade’s ear twitched once spotting you. You were dressed comfortable from the cold weather despite the roaring fire besides him. Holding a pillow you carried from bed, you rested your chin above it while clutching the soft fabric close.

He turned back to his work before addressing you, mixing the most recent ingredients he gathered the same day in a small brewing pot. The potion glistened in the dark of the night, the concoction dyed a subtle grey as it was unfinished. 

“What?”

You padded closer to him, and with him sat low at the work bench, you leaned onto him from behind, resting against his back while laying on his shoulder. He barely moved from your current position on him. 

“Cuddle.” He gave a small noise to indicate that he heard you, but continued to stir his potion. Being the patient person you were, you waited until the color slowly shifted its hue as a sign it was finished. Setting the spoon aside, Techno grabbed the nearest rag and began cleaning his hand. 

“I’m busy,” he murmured, still distracted as he looked back to his current elixir on the stand. You frowned from his words, and as if he could sense it, he tried to reassure you. “But I’ll try for later if I can.” 

That wasn’t good enough, you thought. With the pillow trapped between the two of you, you moved your arms around him and held his torso, hooking your hands together to secure him. 

“But… cuddles?” 

In spite of your attempts, Techno disregarded the small and childlike tone you used. You started to pout from his lack of response and narrowed your eyes in annoyance. Moments passed without an answer, and you lifted your head back up the stairs while still settled close to his neck, the idea of going to bed alone making you discourage to make the trek back. 

With a slight sigh, you let go of him completely and hugged the pillow again, gathering yourself before heading towards the fireplace. Picking up the disregarded throw blanket on the armchair, you dropped the pillow close to the fire and plopped yourself on it, crossing your legs while wrapping the blanket around you comfortably. 

The warmth from the fire would have to do in place of Technoblade’s body heat, and with your backed turned towards it, you leaned onto your placed palms to observe him.

After a few minutes, Techno couldn’t ignore your staring any longer, sighing and turning towards you. He had his hand against his knee with the other rested on his table, twisting his body.

“What are you doin’?”

Slightly smirking from his question, you took his appearance, it being the first time you could fully saw him with his attention on you for the first time that day. His hair was disheveled, yet fluffy as it encompassed his face, like a halo to emphasize his handsome features. 

Though white and sometimes argued empty, you loved staring into his eyes. They always expressed more than what he was willing to voice, and although they currently were squinted from confusion, they were filled with a charm most wouldn’t see from him. 

You looked him up and down, noting his casual wear and the way he rolled his sleeves up, before concentrating on his face again.

“I wanna be near you, you’ve been busy all day.” 

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head and shifting his body completely to face you, resting his elbows on both his knees and tilting his head down at you. 

“You sure are bein’ clingy, huh?” Your dazed grin dropped immediately from his teasing, and the action made Techno laugh loudly, it devolving to his classic snickering.

Reaching behind you, you snatched the chair cushion and chucked it his way. Technoblade obviously caught the aimed projectile mid throw but was weak to his current laughing fit. 

You pushed yourself promptly off the ground, and with a roll of your eyes, began walking away. Techno reached out to grab you, his laugh fading with a big smile.

“Wait, wait-” You stepped back before his hand could nab you, and crossed your arms at him.

“No, leave me alone. You’re being mean.” 

He chuckled, and stood up, his height in full as he towered over you. Shrieking from his playful glare, he bounded for you while you tried to run. You were quickly caught and yelled loudly once picked up off the ground. 

With his hands on your waist, he spun you fast, laughing with you and pulling you close to him. His breath tickled your neck while his tusks rubbed gently against your hair. He continued to spin you relentlessly, your feet pathetically dangling helplessly below. 

Eventually you grew tired and dizzy from the notion, shouting out in giggles for him to stop. He paused from your protests, and without warning, threw you up in the air.

You gasped from the unexpected action, voice caught in your throat from the sudden motion and the fear that gripped you. Before you knew what was happening, you were back in his arms, instead held bridal style within his arms. 

Gripping onto his dress shirt and with wide eyes, you looked up at his proud grin. What a show off. 

You smacked him, though not hard, and he laughed again. Wrapping your arms his neck, you laughed with him, smothering yourself into his chest and breathing in his scent. You really did miss him today, and with his hands holding you, you melted from the close contact. 

While your laughing waned, his did not. You stared up at him like before, watching how beautiful he was in the dim lighting against the crackling fire and the open starry darkness of the night in contrast. You adored him for his openness with you, you loved him for being him around you. 

Tenderly, you put a hand on his cheek, turning his focus onto you. You lifted yourself up in his arms, and ever so slowly, leaned up to kiss him. Before you could, however, he turned his head away, the action small yet noticeable to your acute senses and knowing eyes. 

You pouted lightheartedly, hanging your head back dramatically as a joke. 

“Why won’t you let me love you?”

Techno became silent, swallowing a harsh inhale from the innocent and obviously meaningless tease. Despite the previous laughs, the room’s atmosphere changed, a now empty and tense space. 

Your feigned heartbreak-act softened, though the frown remained in place. You knew what he was doing; he was going too deep in thought and over analyzing, letting the voices reign control over insecurities and fear. No matter how strong or vicious he may seem to others, you knew him and that essentially, he was a man who was too anxious and too doubtful of himself for his own good. 

With a comforting smile, you called his name, bringing him back after briefly falling into the void. 

“Hey love?”

Blinking repeatedly to regain control, Techno snapped his head at you, your voice calm and firm in spite all that he was forced to hear. He hummed as to answer, and you cupped his cheeks before he could escape your attempted kiss again. 

He was still for a few seconds, before becoming undone and lifting you closer towards his lips, fingers curling tightly on you as to express the uproar of emotions he held for you. 

You pulled yourself up, hand reaching into his hair while the other remained kindly to his light stubble. Techno supported you further by shifting you, his arm now against your back that cradled you into a sitting position. 

The kiss was tender and passionate, yet more gentle than one would assume. All you could feel was him and him alone, nothing breaking the pure moment of bliss and true pleasure between the two of you. 

You pulled away suddenly, while fast, but to express anything left unsaid between your shared acts. 

“Love you,” you whispered, still out of breath from the loss of air. Techno couldn’t help the adoring gaze he showed for you, his own voice bright from the high of your taste. He met your forehead halfway, and closed his eyes while speaking so closely to you. 

“Heh, and I you, darlin’.”

“Cuddles now?”

Techno nodded, using his hands to carry your thighs as they moved to wrap around his torso instead. He walked you both towards the stairway to your bedroom, his hold on you never faltering against him. 

“Yeah, cuddles now.”

[justanothersimp21]

Greetings! Main Account for donnabenevientosimpingzone here! I know I’ve already told you through DMs that you’re such a lovely person and I appreciate you, but I just HAVE to repeat it: you’re wonderful and I see you<3

True to my side blog- I’m a hardcore Donna simp. 2 and 5 feel like they could go together really well for the fluffy prompts- I hope you don’t mind me asking for two! Much love and thanks!

You are also a lovely person and I appreciate you as well! <3

And I don’t mind that you ask me for two. This is long overdue, hope you enjoy!

“I love how you look in my shirt.”

“You’re unbelievably cute when you’re tired.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You grumble as you ungraciously slip into the comfortable king size bed, exhaustion seeping through your bones.

You face plant into your cool pillow and throw the blankets over your body, a small sigh of relief escaping you as your tense shoulders relaxed.

“Cara mia?” You pick your head up at your lover’s soft call.

Donna stood at the doorway of your shared bedroom, her bare face exposed as her veil was nowhere to be seen. She was smiling bashfully at you, a subtle pink hue on her cheeks. Her hair was up in a loose bun that made her look all the more adorable.

You sent her a tired smile, “Good evening, my love.”

Your eyes took in her lithe form in appreciation, widening in pleasant surprise when you caught sight of what she was wearing, “I love how you look in my shirt.”

You were a fan of baggy white t-shirts that looked big on you but seeing Donna wear it, it was as if she was wearing a short dress. The shirt went down to her thighs, her creamy legs on display.

The blush on her cheeks burned a brighter color at the compliment as she bit her lip, fully entering the room and walking over to the other side of the bed.

You watched her with a warm smile on your face as she joined you under the covers. The doll maker immediately cuddled into you, laying her head on your chest, right above your heart. A small sigh of comfort leaving her as she nuzzled into you, her left hand circling around your stomach.

Lifting your hand, you gently ran your fingers through her hair, undoing her bun so she could sleep more comfortably.

“You really do look amazing in my shirt,” You can’t help but murmur once again as you smooth out her hair.

Donna stayed quiet for several seconds until she lifted her head slightly to lock eyes with you and mutter, “You took longer than usual to come back home today, and I missed you so I put on your shirt…It makes me feel safe.”

You melted at how softly she looked at you and her response, so many emotions in her eye. Cooing gently, your right hand traveled from her hair to delicately cup the side of her face, your thumb massaging her cheek.

She automatically leaned into your touch, her eye slipping closed as a small yawn escaped her.

Donna mentioned yesterday that she was going to have a meeting today with her family, and that she needed to plant some more flowers. So, it’s safe to say that she had an eventful day. You wanted to ask how everything went but she seemed drowsy already.

She must be so exhausted.

You chuckled and gently laid her head back down on your chest, moving your fingers back up to run them through her silky hair, “You’re unbelievably cute when you’re tired.”

After finishing your sentence, your own yawn managed to escape you. Donna, who was on the verge on falling asleep, mumbled out, “You are too.”

Her breathing evened out soon after, letting it known that she was already sleeping. If she had looked up after her last statement, she would’ve seen a light blush on your face.

You rubbed your face with your free hand before wrapping it around your lover, keeping her close to you. Your other hand continued to massage her head, weaving through her soft tresses. Leaning down, you pressed a kiss on top of her head before whispering, “Goodnight, my love.”

————

[yourmidnightlover]

the nickname

Summary: reader convinced spencer to let her take the reins in the bedroom... or does she?

TW: oral (male recieving), fingering, mention of overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, riding, scratching, use of nicknames (princess, love, etc.), hints at sugar daddy!spencer, age gap (not specified but i’m thinking around 10-15 years). *let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 2,912

A/N: this hinted at sugar daddy!spencer (not really hinted so much as saying it outright). I also wrote this for @anxiousblanketqueen ‘s fic contest for her birthday! i believe it’s prompt number 21. i hope you enjoy :)

————————————————————————

you had been together for a while, now. maybe 13 months? you bet spencer could recall - more like knew he could.

you had met when you were one of his students. you're going to georgetown on an academic scholarship because no way in hell could you pay for the full tuition when you still couldn't afford it with the scholarships.

he took a liking to you - how could he not? you were a hard worker and proved yourself to be extremely determined. on top of the obvious intelligence, you had a beauty that radiated around you. and that beauty had a touch of... innocence. and maybe that innocent beauty is what initially attracted him to you, but he'd like to think it was just your personality as a whole.

you were never one of the students who would come to his office after hours for help you clearly didn't need. you would use your colored pens and highlighters to help organize your notes, so it took a while to pack everything up to leave.

one day, when there weren't any students lined up out his door, he went to your seat as you were cleaning up. you looked up, rather surprised that your inappropriate crush was standing right by you.

"uhm... hi," you smiled at him as you put your pencil pouch in your bag, breaking eye contact for the briefest of seconds before returning your attention back to him.

"hi. i was uhm..." he cleared his throat, "i was wondering if you had any questions? you never come to the office hours for questions and i was just... just making sure," he stuttered out.

"oh," you chuckled a light, airy laugh that spencer wished he had recorded so he could replay it over and over and over. "i don't have any questions. i guess that just means that you're a really good professor - very thorough," you stood up and flung the bag over your shoulder, still incredibly shorter than him.

"than-thank you," he smiled. "i'm happy to hear that you're actually getting something out of the lessons," you began walking out of the classroom, looking back to ensure that he was following you.

"yes, i truly do," you agreed. "i'm also pretty sure i'm one of the other people who isn't auditing the class," you added.

"correct, you are," he enthusiastically gestured, another laugh leaving your beautiful lips.

"i mean, you can't necessarily blame them for just taking the class," you chuckled as he held the door open for you, you gave him a subtle 'thank you.'

"what do you mean?" he asked in a soft tone.

"i mean you- you're..." you trailed off, gesturing to his entire body in hopes to convey what you meant. he just looked at you with a confused taste, letting you know you needed to elaborate. "you're very... attractive, professor reid."

"oh-that's very... thank you," he blushed as you halted by the bus stop.

"of course," you turned around, looking up to meet his eyes. "so... wait, what time is it?" you asked rather frantically.

"it's," he looked at his silver watch adorning his wrist, "6:27."

"shit," you swore for the first time in front of him, underneath your breath.

"wha-what is it?" he asked, perplexed as to why you would be so frustrated.

"the last bus leaves at 6:15 and i've missed it," you huffed out, trying to compose yourself before checking your bag and realizing, "i forgot my key and my roommate is at her girlfriend's house."

"is there anything i could do?" he asked concerned.

"no i can... i can just stay at the library. i should probably study up anyway," you tried to laugh it off although you knew it was pointless... he was a profiler for christ's sake.

"the library? y/n, this might seem a bit inappropriate but i have a spare room you could stay in until your roommate gets back," he offered kindly.

so, you took him up on his offer.

you slept in his spare room after he got you both takeout. you laughed and talked for what seemed like meer minutes but turned out to be until 1 a.m. you talked about string theory and the leonard euler's paradox. he gave you interesting facts about tortoises and achilles.

that little hangout session turned into countless hangouts over the span of three months. and then he asked you out on a real date once you finished at the top of his class - and not just because you were his favorite.

the first time with spencer was... beyond delightful. he was captivating with the way he worked against and for your body. it was almost as if he felt like his sole purpose on earth was to please you. he was eager, yet patient with the way his tongue flicked and sucked at your skin.

he was such a dominant personality in the bedroom, which was extremely appreciated since you didn't have much experience in that arena. but now that you were more versed in that world, you wanted to experiment a bit more.

casually, he began to pay for your things. it wasn't so head-on at first. it would be paying for your groceries, or buying all of your college books for you. but then it got a bit bigger. when your roommate couldn't give you the necessary half of the rent that was due and was beginning to be a nuisance, spencer quite literally let you move into his place. he would pay for your car's repairs and bought you jewelry consistently.

one time, as a joke, you called him your sugar daddy - mostly because that's how he acted. he just didn't like the term. he felt as though it made your relationship together seem one-sided when you were, in fact, very in love with the man. you came to realize it also made you seem like a gold digger, which you weren't - even though the money is a nice plus. so, you relented and didn't say that again.

spencer never really had much time off now that he was working back at the bau and traveling but now, you had him to yourself for a whole week. you had been planning this since he told you when he'd be off.

step 1: look sexy - you always looked sexy to him, but feeling sexy would also be a plus.

step 2: surprise him while looking sexy - absolutely devious.

step 3: seduce him - when doesn't he want you? exactly.

it was foolproof.

you had gotten the text 15 minutes ago that spencer was on his way back to his place, wanting you to meet him there once he had settled in. little did he know that you were in a sexy little white number - the white reminded him of your innocence which really got him going - lying in wait for him in a pair of heels. you sat in one of his reading chairs, deciding to pick up a book until he got home.

when you heard the jingling of keys coming from the other side of the door, you assumed your position. the chair was turned toward the door, you sitting pretty with one leg crossed over the other.

spencer walked through the door, hanging his coat and briefcase up before finally noticing you. his eyebrows shot up, looking your body up and down hungrily.

"wow," he smiled a wicked grin as he slowly made his way to where you were sitting. you stood up, heels clicking as they hit the floor and walked closer to him.

"i wanna try something," you placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly until he was forced to sit down on the couch.

"and what would that be, princess?" he asked, hands stroking your hair that was cascading down your back.

"i..." you bent down to whisper in his ear, "i want to be in charge tonight," you placed a soft kiss below his earlobe, feeling his body shudder subtly at the proposition.

"are you sure you can handle that?" he chuckled, hands roaming to your waist and grinding your hips down on his.

you almost gave up. almost. you grasped his hands, placing them on the arm of the couch before getting close to his face. your lips were almost touching before you whispered, "no touching today, pretty boy."

you felt his hips rut up against your core, you chuckled at his eagerness. you decided to throw him a bone and ground down, hard, against his hips. the groan he let out was low and enticing, nearly enough to allow you to give him whatever he wanted.

"bedroom," you whispered against his neck before getting off of his lap, allowing him to scurry to the room. "take off your clothes while you're at it!" you giggled under your breath as you heard his clothes shuffling, telling you that he was obeying your request.

you waited a couple of minutes until you went into the room, wanting to have him go a bit insane like he normally did to you. when you walked in, he was laying on his back on the bed, just like you wanted. his cock was already red and leaky, prominent as it bounced on his tummy.

"good boy, spence," you giggled, walking over to him and straddling his legs.

once you were settled, you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before trailing them down his torso, leaving the occasional hickey scattered on his chest. traveling kisses down his happy trail, you traced the vein on his dick and watched it twitch up and hit his stomach once again you giggled at the reaction.

"now i understand why you like so much responsiveness," you chuckled as you pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to the tip of his cock, he hissed once again from the contact.

you slowly took his cock in your mouth, agonizingly slow, and flattened your tongue at the base. one you got him as far down you could manage, you began bobbing your head just as slow. his hands flew to your hair, trying to force you to go faster until you swatted them away.

"should i tie those up?" you threatened, your hand working at his member as you spoke.

"are you fucking kidding me?" he swore, clearly agitated by your antics.

"no," you squeezed his dick for punctuation, the way he grunted made the wetness pool in your underwear. "i'm not kidding you."

you took him in your mouth once more, bobbing your head far more vigorously than before this time, just to spite him. hollowing your cheeks, you swallowed around him and began gagging around his dick before coming back up for air.

"fuck," he whispered underneath his breath, not wanting to let you know just how much of an effect you had on him.

you smiled to yourself and continued your antics until he was spilling all down your throat. you didn't stop there, you came back up and let your hand continue pumping his member slowly.

"shit," he hissed from the stimulation.

"shhh," you put your free finger up to his lips.

you gave his dick a few more strokes, curses leaving his lips delightfully before you drew your hands up his body once more before straddling his lap. after moving your panties to the side and slicking his cock with your arousal, you ground against him leisurely, trying to tease him a bit more. you unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. finally, you reached between the two of you and lined him up with your entrance.

"are you sure you can do this?" spencer asked, not to entice you, but to make sure you were alright.

"there's a first for everything," you chuckled, knowing you had never been on top before.

you had never been on top before - you'd like to blame your lack of experience. you knew it might be hard to keep up the pace, but you were determined to make not only yourself but also make spencer feel good. that's all you've ever wanted. that's what you're meant to do - make him feel good. so no matter what it took, you'd make it happen.

you slowly lowered yourself onto his dick, being wary of how much bigger he felt from the new angle.

"shit," you whispered, your hands resting on his chest in attempt to ground yourself. "oh god..." you trailed off, feeling your dominant personality fade away as the pleasure overtook you.

"keep going, princess," he spurred you on, his hands finding your waist and rubbing gentle circles on your skin. "you've got it."

so you rose on your knees until only his tip was inside of you for you to lower yourself once more. you whimpered from the feeling of him re-entering your body, your pussy clenching around him as if he were an intruder.

"doing so good for me," he grasped your waist a bit tighter so he could help you rise and fall on his cock. "fuck, it's so good."

"d-doctor, i-" you stuttered, the persona nearly entirely gone and nowhere to be seen as he continued to move you up and down.

when you learn forward, your face hovering over spencer's chest, he took the opportunity to wrap his arms entirely around your waist. before you knew it, he was slamming his length into your pussy over and over and over and over again.

"oh! oh my god," you moaned, your voice reaching a higher octave as he drilled into your body in the most pleasurable way imaginable. "don't stop! don't stop! ple-please!" you screamed out, your hands wrapping around his torso and squeezing his body to ensure that he was there - present.

"i won't, princess. just let go. let go for me," he pressed a kiss to the top of your head so sweetly in contrast to how he was fucking you.

"i'm cumming! oh god, i'm cumming, spencer!" you cried out as you released the tension from inside of you.

only spencer wasn't done yet, so he took himself out of you, and he placed you on your back before reentering you. he moved in and out of you at a godly pace, trying to get himself to his climax before you would become too overwhelmed from the overstimulation.

"spen- spencer," you scratched at his back, surely leaving red marks for him to ogle once you were through. "i-i'm close," you sucked lightly at his earlobe before he moved his hand between the two of you, circling the little bundle of nerves at your crest.

"my little insatiable bunny, huh?" he smiled as you whimpered into his ear, nearing your second release. "loves my cock a bit too much, huh?"

"please! fuck!" you shouted out as you came on his dick, pulling at his hair. the clenching and fluttering of your pussy finally sending him over the edge, his hot release flooding your insides.

"fuck," he groaned into your ear as he carried the two of you through your releases. "good job, princess," he pressed a kiss to your neck as you stroked his hair, playing with it as you were still coming down.

"i'm sorry," you frowned once he pulled out, finally making eye contact as he lay down beside you.

"what for?" he asked incredulously.

"i just... i wanted to make you proud and i couldn't even finish without your help," you explained in a whiney manner, not allowing yourself to meet his beautiful eyes.

"hey," he grasped your chin to force you to make eye contact. "i love it when i have to help you reach that high. that's not something to be embarrassed or upset about."

"i know but i wanted to ride you and i couldn't even do that," you rolled your eyes.

"it takes time to get used to doing that," he chuckled. "and besides, riding someone on the bed is never a good way to begin. the couch is always better - that way you have the back of it to hold onto."

"really? so it's not that i'm just terrible at being a top?" your eyes widened with hope, he smiled at your eagerness.

"i think you could be a switch but it needs a bit of work, my love," he brushed your hair behind your ear before seeing your disappointed gaze and adding, "but i'll bet that with enough practice i could start calling you my little bunny, yea?"

"really?" you perked up at the proposition. "i want you to call me that."

"well then, i guess we better start practicing," he grinned before leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss, his hands flying to your waist as he stood the both of you up to go to the couch.

needless to say, with spencer's guidance you were able to master the art of riding him. and you got that special little nickname, too.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@emilyprentisslittlewhore​

@spenxerslut​

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment saying so!

[kiribakuhappiness]

Prompt- someone in class 1A bodyswaps with kirishima. For some reason they don't/can't tell their class. Whoever is in kiri body (your choice) has to deal with soft baku who either is about to confess or is already secretly dating kirishima

(Kiribaku Drabble Prompt) OH MY GOD. I AM DEAD. JUST TAKE IT. with love.

The alarm went off (supposedly) at exactly six o’clock in the morning just like it did every other morning from what felt like the beginning of time. But the tune that drifted over into his ears sounded a bit strange today, and the sheets felt a bit scratchier and heavier than he remembered them being, and - probably most importantly to note - Izuku hadn’t even needed to twitch a single muscle that morning before the blaring noise was being cut off again on its own and the room was plunged back into stifling silence.

Which all lead to the objectively horrifying conclusion that there was someone else in this bed with him.

Izuku tried not to notice how frantically his heart was pattering away inside his chest, and he kept his eyes closed to maybe continue to give off the absolutely false pretense of still being asleep, but it was no use.

He was effectively freaking out.

Why did this kind of stuff keep happening to him? First it was Aoyama leaving him cheese outside on his balcony and now this? Should he be telling somebody about these incidents? It was starting to feel like maybe it was time for him to tell somebody. All Might, maybe? Principal Nedzu? His mom?

But… that alarm… it hadn’t been set to the sound he was used to.

And these bed sheets... they were so familiar somehow...

Izuku swallowed down his rattled nerves as quietly as possible before he unfurled one of his shaking fists to touch more prominently at the heavy comforter currently all tangled up around his limbs that felt too warm, so very careful to avoid shifting too obviously or accidentally bumping into whoever the hell was next to him.

No... Izuku knew these sheets. The way that the material caught on the pads of his fingers and pulled at long forgotten memories too blurry in his adrenaline-filled state to properly see them, and that smell! He took in a deep, slow breath through his nose, and he recognized all of them. His brain prodded him with useless bombardments of dismembered images. A pillow. A blanket. A couch. A kitchen. A color. A voice.

Oh. No.

This was Kacchan’s room.

Why the hell was Izuku in Kacchan’s room?!

Why the hell was he in Kacchan’s bed?!?!

These were the exact same sheets, the same rough texture, the same familiar smell of a subtle bleach and a smoldering stack of firewood that had been ingrained into his memories since before he was old enough to even be fully self-aware of such significant sights and sounds and sensory triggers.

But this hand...

Izuku wiggled his fingers as carefully as he dared to, but it all felt wrong. The wrist was too wide, the tendons in his forearm were too strong and sturdy, like they’d never been strained or bruised before in their entire lives, fresh and limber and toned.

No. None of this was right.

“Oi, we fuckin’ gettin’ up or what?” Kacchan’s hoarse, early-morning voice cracked somewhere beside him before an equally rough palm smacked hard into his bare shoulder and startled Izuku’s eyes wide open with a chaotic lurch in the opposite direction as he rushed to sit up and put as much distance between them as possible.

Oh wow. Yeah. This was Kacchan’s room alright.

That poster used to be in his bedroom back at his parent’s place, and that snowboard leaning against the dresser in the corner had his signature orange stripe down a solid black background, and this was definitely the same navy-blue comforter that Izuku had always hated the feeling of ever since he was old enough to hate the way that things felt, and - holy cow - there was Kacchan.

Sleep torn and shirtless with his wayward spikes all pressed down flat on one side while he lifted a broad hand up to rub his battle-scarred knuckles into one of his blurry eyes. His lips tucked down into a petulant scowl and his eyebrows furrowed in the middle of his forehead the longer that Izuku continued to sit and stare at him with an open mouth as though he had just watched him grow another head.

Kacchan hasn’t tried to explode him yet.

Why hasn’t Kacchan tried to explode him yet?

“The fuck are you lookin’ at me like that for?” Kacchan griped in a moody manner as he reached out for a second time and pushed at his shoulder again, lighter, and with fingers that tried to linger for far too long. Izuku jumped at the unexpected contact and tried to back completely out of his reach, but the bed was much too small, and suddenly he was tumbling off onto the floor with a resounding groan of pain that sounded nothing like his own.

“Oi! Kirishima! The fuck is the matter with you?” Kacchan snapped in clear agitation as he glared over the edge of the bed down at Izuku’s rumpled figure lying in a heap on the floor.

Did he just say Kirishima?

Okay. Something really crazy must have happened last night. Something quirk related. Definitely something quirk related.

Izuku righted himself on the ground before he held up his hands in front of his face and gazed at the strong, muscular vein protruding on his right forearm that was most definitely not his own, and yeah, okay, he was in Kirishima’s body right now. That’s what this was – they had switched bodies. Which meant that Kirishima was probably in Izuku’s room, waking up as him and - aw man - that meant that Kirishima was going to see all of the new posters and action figures that he’d been adding to his collection since the first time when everyone had forced their way into his room and -

HOLY CRAP - Kirishima was sleeping in Kacchan’s room?! Since when??

“Did you wake up feelin’ even more dumb today or what?! If you don’t answer me right fucking now -”

It was the familiar sound of Kacchan’s explosions popping in the center of his palms that finally jarred Izuku back to the present; back to the reality of this very hazardous situation that he seemed to have found himself in. There was no way that he could tell Kacchan who he really was right now. He would kill him. He would murder him in cold blood. He would blast him to death until there was nothing left of him and then he would blast away all of the rest of his pieces just for fun.

Nope. Kacchan could not find out about this. It was just out of the question.

“Sorry!” And okay, his voice did sound a lot like Kirishima’s, that was good. Lower and scratchier with an adolescent edge in the process of dropping a few more octaves before reaching full maturity someday. He could work with that. “I was just having a dream. You startled me… d-dude!”

Kacchan frowned down at him with a suspicious, squinted gaze and Izuku tried to look as innocent as possible as he slowly lumbered back up onto his feet that felt foreign and unsteady under his new weight.

Wow. Izuku was tall. It might have only been a few more centimeters, but the height difference was already astounding. It would have been kind of nice if he had swapped places with someone who happened to be taller than Kacchan, though… oh well.

Speaking of Kacchan, he tracked Izuku’s movements with a laser-light precision while Izuku tried to remember how it was that people normally stood (because he seemed to have forgotten how to) before Kacchan suddenly tch’ed and slumped back down into his pillow with a careless arm thrown up and under his head. He smacked the empty space where Izuku had just been laying with his other free hand and glared expectantly.

“C’m back,” he demanded in a decidedly less than threatening manner.

Wow. This was really weird. Kirishima slept in Kacchan’s bed and Kacchan was okay with it? How often did this happen? How did they even get to this point where it had become so natural for them to share a bed like this? To wake up together like this? When did –

Kacchan’s lip twitched impatiently and he raised his hand up in a slow, dramatic arch as though to catch his eye and make sure that Izuku couldn’t miss how obviously the gesture was being directed at him.

“Eijirou,” Kacchan grunted out, with an incredibly uncomfortable amount of eye contact, and then he smacked the empty space beside him again.

Oh… my god. It was a summons. Izuku could not do that. He could not handle just… getting back into bed with him?! Not when he’d finally managed to escape from it. There had to be an excuse. He had to find an excuse.

“I have to pee –”

“I could not care less,” Kacchan snarked back before his strong fingers gripped bunches of the comforter into a tight hold as though he were physically restraining himself from doing something that Izuku didn’t want to know what it could possibly be.

“I-I’ll just be a minute,” Izuku tried to stumble out as nonchalantly as possible as he took a hurried step in the direction of the bathroom.

A loud creak echoing from the other side of the room halted him dead in his tracks, and he whipped around to spot Kacchan as he rolled up onto his knees in one swift movement and leaned forward, reaching out and grasping the end of the bed with two strong hands and looking ready to leap off the mattress and block Izuku from continuing.

“You really gonna make me chase after you?” Kacchan snorted an amused sort of sound under his breath as his biceps flexed dangerously and he readied himself to pounce.

Oh no. Not chase after. Never ever chase after.

“N-no!” Izuku managed to stammer out, but it was far too late. Kacchan had already made the decision to end him.

Izuku scrambled back as quickly as possible in an attempt to keep some distance between them, but it closed before he even had the chance to register that it was gone and then Kacchan was just there, far too close far too quickly, leaning into his space and wow, Izuku was so uncomfortable right now that he couldn’t even pretend to keep making eye contact anymore as he fidgeted restlessly in his new cornered position.

“You’re bein’ weirder than usual,” Kacchan stated firmly, but he had finally stopped trying to come closer which was all-in-all a very good thing.

“Sorry,” Izuku squeaked out again, clenching and unclenching Kirishima’s hands over and over as he desperately tried to pull himself together. He couldn’t help feeling so incredibly blind-sided by all of this. He had so many questions and no way to ask them – no way to understand, to know.

How long would it take for Kirishima to wake up and try to come and find him? Surely he would understand the significance of how much Izuku was finding out about right now that clearly nobody was ever meant to find out about.

Holy crap, and if Kacchan knew that it was Izuku of all people who had been the first one to find out about it?! To have seen it all unfold up close and personal like this? Oh man, it was all so very bad.

“Stop apologizin’ to me, that’s what’s so fucking weird,” Kacchan grumbled out in the same bitter tone, and Izuku tried not to stiffen when he raised a hand and pressed it into the bookshelf next to his head, leaning his weight onto it and squinting down at him like they might share an extraordinary telepathic moment.

Izuku opened his mouth, ready to apologize again completely on instinct, but any noise that was about to come out got strangled and lodged in his throat when Kacchan’s other hand came up and his thumb promptly hooked under his jaw and clamped his mouth shut before a dangerous palm slid into place and covered his mouth completely. Izuku’s heart started to race in this unfamiliar chest and his eyes widened as he waited with vein-twisting anxiety for Kacchan to blow his entire face away with a single blast.

But… he never did.

“Seriously fucking stop, Kirishima. ’S pissin’ me off,” Kacchan demanded again; stern and final. “There ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, understand?”

Izuku tried to calm his labored breathing as he watched Kacchan watch him back for a long moment, and the fingers around his jaw tightened in an unfamiliar manner before they were suddenly gone again. Kacchan pushed himself away from the bookshelf and started towards the bathroom with a loud, gruff yawn.

“Better fuckin’ hurry up, cause I ain’t savin’ you any hot water for a second shower,” Kacchan warned without looking back as he turned on the light and ducked inside the other room.

Izuku’s entire body jolted back to life at the sound of the water in the shower turning on, and when it finally clicked in his head what that thinly veiled threat entailed, he tore off in the direction of the hallway at top speeds, practically sprinting out of the room and absolutely refusing to look back even when he could hear Kacchan shouting incredulously after him.

He so did not have the mental capacity to even try and unpack any of what he had just gone through. His one and only objective was to find Kirishima and switch their bodies back as soon as possible so that he could go on with the rest of his life and pretend like none of that had ever even happened in the first place.

Yeah… that sounded nice.

For once – Izuku just really, really didn’t want to know any more details.

--- full fic out now ---

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34034215

[cuttoothed]

Getting this in just under the wire for day 1 of @jonmartinweek prompt “Comfy Jumpers”. I get so much joy from writing these two in s1 and thinking “lol you idiots are going to be in love some day.”

*

Martin knows that Jon doesn’t approve of the way he dresses.

It’s not exactly a surprise. Jon doesn’t approve of much about Martin: his report-writing, his Latin translations, even his very existence seems to irk Jon at times. Frankly, the feeling is mutual. Martin was perfectly happy working in the library, where his boss wasn’t an overbearing perfectionist arsehole, and if he’d been given a choice in the matter he’d still be shelving books and updating the filing systems, not getting glared at for his clothing choices. He’s well aware that Jon never wanted him in the Archives either, but they’re here now, so Mister Head Archivist is just going to have to live with it. They’re both going to have to.

Jon isn’t subtle about his displeasure; it’s difficult to miss his pointed scowls at Martin’s scuffed trainers and graphic-print t-shirts. And considering that Sasha wears jeans and t-shirts some days as well—though admittedly she tends to plain colors or muted prints, rather than retro video game characters—it’s pretty clear that it’s less about the clothes than it is the person wearing them.

Well, Jon can scowl all he wants, because everything Martin wears technically falls within the Institute’s dress code and there’s not a word Jon can say to him.

Martin has always run hot, so as winter closes in and other people are bundling up in heavy coats and jumpers, he throws hoodies over his t-shirts and zips them up only far enough that the bright graphic prints are still clearly visible to Jon’s critical eye.

Yeah, he thinks sometimes when he walks into Jon’s office, get an eyeful of Yoshi and see how you like it.

Jon, for his part, seems determined to outlast the winter in his usual dress shirt and tweed jacket combo. Martin knows that Jon isn’t particularly warm blooded—he’s seen the way the man huddles into his jacket like a tortoise in its shell until the central heating warms the basement up in the mornings—but he still refuses to add so much as an argyle sweater vest to his outfit in deference to the season.

The only concession Jon makes to the weather is a voluminous gray overcoat and a dark purple scarf, which he takes off the moment he gets into the office, regardless of how cold it is before the ancient heating system creaks to life.

And, well, it’s none of Martin’s business if his boss is too much of a pompous arse to dress appropriately for the weather. If he wants to freeze his backside off to maintain his academic dignity, far be it from Martin to intervene. Martin doesn’t feel sorry for him, when he sees Jon blowing on his fingers to warm them up, or briskly rubbing his arms while he waits for the kettle to boil and he thinks nobody else is around. Not in the slightest.

It’s below zero on the day in December when the central heating finally gives up the ghost. Even Martin can feel the chill in the Archives this morning, keeps his hoodie zipped up all the way even when he runs into Jon in the kitchenette. Jon looks miserably cold, his shoulders hunched and his movements stiff as he makes his tea.

“Morning, Jon,” Martin says cheerfully. “Bit nippy, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” says Jon sardonically. Somewhere overhead, there’s a metallic clanking as the heating system starts up.

“Finally,” Jon mutters, casting his eyes upward. The pipes creak and clank some more, and there’s an odd whirring sound that Martin’s fairly sure isn’t normal, and then a long, descending groan into silence.

“Oh,” says Martin. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Bloody hell,” says Jon, and storms off to his office. A while later, he sends an email to inform them all that he’s spoken to Elias and the heating is out for the whole building, and that they should all feel free to work from home for the rest of the day if they choose. Sasha and Tim waste no time packing up, but Martin lingers, agonizing over which notes and references he should take with him. He’s never before had a job where working from home was an option, and he isn’t Tim or Sasha, isn’t someone Jon trusts and actually wanted to work with. Martin needs to make sure he gets it right.

At last he thinks he has everything he needs, but still Martin is hesitating, fiddling with the strap of his satchel. Maybe he should just check in with Jon before he leaves, make sure there isn’t anything else he needs to do. Make sure Jon knows I’m going to be working today, not just skiving off.

The door to Jon’s office is standing ajar; Martin taps on it, and pokes his head in without waiting for a response.

Jon looks up as he walks in, his expression startled. He is wearing a jumper. A chunky knit jumper in a warm maroon color, with a Christmas tree and several reindeer on the front. One of the reindeer has a red bobble for a nose. The jumper is oversized, the ends of the sleeves falling past Jon’s wrists.

It’s...incredibly cute, which is not a term that Martin ever expected to associate with his arsehole boss. Attractive, in a severe, unattainable way, sure, but not cute. Yet somehow, here they are.

“Ah, Martin,” Jon says, looking flustered. “I, uh, I thought you’d left with the others?”

“I was—I just wanted to check in with you first, make sure you didn’t need anything. You should head home too, it’s freezing in here.”

“I—I’m perfectly fine.” Jon plucks at the front of the jumper, looking embarrassed. “This is, ah, I bought this for the Institute Christmas party, but it’s surprisingly warm—and quite comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s, uh, that’s not part of your usual wardrobe then?” Martin hazards a chuckle, and to his relief, Jon huffs an amused breath. He raises a hand to adjust his glasses, but his sleeve gets in the way; he pushes both sleeves up to the elbows, and oh no, that’s even cuter.

“No, not—not usually,” he says. Martin frowns, suddenly remembering.

“You didn’t wear it at the party last week, though?”

“No, it’s—it was from the previous year, when I was in Research. It-it didn’t seem appropriate this year, being in a management role. Fortunately I still had it in a box, though I, uh, I didn’t really expect anyone to see me in it.”

Martin feels a sudden pang of something that might be sympathy. He understands how it feels, the desperate pressure to be professional, to be taken seriously, the constant second guessing of what you’re doing, whether you’re giving away something you shouldn’t. It’s hardly the same, of course: Jon’s not likely to be fired for wearing a silly jumper. But...Martin gets it.

“Actually,” he lies, “I, uh, I have to meet with Sophie up in the library later, so I’m around for the day. I was just going to go out and pick up some early lunch. Thought I’d see if you want anything?”

“Oh, ah, where are you going?” Jon asks tentatively, looking surprised at the offer.

“I was thinking of that cafe just around the corner—maybe get some soup and a sandwich?”

“That would be...very nice, actually. If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did,” says Martin, and takes the ten pound note Jon offers him.

“Thank you, Martin,” says Jon, and it’s the probably the most sincere thing Martin’s ever heard him say. He finds himself smiling without meaning to.

“Not a problem.”

It’s too early for lunch, really, but Martin knows Jon never eats breakfast and he missed it himself this morning. He gets two portions of steaming tomato and basil soup and toasted cheese sandwiches from the cafe, and when he gets back, Jon’s found a small space heater to plug in, so his office is marginally warmer than the rest of the Archives. They sit on opposite sides of Jon’s desk to eat, talking about the case that Martin’s working on. It’s the first time Martin’s actually had the chance to properly discuss a case, rather than stumbling through his report while Jon watches expectantly; Jon listens, and asks questions, and even offers some helpful suggestions for Martin’s follow up. It’s...oddly nice.

(Jon also continues to look unreasonably cute in his oversized Christmas jumper, but Martin carefully ignores that.)

The heating gets fixed by early afternoon, and the Archives warm up to the point where Martin can unzip his hoodie. When he drops off his finished case report to Jon’s office, Jon is back in his shirt and jacket, the maroon jumper packed away out of sight. He looks perfectly staid and professional once again. I saw you looking cute, though, Martin thinks, and then tries to pretend he didn’t; he is not going down that route.

Jon glances up when Martin comes in, taking in the “Marvin the Martian” t-shirt that’s now visible beneath his hoodie. Instead of a disapproving scowl, however, he gives a small, hesitant smile.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says as he takes the report, and something flutters warm in Martin’s chest.

Oh no, he thinks.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Kickstart My Heart Pt.1 (Racer! Yeosang)

Next>>

Pairing: Racer! Kang Yeosang × Waitress/Fuckgirl! Reader (Female)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, 80s AU.

Summary: During an era known for its vibrant colors, eccentric fashion styles and rise of new yet unconventional genres of music, the young generation of that time was infamously known for their need to rebel and live their lives rather scandalously and Y/N is no exception. So when a new and attractive man moves into her town, she has her eyes set on making him her next boy toy.

Word Count: 4K+

Warnings: Dumb attempts at crackhead humor, reader is a cold hearted bitch, guy gets dumped in public, reader's friend is lowkey creepy.

█ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █

Throwing on the last article of clothing that had been discarded the night before, the young woman shook out her hair, still damp from the quick shower she just took. Picking up her bag, she looked over at the figure still sleeping soundly, the subtle hint of a smile on his face. With a pitied pout on her lips, she walked over to the edge where his face was. Taking out the lipstick tube from her bag, she applied it all over her lips, painting them in the dark burgundy color that she fancied so much and had practically become her signature hue. Bending over, she pressed her lips against the corners of his mouth, giving him the faintest whisper of a kiss before pulling away. A satisfied smirk was plastered on her pretty features as she stared at the lipstick mark on his face, the only memoir she'd leave him with as she had done with countless others.

Closing the front door behind her, she pulled her denim jacket tighter on her body, shivering slightly from the early dawn's breeze that blew across. It was always like that even though summer had just begun, the early morning hours still feeling obnoxiously cool and then transpiring into slightly uncomfortably warm afternoons that had more than one soul in that quaint town grumbling and fussing about the weather. But oh did the evenings feel absolutely refreshing, and that's when everything would start bustling to life.

Having finally made it out of that small residential area and finding one of the main roads that helped her locate where to go, she started heading south towards the all too familiar diner where she had been working in ever since her school days, first starting part time and eventually transpiring to full time when it came time for her to spread her wings and fly out on her own, a feat she had been most anxious to do to get away from the overly controlling nature of her parents. She knew they cared about her, but she herself cared very little about the morals and principles they had raised her with, a common trait all the young people in that town shared: their rebellious and headstrong nature to not conform and go against everything they had been taught thus far. Live their own lives as freely as they chose to do.

And she definitely lived as she wanted to, even if it ended up with a rather bad reputation and ugly labels that rather than infuriate her, she openly embraced, as others had come to as well.

The light twinkle of the bells above the glass door let the person at the register know someone came in and they immediately plastered on their business smile, which quickly faded when they saw who it was.

"You're late Y/N." The minuscule raven haired waitress informed her, eyes never leaving her coworker's figure that came behind the counter and started punching in her number.

"Only by like 7 minutes." She waved her slip at the nonchalant looking girl before placing it back in its respective slot.

"One day it wouldn't surprise me if you just didn't show up because you got too caught up in.... something else."

Chuckling softly, Y/N walked up behind her coworker, hands coming up to ruffle the cheekbone level bob cut hair framing her unusually small face.

"Awww come on Lynn, you know I'd never leave you hanging here to attend customers by yourself. You're my bestie." Y/N assured her, playfully poking her lips out as she tried to place a kiss on her friend, the poor girl craning her neck away as she tended to dislike physical affection.

"I will squirt ketchup on you." Lynn threatened as she picked up the cherry red bottle as a last resort to get her attacker to back away. A rather noisy struggle ensued between both girls, catching the attention of the owner and cook behind the two doors, prompting her to come out and see what was the cause of such ruckus.

"Well I'll be darned. I don't remember paying you youngsters to simply slack off and behave like the hooligans you are." The middle aged woman spoke up, her thick accent becoming more prominent. Although she had a stern look and hands placed at her hips, the girls knew she was not in reality angry at them.

Looking over at the recently arrived girl, the owner closed her eyes and sighed deeply when she took in the attire she was wearing: low cut white tank, ripped denim shorts that left little to the imagination if she bent down, fishnet tights with a few holes in them, and her beloved denim jacket that was almost always on Y/N's body.

"I swear to god, Y/N , everytime I see you wear them rags you call clothes, I feel like my body is about to collapse. Why must you insist on dressing like a common street worker?"

Y/N wasn't at all offended by her words, having grown used to and becoming fond of her boss's abrupt, direct and honest manner of speaking.

"Gotta start looking the part if I'm going to dedicate my life to the occupation." She giggled at her own joke, resulting in the older woman taking the rag off her apron and smacking her with it.

"This little runt, talking nonsense like that- get your ass back in there and change into your uniform. Can't have you prancing around here in those skimpy clothes and have all these men that come here say disrespectful things about you. Nuh uh, not to my girls." She shook her head.

"Yes Miss Audrey." Complying with the woman's wishes, she pushed open the swing doors leading to the back and quickly made her way to the corner where all the employee's cubicles were located. Grabbing the necessary items, she turned and went inside the bathroom to change into her uniform, consisting of a knee length crimson red dress, which she had actually altered so it would be shorter and display her thighs more, the cap sleeves slightly puffed up and the torso part had a trail of white buttons going all the way up to the modest v-neckline, usually most buttons were left undone so her cleavage would shamelessly peak out. Exchanging her black Doc Martens in favor of her white Nike sneakers, Y/N tied her apron around her waist, making sure it was as tight as possible so it would accentuate her curves and give her body a more flattering appearance. As she made her way out, she quickly piled her hair up before securing it with one of the many elastics she kept around her wrists, leaving out a few tendrils to fall on her temples.

Coming back out to start her daily work, she stood in front of Lynn, who merely spared her an unamused glance.

"How do I look?" Y/N asked.

"Like a total slut." Her friend answered in her usually rude way.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N grabbed a spray bottle and a rag. Making her way over to the table that had just finished being used, she quickly picked up the plates and glass, bringing them back over to where Lynn was, who took them so she could wash them in the sink. Spraying the top of the marble piece, she had began her task of wiping down the table when the ringing of the bell signaled new customers had arrived, and rowdy ones at that too.

"Damn! Is today's special fluffy sponge cake? Cause I would sure love a piece of that ass."

Y/N recognized that annoying voice even from miles away, belonging to none other than one of her old classmates, Jung Wooyoung, whom she considered a friend, if he didn't manage to irk her too much. Turning around, she of course wasn't surprised to see him surrounded by his crew of equally idiotic and adrenaline junkie friends, whom she had to admit were pleasant and fun to hang out with.

"Sit your asses down already, I'll be over in a minute to take your order." She told them before resuming her previous task, earning a scoff from the most dramatic of the group.

"Fine customer service! Don't think you'll be getting a tip from me." His words made her nearly burst into a fit of giggles.

"Wooyoung please, you never ever tip whenever you come. None of you, except Yunho." It kinda saddened her that said male unfortunately wasn't there with them at the moment.

"He doesn't tip you, he tips short stack over there." His friend with cat like eyes pointed towards Lynn, who upon overhearing him held up a rather explicit finger in his direction.

"I'll poison your food San." She threatened with a sing song tone.

"Like I wouldn't know that you already spit on it." San spat back, sticking his tongue out in his immature and infantile fashion.

"Can you guys hurry up and order already? I'm starving and we gotta head to the tracks as early as possible." The fiery red haired male known as Song Mingi blurted out, fingers tapping impatiently against the top of the table.

"If little miss g-string would care to hop her luscious ass over here, maybe we could."

Strutting over to where they sat, Y/N harshly threw the dirty rag on Wooyoung's face, causing a faint grunt to come out of his mouth.

"No matter how many times you mention my ass, I'm still not letting you tap it." She firmly stated, making Wooyoung slightly purse his lips outwards in a disappointed grimace.

"So anygays-" Mingi began.

"Umm I think you mean anyways." San corrected him.

Leaning in towards him, Mingi locked eyes on the shorter male and stared him down with an intimidating glare.

"Did I stutter Choi?"

San immediately shook his head rapidly. With a victory smile, Mingi reclined back in his seat.

"I'm just going to get the breakfast platter with some orange juice."

Y/N couldn't stifle her snort when he said his choice of drink, the other two men looking away in embarrassment.

"You've been drinking orange juice since you were in grade school Mingles, don't you think you outta start taking something more grown up? Like coffee?" San suggested and Mingi did not appreciate it.

"Coming from the one who still brings a plushie to sleep with him, your suggestion holds no value or power." He retorted.

"OK SHIBER IS NOT A PLUSHIE, HE'S FAMILY YOU JACKASS!" San sprinted up from his seat, nearly leaning across to grab Mingi by the color, but he was held back by Wooyoung.

Lynn, who had thus far stayed quiet, promptly came up with a spray bottle and consequently doused the untamed boy on his face.

"Bad kitty, bad kitty." She reprimanded him, unable to resist the opportunity to attack her long time frenemy.

"Lynn!" Y/N looked at her with surprise.

"You're welcome." Lynn replied rather monotone before going back to her place behind the counter like she didn't just spray San with disinfecting water.

"There's too many germs going around anyways..." She muttered under her breath.

Without any further interruptions, aside from the rumbling coming out of the boys' stomachs, they finished ordering what they wanted and Y/N sent it over so they could be prepared. Not wanting to be near their loud asses, Y/N went back over to where Lynn was, peeking over to see what she was currently reading in the magazine she held.

"What you reading?" She casually inquired.

"Horoscope section." Y/N wasn't surprised, her friend tended to be into more mystical, eccentric and rather.....extreme with her taste in fashion and music. If Y/N was the one who turned heads for her scandalous attire, Lynn was the one people turned away from in fear when they saw how she dressed. It was a sight that truly made both of them laugh at people's foolishness, well at least made Y/N laugh. Her friend rarely had any other expression plastered on that wasn't utter disdain for society and life.

Unexpectedly, another customer came in. Both girls looked at each other in confusion when neither of them recognized him. Their town was rather small with few people living there, so they deduced that he must be a traveler who probably got lost on his route. He himself looked around nervously, eyes barely lifting up. Y/N couldn't help herself as she took in his perfect face. Big, round eyes with crystal clear orbs, small face with a V-line jaw, perfectly sculpted nose with no sign of defects, skin smooth and blemish free, he looked like a prince out of a fairytale. He was incredibly pretty, yet stood there so awkwardly that it was almost comical.

"Hey Yeosang! You made it! Sit down! I ordered for you in advanced!" Wooyoung surprised both girls when it seemed he knew the stranger and even waved him over to where they sat. The other two boys also seem familiarized with him and welcomed him to sit with them, chatting up a storm already with him.

"Who's that?" Lynn was the one to finally ask out loud.

"Beats me.....but he sure is adorable."

Noticing the way her lips curled upwards, Lynn could already see the wheels inside Y/N's head turning.

"And I bet you're going to go over there and find out- aaand there you go." She ended up answering her own deduction as she watched Y/N happily walked over with a more bright expression on her face, that soon soured when her boss came out of the kitchen and beat her over to the table, laying down several plates of food.

"I knew as soon as I saw the orders that it had to be the lot of you." She scoffed softly as she looked at the boys' grinning faces.

"You know us Miss Audrey, we wouldn't ever think of eating anywhere else but here. You're the best cook in all of town." Wooyoung praised her with a sparkling charm that could have fooled anyone else but not the robust woman in front of him.

"Boy stop trying to tickle my ears, I've known you since you were in your soiled diapers being carried around by your mama, running around and creating chaos anywhere you went. Flattery may work on them poor girls you play with but me? I can see right through ruffians like you."

Turning her head to finally notice the new addition to the group, she looked him up and down.

"Boy who might you be?" She questioned him, earning the ears of the girls nearby to listen in for any valuable information.

"I'm..... Yeosang Kang, nice to meet you." He introduced himself, tilting his head slightly down when he said that.

"He just moved into town this week! He's the new guy who is going to work with us down at the car shop and help on the race track!" San enthusiastically shouted, making the older woman cringe.

"I may be old, but I still haven't gone deaf for you to yell in such a way boy. So...." She crossed her arms and looked at Yeosang again.

"You a racer too?"

Now the girls, particularly Y/N, were more interested in what his response would be.

"I- yes. So it seems." The poor boy looked so flustered, obviously being more of a soft spoken individual, contrasting starkly to the other 3 boys.

Miss Audrey let out a seemingly displeased hum at his answer.

"As if we needed anymore hooligans running wild. We already got enough with the 3 Stooges over here."

The girls couldn't help but snicker at their boss's words, always having a blast whenever she put the boys back in their place. They however looked displeased, glaring at them intensely.

"Shouldn't you both be off somewhere cleaning dishes or making sandwiches?"

Snatching one of the knifes, Lynn held it up and was about to jump over, but Y/N came up in front of her.

"Lynn, no. Just calm down ok? You know they're just being idiots." Y/N reminded her.

Grumbling something in a foreign language no one knew for sure if it was real or not, Lynn put the knife back, squinting her eyes at them before turning around to not look at them again. Y/N giggled softly, finding it absolutely cute whenever her friend lost her cool and collected form cause it reminded her of a chihuahua, barking and yelping at anything larger than itself trying to establish dominance.

Noticing that in her display of aggression, Lynn had inadvertently knocked over a few of the brochures that were on display for people to take, Y/N stooped down and proceeded to pick them up in a casual manner. Standing up, she neatly arranged them properly, making sure they all faced the same direction and the sides weren't poking out anywhere. Feeling as though someone had been watching her all along, she looked at the table of boys, half expecting Wooyoung's smug grin to greet her, but she was completely wrong as it was none other than the new guy who seemed unable to keep his eyes off her figure, staring intently at the length of her skirt. When he realized she noticed, his eyes went wide, cheeks burning up with utter embarrassment. Y/N however seemed unbothered by this. Wanting to test something, she pretended to accidentally drop one of the pamphlets. Bending over, she made sure he could get a perfect glimpse of her cleavage, if he payed enough attention, he'd be able to see that she was in fact, not wearing any bra. Coming back up, Y/N looked over to see the results, smirking when the agape mouth of Yeosang confirmed to her that he had indeed noticed everything.

"Oh sweetheart, you're gonna be too easy..." She had already made up in her mind that Yeosang would be her next target, and she had to put her plan in action. Placing the brochures down, she was about to go over and start flirting with him, until a familiar voice called for her.

"Y/N! There you are!"

She internally groaned when she heard him, wondering why on earth did he not get the hint of ditching him like that, especially when he very well knew about the reputation she had. She tried ignoring him, but of course, he had had to be the persistent type, no doubt thinking he was going to have a different ending than the rest before him.

"I thought you'd be here. You could have told me you were going to be gone early. I would have made you breakfast."

Knowing she had to say something, Y/N grabbed her pad and gave him the fakest smile she was capable of donning.

"Hi, what can we get started for you today? Waffles? Eggs and bacon? Coffee to start off with?"

The trio of friends, having no choice but to witness the interaction due to it happening right in front of them, snickered amongst themselves.

"Oh shit. He's in for it." San whispered lowly.

The boy obviously looked extremely confused, his smile lightly falling off, but then returning to its hopeful state.

"Why are you acting like this candy bear? Pretending like you don't know me?" When he tried to reach a hand to pull her close, the girl simply pushed him away with one of her fingers.

"Look, clearly you're too stupid to understand so let me spell it out in a language you can understand." Letting out a tired sigh, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, a sour look displaying on her pretty face.

"We had a nice time together, and last night was... average to put it nicely."

"Oh man. That was a total burn." Mingi couldn't help but snort, some of the orange juice being spit back into his glass.

"But that was all it was and all it's ever going to be. So why don't you do yourself a favor and just go back home to your Star Trek figurines and watch the latest episode of Thunder Cats?"

The not so discreet snickering coming from the table behind them only made the humiliation for the man multiply significantly. Turning red with utter despair and rage, he quickly brushed past Y/N rather brusquely.

"Fucking bitch." She heard him mutter under his breath, a phrase she had grown accustomed to hearing among many others.

"Oh god. Homegirl struck again." Wooyoung laughed, swirling his milkshake in his hand.

"Ayo why you gotta do Thunder Cats like that? It's actually pretty entertaining." San commented.

Looking over at the time, the guys quickly stood up, dropping their share of bills onto the table.

"You guys get paid today too right? Come meet up with us at the track." Wooyoung suggested.

"Why on earth would we want to go see your greasy, oil smelling ass after dealing for nearly an hour with you already?" Lynn questioned him, eyes never peering up from her magazine.

"Because Yunho would be there?"

Still she didn't respond, the only movement made was her finger turning the page.

"Bro we been knew she don't give two shits about him." Mingi reminded them.

"Because we're going to the drive in theater after work, they're playing a horror movie."

Lifting her gaze, Lynn closed the magazine, although still stone faced, her eyes seemed to brighten up.

"My interest has been greatly piqued." Her lips showed the faintest whisper of a smile that gave a rather eerie and chilling feel down the people's spines.

"Maybe we should rethink inviting Satan's offspring." San leaned in towards Mingi, shivering significantly.

"Great! So we'll catch you gals later."

The boys quickly dispersed themselves, save Yeosang who still sat quietly, keeping mostly to himself. His fingers fidgeted with the half drunk cup he was holding, gaze fixed on the table in front of him. Looking up, he was attempting to work up the courage to talk to Y/N, but before he could even get the chance to gather strength, the owner came out from the back, whispering a few orders to her and gesturing for her to go tend to a situation in the kitchen. With a defeated sigh, he got up to go join the rest of the gang outside who were waiting for him. Slumping his hands in the pockets of his pants, he moved out of the booth with a solemn gaze.

"Hey."

His steps came to a screeching halt when he heard Y/N call out to him. Looking over, she smiled sweetly in his direction.

"Hope I see you later." With a flirtatious wink, she bid him goodbye as she disappeared into the back.

Yeosang stood there stunned momentarily, replaying her words over and over again in his mind, pondering endlessly at their meaning.

"Little pussy cat sure got you brain dead, didn't she?"

Startled by the unexpected voice next to him, he jumped when the face of the kind yet stern old lady studied him carefully. With a disapproving shake of her head, she decided it'd be best to warn him before he started getting ideas in his head.

"Listen, you seem like a sweet and sensible young man, so it's best for you to listen to me and stay away from that darn girl. Don't let them sugar coated lips of hers sweet talk themselves into your heart. You'll just end up heart broken like all the lovers she's had."

Picking up some of the plates, she gave him one last look, pointing an accusatory finger at him to get her point across.

"She's dangerous." Finally saying what she needed to say, Miss Audrey headed back with plates in her arms, slapping away Lynn's hands when they attempted to pry them off her, barking instructions at her to watch the counter and leave her be.

"Dangerous....." Yeosang thought to himself, the warning the good intended woman gave him sinking deep in his mind. Although he took her words to heart, something about the way she glanced at him pulled at the strings in his chest, taking his breath away when he remembered the risque position she was in that purposely allowed him to view more than he should have. That memory tinted his cheeks pink, lips unable to suppress a small smile. He knew that he should heed the old woman's advice.

But he had to admit that he loved danger and the thrill it came with.........

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[savini-squad]

If You See Her, Say Hello

Tried to link the fic from ao3 but it didn’t work so I’m just going to paste the rest of it beneath the cut. Written for one of @alphabetchallenge‘s weekly prompts, “linger”. Go check it out! And thanks to @frye7 for the beta.

From the moment the jar shatters, Gabe knows something is wrong. “Hey, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” He crouches beside her to pick up the shards of glass. Kinsey’s hands shake beside his. And when he rests a hand on her back, half to brace himself and half to comfort her, she sways unsteadily in her haste to pull away from him.

“No it’s okay, I got it,” she says breathlessly.

“You got it?” he repeats, dubious. She doesn’t meet his eyes as she stands up.

“Yeah. I guess I’m still a little off.”

Gabe resists the urge to narrow his eyes in suspicion. He casts his mind around for something to talk about. “So, um…is Duncan doing any better? You never texted me.”

She stiffens. “Oh, there’s nothing new to report.” The words sound stilted, like they’ve been practiced: cured wood hollow on the inside. He starts to nod and offer some words of support, but she continues, unobservant, determined. “I only saw him for a second before I left this morning, but…he didn’t seem to be in great shape.”

She bites her lip, that tell that means she’s lying, the one she thinks he hasn’t figured out yet. The hair on the back of Gabe’s neck rises. Something isn’t right here. “Maybe it’s just going to take some time,” he murmurs, trying to make it into nothing. There’s a whisper in the back of his head that urges him to push harder, to lure the truth out, but he ignores it. He’s gotten better at ignoring it, since Kinsey.

When he reaches out to touch her arm, she draws back. It’s a small movement, and if he hadn’t spent the last six months watching her, he wouldn’t have noticed. Now, he just shifts back. As he moves, the tension in her shoulders loosens. Gabe doesn’t think she’s even aware of it.

“So what are you doing today?” Kinsey retreats to the opposite side of the tent, thinking she’s being subtle. “Did you volunteer to work a booth?”

“Nah, I actually thought I would just come and keep you company.” In the mirror, he watches her shoulders heave. Turns around to face her before she can catch him staring. “That okay?”

Kinsey blinks slowly, mouth falling open before she catches herself. She looks like she’s thinking about it, like she has her mind made up, and then she shrugs in carefully affected agreement. Gabe’s been through that before, has traced the steps of the dance she’s learning in front of him, stumbles and all. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” She tries to smile, but it falls flat. Gabe doesn’t call her on it.

“Thanks.” His eyes flick over a book of available patterns that’s resting on a nearby table. Maybe doing something normal, something mundane, will calm her down. “Is there an age limit on the face painting?”

Kinsey says nothing, eyes and smile full of nerves as she shakes her head. It’s a jerky movement. Gabe represses the frown that nearly shows on his face. “I don’t know how I feel about these butterflies though. I kinda want something that’ll make me look hard, you know? Maybe like a neck tat or something?” This is where she usually laughs, her hair fluttering over her shoulder. But here she stays silent, nearly perfectly still.

He lowers himself into the chair in front of her. He’s below her now; she should feel more comfortable. Except Kinsey’s still not meeting his eyes, her gaze stuck on something across the room. “I think I can make that happen,” she says, and she sounds almost normal. Almost.

The images on the page glisten and blur, an overwhelming whirl of color. He can't focus; his mind is racing. Gabe picks the first one he sees. “How ‘bout this little lobster claw in honor of my boy Nephropida?” He says it with a grin stuck behind his teeth, but when his hand reaches out to mime a claw, Kinsey jumps. And again, her hands are shaking.

She jerks away from him, her breath a cloud in the air. Gabe doesn’t let his smile falter, but inside his thoughts are churning furiously. She’s afraid of him; seriously, instinctively afraid of him. She won’t put her back to him. She lied about Duncan being better.

She lied about Duncan being better.

Oh. Shit.

Gabe barely remembers to breathe, his body doing the work for him while his mind tumbles over itself. She knows. If she knows, the rest of the family knows. Bode, Tyler, Duncan. Probably Erin too.

And just when he was getting used to being around them too.

Kinsey’s still shaking as she lowers her knees to the cold ground and grips the tattoo in one hand. Gabe forces his gaze not to catch on the motion. “This’ll only hurt a little.”

Oh, he doubts that. He’s already being torn apart by it, and judging by the cracks in her composure, so is Kinsey. But something inside him wants to cling to this one last piece of pretend. So he grins and says “I’ll be brave.”

It earns him a chuckle, but he knows it isn’t real. The distance between them aches, even if the ignorance was only ever one-sided. Sometimes, if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself they were different people, in a different time and place. But those times passed long ago, if they ever existed, and those places have long been darkened and abandoned. So he relishes the feeling of her fingers on his neck and tries not to think about the fact that, sooner rather than later, this will all be in the past.

As Kinsey works on the temporary tattoo, she gradually relaxes. Her hands stop shaking and her breath evens out, but Gabe doesn’t allow himself to hope that she’s been reassured. The human body, he’s learned, can only exist in a state of anxiety for so long before it’s forced to crash. It was inevitable that she would calm down; he doesn’t take it as a personal victory.

“So how’s it look?” he asks as she rises from her position by his side.

“It’s some of my best work yet.” Kinsey sounds steadier now. She’s stopped jumping at shadows, at least. Not that Gabe exactly blames her.

“Yeah?” He laughs. “Thanks for taking the time to do it.”

She blinks, shrugs. “I mean…it’s sorta my job.” It’s said with a bit of a chuckle, embarrassed, just an edge of discomfort.

Gabe drums his fingers on the arm of the chair, tilting his head back to look at her. He catches her eye, just for a moment, before she looks away. “I don’t—don’t want it to be just a job. Do you know what I mean?”

Kinsey swallows, hard. She looks like her mind is racing, like she can’t quite wrap her head around what she’s hearing. Which is probably true, if she’s thinking that he has some devious angle he’s trying to work. “I…yeah, I know what you mean.”

A beat. Gabe turns his head to face the cold and give her a moment to herself. He hears Kinsey shuffle some art supplies around; the movement doesn’t quite cover up the sound of her shaky breath. “Did you and Scot ever get your thing figured out?”

“What?” Her response sounds a little tight, surprised.

He turns back to her, projecting comforting nonchalance. “You and Scot. You didn’t tell me how all that panned out.”

“Oh. Um, no. We’re good. It was just a misunderstanding, you know?” She’s trying to look at him, like nothing is wrong, but she can’t quite manage it. Something happened there, too, but he doesn’t push it. It’s not the time now, not with Eden roaming the festival, angry and itching for violence. And with everything ending soon, it’ll be good for her to have someone. Even if it’s not him.

So he smiles, affecting complacent innocence with the practiced ease of someone who’s had to do so for months. It only turns his stomach a little to think of why. “That’s good! Do you think he’ll be able to help with Duncan?”

He feels like he has to know, has to make sure someone will be there for her, has to reassure himself that it’s okay for him to tell her everything, to allow this to splinter apart.

“Duncan?” The question’s caught her off-guard. “Yeah. Or, well, it’s more of a family thing so probably not? But. I know he would.”

So Scot knows. Good. Gabe always thought it was a bit dangerous for the siblings to keep any information closed off among the three of them. It cuts off possible allies. Of course, he used to have a starkly different reason for holding that position, but he doesn’t let himself think about that. Much.

Instead, another smile. “Good.” And then, because it would be strange if he didn’t at least offer: “I can help too, if you need.”

Immediately, Kinsey shuts down. Any goodwill he may have accrued quickly drains away, running dry right in front of his eyes. “Right. Thanks. It’s really more of a family thing, though.”

He runs through options in his head, flipping through two or three or half a dozen responses, then stands up. In the moment, she might take it as a threat, as another lie, but later, maybe…later she might see it for what it is. He takes a step towards her, then two, stopping before her body gets too tense with fear she doesn’t yet know how to conceal. “Kins, I know that this isn’t easy. Okay, I know that it’s not my place to say so, but…I’m always going to be here for you. No matter what happens. I just want you to know that.” He forces his eyes to meet hers, too much truth slipping through, more than is safe.

Something flickers across her face, shock and confusion and, maybe, a twitch of unexpected reassurance. “Thanks.”

A family walks toward their tent, exclaiming excitedly about face painting. Kinsey turns to them, relief at the interruption obvious in the set of her shoulders. “I gotta get to work. See you later?”

He should go. She's clearly stressed out by him being here. But he can't bring himself to put that distance between them when there will soon be such a gulf between them. And with Eden roaming out there…it's safer for her if he stays, really. If only she knew that. “Why don’t I stick around? Help you out.”

She bites her lip again. "Sure, that'd be great."

"Cool, thanks," Gabe says, smile as welcoming and non-threatening as he can make it.

She turns from him, focusing on the two siblings in front of her, a pleasant expression already fixed firmly and convincingly on her face. She's quite a skilled liar, all in all. He almost admires her for it, though he'll never be able to tell her so.

Kinsey is painting whiskers on a little girl’s face, and Gabe stands to the side, hands in his pockets. He knows he should leave. He doesn’t want to. “Hey, do you wanna...hang out? Y’know, when this is all done?” This isn’t the right place to tell her, but maybe later, when they’re alone…maybe they can be honest with each other. Maybe she’ll listen to him.

“Uh...let me check in at home.” The evasion doesn’t quite have the smooth deflection that it should. The thought drifts by unbidden: she’s lucky he’s on her side. He doesn’t really want to imagine how he might’ve reacted to this deception a year ago.

As Kinsey turns back to the kid, Gabe’s phone dings. It’s Eden, and she’s figured out that Kinsey was lying. Because Duncan is here. At the festival. This night is just getting better and better.

He tries not to choke on his own sarcasm.

He can’t leave Eden alone, not when she’s just found this out. She’s going to do something drastic, something stupid, something that will ruin everything he’s worked so hard for. “Kinsey?” he asks, soft.

“Yeah?” she responds, half turning to him.

“I have to go.”

She doesn’t really look at him. “Okay.”

He ignores the burning in his chest. “Kinsey,” he tries again.

This time she looks up. She freezes when she sees the expression on his face, pained and regretful. He leans close, shifts just enough to embrace her. After a moment, she reciprocates. He settles his mouth against her ear and speaks in a low whisper. “Eden knows. Get Tyler and Bode and everyone and get out. Duncan’s here. She’s going to go after him. I’m going to try to cut her off.”

Kinsey pulls back, a gasp pushing from her lungs as she retreats. Her eyes are wide, breath shallow. If he had time, Gabe would talk her down from the panic attack she’s nearing. But he doesn’t.

He grips her by the shoulders, tight. “Do you understand?”

She shakes her head, just barely. She looks more uncertain than she ever has before. “I—”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and he watches as realization finally begins to settle across her face.

“No,” she says, quiet. A whimper that dies in the air.

“I am. I’m sorry. For what I’ve done. If I could take it back…” he meets her eyes and is surprised to find tears in them. Even more so when he reaches up to wipe them away and she doesn’t rear back. She doesn’t lean in, but it’s more than he thought he’d get. More than he deserves.

He closes his eyes for half a second. It’s all the time he has left. “Remember what I said. Find your brothers and your friends. Get them out. Do whatever you have to.”

He doesn’t have any time left. And still, and still, he stays. He looks into her eyes one last time. “I love you.”

A single tear rolls down her cheek. Kinsey lifts a hand, not towards her own face but towards his. He starts as her fingers brush beneath his eye. He didn’t realize he was crying. “I have to go,” he murmurs again.

Neither of them move. And then, and then, Gabe’s phone buzzes. He knows without looking that it’s Eden. They’ve run out of chances. Always, always with them. Out of time, always.

Kinsey releases him. She shuffles one foot away, then two, then three. She’s still looking at him. There’s a tear almost frozen on her lashes. “I have to go,” she parrots. Coming from her the words are torn, ripped in half. He wonders if he sounded the same way.

He nods. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. Gabe takes one step, and then another, and then another, until he’s out of the tent and standing in the snow. He shivers. Kinsey, still under the tent, raises a hand in a half-wave. Gabe can’t bring himself to reciprocate. But as he turns to face the weather, to face Eden, the warmth of Kinsey’s fingers still lingers on his cheek.