#is this gonna stop me from marathonning more x files after work? probably not

[six-of-ravens]

good thing my boss is in a good mood today bc i slept horribly and I need the Eye of Sauron to not be on me

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Sleep Is For The Weak-- Malcolm Bright x Reader

Prompts; “If you’re staring at me like that, I can only assume I did something unintentionally embarrassing.” // “Why do I watch scary things late at night? I’ve doomed myself doing this.” (from the lovely @witterprompts)

Warnings; tiniest bit of swearing, but that’s about it

Word Count; 1.6k

    Malcolm sat on his couch with a warm mug of tea in his hands. His eyes quickly bounced back and forth between the papers and pictures scattered across his coffee table. The recent case had been confusing. Many twists and turns made it difficult for him to pin an exact identification on the murderer, unlike what he had done with many in the past. This criminal, however, didn’t match any of his usual profiles. Each murder was different. There were no connections. It was driving him insane. 

    The detective practically leapt at his phone when it buzzed, desperately hoping it was a member of the team informing him with a new piece of the increasingly difficult puzzle they were all trying to solve. His brows furrowed when he read your name on the screen.

(Y/N) 3:15AM: sup bitch

     Malcolm rolled his eyes and tossed his phone back to the opposite end of the couch. He was rereading the case file for the millionth time when his phone buzzed again. 

(Y/N) 3:18AM: I know you’re awake, and it’s rude to ignore people ya know

     He sighed, turning his phone on silent. Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to clear his mind. You had known Malcolm since childhood, and you were with him through thick and thin. But he had guidelines on personal relationships, not allowing himself to get close to anyone. You understood. The man had been through hell and back, and you usually gave him the space he needed. You were used to not hearing from him for weeks on end, especially when he was working on a case. Tonight, though? That’s a different story. 

    Malcolm tensed when he heard another tink! come from the opposite end of his apartment. The noise had relentlessly interrupted his train of thought for the past ten minutes, and he was growing tired of it. He pushed himself away from the couch, carefully listening for the source of the sound. Malcolm frowned as he crept his way into his bedroom. The sound was caused by something repetitively hitting the large window. His brows knitted together. 

     Were those... coins? He stepped closer to the glass, peering down to the sidewalk below. Your face lit up when you realized that your plan had worked. Waving your arms around, you could practically feel the daggers Malcolm was glaring at you with. He disappeared from the window, and you scurried over to the door. 

    You wasted no time when he snatched the door open, bounding up the stairs and into his apartment. “Are you out of your mind? How long have you been standing out there?” Malcolm called after you. After trudging up the stairs and making sure the door was locked, he found you already rummaging through his pantry. You froze like a deer in headlights and flashed him a sheepish smile. “Bottom cabinet to the left of the stove,” he answered your unspoken question.

     “Ah! So, you did some reorganizing?” you teased. Pulling open the cabinet, you couldn’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart when you realized that he had dedicated a little place for all of the snacks you had left with him. You grabbed the box of hot chocolate mix and set to work. “To answer your questions... Yes, and I think about thirty minutes? Don’t know, my phone died after about fifteen minutes of trying to get you to answer. Then I just stood there for a while. I think people assumed I was homeless or something because they started giving me loose change, which I used to get your attention.” Malcolm raised a brow. He was obviously biting back a wise-ass comment. “Go ahead, let me have it,” you sighed. A light laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head. Malcolm crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter.

     “No, it’s nothing... I was just going to point out that it’s a likely assumption, considering you’re in your pajamas and look like you were attacked by a flock of pigeons-- again-- though, without the feathers.” You gasped, punching his shoulder.

     “Those things are little demons, and you know it!” His head tilted back with laughter, and your annoyance disappeared at the sight. Malcom caught your gaze. You quickly looked away, returning your attention to the hot chocolate. He hummed, and a playful grin crossed his features.

     “If you’re staring at me like that, I can only assume I did something unintentionally embarrassing.” You scoffed. Pushing a mug of hot chocolate into his hands, you took a sip of your own.

     “No, it’s just...” You paused, shaking your head. “It makes me happy when you’re happy.” Awkward tension filled the room as you avoided his gaze. Malcolm bit the inside of his cheek, unsure of how to respond. He sucked in a breath and took a few steps toward the living room, motioning you to follow.

     “So, tell me, what are you doing out this late?” Your shoulders relaxed at the subject change. You plopped on the couch, snickering as he shot you a warning glare. You knew very well how expensive everything in his apartment was, and you would never do anything to mess something up... but you liked to tread along the thin ice just to elicit a reaction out of him. ‘I really should be more careful. I don’t think he’s noticed the wine stain on the corner of his Neiman Marcus blanket. I mean, it’s not that bad. Just a small little splotch..” You blinked rapidly, dismissing the thoughts. Malcolm raised a brow but didn’t mention it. You took another sip of your hot chocolate.

     “I had a Freddy Krueger marathon. Watched all eight movies. I mean, why do I watch scary things late at night? I’ve doomed myself doing this,” you groaned, rubbing your face. “Won’t be able to sleep for a week.” Malcolm snorted.

     “If I remember correctly, you always claimed that ‘sleep is for the weak.’”

     “And I am very, very weak,” you muttered, loudly sipping your drink to aggravate Malcolm. He rolled his eyes at your antics. You asked how the case was coming along, occasionally nodding as Malcolm ranted about it. You scooted toward the edge of the couch and peered at the photographs. You grimaced at the gore before knitting your brows together. You were beyond confused. They seemed... oddly familiar. A few moments passed before you started laughing. You gave Malcolm an incredulous look. “Ok, seriously, how did you know?” It was his turn to look confused. You rolled your eyes. “How did you know that I had watched Nightmare on Elm Street before I came over here?” When he didn’t reply, you leaned back into the couch with a groan. “Come on, Malcolm! I caught your prank. Admit it already. These pictures aren’t from your case, they’re from the movie.” Malcolm’s face paled as a dozen emotions flashed across his features. He grabbed your wrist, urgency running rampant in his wide eyes. 

     “Tell me what you mean. Now.” Your jaw slacked, but you quickly nodded and set your hot chocolate aside. The playful atmosphere quickly gave way to dread. You had him arrange them in order of who had been killed first. Your stomach sank as he rearranged them, not wanting your silly theory to turn into reality. When he gave you a nod, you cleared your throat and pointed at each one as you spoke.

     “Everyone highly resembles the characters from the movie. She looks Tina, who was killed by Freddy slashing her with his knife-glove-thing. He looks like Rod, who was hung by Freddy. He looks like Glen. Glen got killed because Freddy flung him up in a fountain of blood? I don’t know. It was weird.” You paused, brows knitting together. You had Malcolm unlock his phone since yours was dead, and you began Googling a picture. “This was the last victim of the movie, Marge Thompson. She got smothered after Freddy was set on fire.” Malcolm snatched his phone from you, jumping to his feet. He paced through the living room. Everything was falling into place, and he was finally able to set a profile. He suddenly stopped pacing and laughed. It wasn’t out of humor, but out of victory. Malcolm looked to you with a bright smile, pulling you up from the couch.

     “You’re a genius!” He pulled you into a hug, and you couldn’t help the laugh that was bubbling in your chest. You were about to make a quip about him saying you were out of your mind earlier that night but got interrupted before you had the chance. Malcolm had broken the embrace, only to press his lips to yours. You hardly registered it was happening before you melted into his touch. He pulled away and held his breath, eyes searching your face. You smiled and cupped his cheek.

     “As much as I’d love for this moment to last longer, I think you should probably call Gil before somebody gets fired-- literally.” Malcolm’s eyes widened as he nodded. He grabbed his phone on his way towards the door. He paused, standing in the doorway. 

     “Will you be here when I get back?” A smirk quirked the corner of your lips.

     “Where else am I gonna go? My phone’s dead, so I can’t exactly call an Uber.” Malcolm snorted, shaking his head. He glanced at you from over his shoulder. Your gaze softened. You had known Malcolm long enough to read his expressions. He wasn’t just nervous about getting rejected. He was afraid that he might be loosing your friendship because of your actions, and he had already lost enough in his lifetime. “I’ll be here.” You caught Malcolm’s face brightening before he disappeared down the stairs. 

~*~*~

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[coffee-n-some-cream]

Raph hadn’t been in New York City for six years. He had been living amongst the plains of an Ohio ranch since he was fifteen years old, surrounded by nothing but open space and still feeling trapped. The minute he was old enough and had enough money, he shoved everything he needed into one compact suitcase, hugged his dad and brothers goodbye, promised to call, then hopped on his bike and made the drive to his shabby little Brooklyn apartment.

Something about NYC sang in tune with Raph. When his dad had moved them out to Ohio, an attempt to give them a better life away from rising crime rates and troublesome biological families, Raph had felt like an uprooted tree. Ripped from where he was meant to be, transplanted in new soil that was never quite right. Always just a little malcontent. But here, back where he had been born and raised, something clicked into place.

And nothing was quite as ‘New York City’ as this guy named Casey Jones. In the mornings, Casey worked at a roller-skating rink, corralling sugar-high children and sneaking his little sister’s friends in through the back. At night, Casey hung out on fire escapes with a hockey stick strapped to his back, waiting for muggers to come along and do something stupid. Sometimes, after a good beatdown, he would grab a few beers. The first time Raph met him, they were on opposite sides of the bar at Merry Dog Pub. The guy’s skin was peppered with bruises, his nose was broken, he was yelling everything he said, and he was very, very drunk. Raph was closing down the joint, telling him over and over again, “We’re closing, dude, go home.”

Casey ended up sleeping on Raph’s couch that night. It was a difficult thing to maneuver, that was for sure, but Raph had things under control. He managed to sit him upright on his bike and tie his wrists together around his waist so he wouldn’t fall off, then he practically carried him up the stairs to his apartment. By the time he had a pillow under his head and a blanket over his body, the guy was asleep. Raph took that opportunity to treat some of the worst cuts on his face, but that nose was busted for good.

By the time Casey woke up the next morning, Raph was making breakfast in the kitchen.

“Hello?” Casey called, and Raph leaned out of the kitchen to look at him.

“Hey,” he said.

He got a squint in return. “Wait, aren’t you that… bartender?”

“Yep. How’s your face?”

The guy groaned. “Bad. Very bad.” He touched one hand to his face, winced, then touched it more. “Dude, did I go to the hospital last night?”

“Nope. I fixed you up last night after you passed out.” Raph returned to his scrambled eggs and guided them onto a couple plates with toast. He certainly didn’t owe the guy breakfast, but his dad had raised him to be polite, and if this random dude wasn’t a total liar (which he probably was), he had gotten all those bruises from taking on some gangbangers last night. Which was something Raph could get behind. He flicked off the stove, grabbed the plates, and walked over to the couch. The guy eyed the breakfast plate that Raph held out to him for a moment before taking it and shoving the toast in his mouth. “You don’t remember anything, do you?”

He paused and scrunched up his face. Then he looked at Raph. “Wait, did we fuck?”

Raph scoffed. “No. You were drunk off your ass. You wouldn’t leave or tell me your address. I was tired, so I just took you back with me.”

“I’ve been drunk at closing time in that pub before. Vinny just shoved me outside and closed up. Woke up on a park bench.”

“Well, you’re lucky it was me on shift and not Vinny.”

“Huh.” Casey finished his toast and started shoveling the eggs in. “That’s cool of you. Band-aids and breakfast and all that. You sure we didn’t fuck?”

“Yeah.” Raph pointed at him with a piece of half-eaten toast. “And you can repay me for all that by never getting drunk in my pub again.”

Casey shrugged. “No promises, nice bartender dude.”

“I’m not nice.”

“I’m Casey Jones, by the way.”

Raph shook his head. “Raph.”

  Casey decided to do the exact opposite of what Raph asked – he showed up at the bar every other night after crashing on Raph’s couch. Sometimes to grab a drink and chat, sometimes to ask for a bit of medical attention “whenever your shift ends, no hurry, I’m just bleeding out over here,” and sometimes these visits ended with Casey getting a little too tipsy to get himself home and him staying the night at Raph’s place. Because every time he did, it was super late and Raph didn’t want to drive him all the way to the edge of the Bronx where the guy lived.

At some point, Casey collapsed into Raph’s bed instead of his couch. Then he kept doing it, sometimes when he wasn’t even drunk. The first time, Raph’s instinct was to literally kick him off the bed, but then Casey crawled back up and they made out, so he let him stay. And Raph kept making breakfast for them every morning. And on the nights when Casey didn’t stop by for a drink, he showed up at the end of Raph’s shift to accompany him home. They started hanging out on their days off. They started watching TV together. Casey would ask him if he wanted to check out a new pizza joint down the street. One evening before work, Casey asked him to help him out in a synch and pick up his little sister from school. Then he met his dad at the 4th of July fireworks. And they both liked him.

Summer in Brooklyn turned to Autumn in Brooklyn, five months passing by in a blur of bartending shifts and late nights spent with Casey Jones. Then, one evening, Leo called.

“So what’re you doing right now, anyway?”

Raph glanced into the kitchen where Casey was microwaving popcorn for their paused X-files marathon. He had promised to spend the night in after showing up the day before with a particularly gut-wrenching bullet graze on his ribs. “Nothing, just watching TV. Jones is here right now, too.”

“Hm. You’ve been hanging out with Mr. Jones a lot lately.”

Raph frowned, because he could hear the smile in Leo’s voice. “Yeah? I guess. Not really. Don’t call him that, it’s weird.”

“I’m just glad you made a friend.” Raph could hear kitchen utensils clanking in the background as Leo prepared dinner. “Honestly, I was afraid you’d get there and spend all your time alone. You were kind of a loner in school, yanno?”

“Okay, you can stop being a mother any time, Leo.” That got a rueful chuckle.

“Hey, you’re coming for Thanksgiving, right?”

Raph tapped the TV remote against his knee and watched Casey lean against the counter and eat popcorn while pretending not to listen to Raph’s end of the conversation. “Uh, Thanksgiving.” Casey glanced at him. “Yeah, I was planning on it. Why?”

“Just checking.”

“Is he coming?” Mikey’s voice registered through the phone as he yelled from the other room.

“Yes!” Leo yelled back. “I’m on the phone, be polite!”

“It’s just Raph!”

Raph chuckled, his chest suddenly aching with how long it had been since he’d seen his littlest brother. “Hey, say ‘hi’ to those two goofballs for me, will ya? Dad, too.”

“Of course. I always do, even when you don’t ask me to.” Leo paused a moment, then said, “Hey, why don’t you ask Casey if he wants to come for Thanksgiving?”

“Leo, he has family here. Pretty sure he’s planning on spending it with them.” Raph cocked an eyebrow at Casey, who was openly staring at him now.

“No, I know, I just think it would be polite to offer. Hold on.” The ridiculously loud sound of a pot of boiling water and pasta being poured into a colander filled the phone for a moment. “Okay, sorry. I mean, you’ve known him for a while, and I’m assuming that means he’s nice, and he’s the first nice friend you’ve made since… Well. He’s the first nice friend you’ve made.”

Raph rolled his eyes. His childhood friend, whom he had affectionately nicknamed Spike, had turned into a massive, sometimes violent dick as they grew older. He ended up having to cut him out of his life entirely and it had sucked. A lot. Donnie had once suggested that the whole thing had stunted Raph’s ability to form relationships, which explained why he never made any friends afterward, and Raph had immediately told him to shut the fuck up and never speculate about his emotional health again. “Okay, you know what? I’ll ask him just so that he can say ‘No,’ and I can repeat that back to you.”

“Alright, thanks!” He could hear that smile in his voice again, and he hated it.

Casey plunked himself back down on the couch after Raph hung up, squinting at him and not offering him popcorn.

Raph reached out and snapped his fingers, refusing to sit up from his slouch. “Popcorn in the middle. You know the rule.”

Casey didn’t move. “Did I just get invited to Thanksgiving at your family’s Ohio ranch?”

Raph kept his stone-cold wall of nonchalance up, but his stomach sank with the realization that this was going to become a conversation. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Leo’s like that.”

Casey shoved a few pieces of popcorn in his mouth and ignored Raph’s glare as he continued to hold the bowl in his lap. “Okay, I accept his invitation.”

Raph felt every muscle in his body tense. Casey raised his eyebrows. The seconds ticked by as Raph didn’t speak, didn’t move, probably didn’t even breathe.

“Dude.”

Raph took in a deep breath and looked away. His hands were suddenly shoved underneath his arms, and his jaw ached from how tense it was.

“Dude.” Casey put the bowl on the floor and scooched closer. “Chill out. Christ. It’s just Thanksgiving, it’s a few days.”

Raph just shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about this right now. “Your old man been pissing you off lately or something? What’s wrong with Thanksgiving with your family?”

Casey put his hands in the air. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Raph. You’ve met my entire family, my sister texts you regularly, my dad has your number in case the car breaks down again! My coworkers have stopped asking if we’re still together and started asking when you’re gonna move in!”

Raph choked on his own spit. “What?”

“Chill out, they’re just stupid.” He rubbed at his eyes with the fingers that didn’t have popcorn butter on them. “Just, we’ve been doing this for what, five months? Give or take?”

Raph shrugged and decided to lie. “I haven’t been counting.”

Casey rolled his eyes. “I haven’t spoken to a single member of your family. Except for that one time Mikey yelled ‘hi’ to me over the phone and I yelled ‘hi’ back. Which was cool, but not exactly what I’d call meeting him.”

“So?”

“So I want to meet them!” He reached over and shoved hard at Raph’s shoulder. “It’s fuckin’ weird that I haven’t! Everyone thinks so!”

“Who’s everyone?”

“And it would be different if you hated them, but I know you would fucking commit murder for any one of them, so that’s not it. And I’m pretty sure they think it’s weird that they haven’t met your boyfriend yet!” He folded his arms. “So I’m going to Thanksgiving.”

Raph looked away and didn’t say anything.

“Raph.”

He shook his head. He looked out the window.

“Raph.” Casey ran his hand through his hair. “Do they know I’m your boyfriend?”

Raph scoffed like he was about to say something snarky, but then didn’t say anything.

“Oh, for fuck’s – Raph.”

“They know you exist-“

“-yeah, obviously-“

“-they just don’t know that when I tell them we’re hanging out, that half the time we’re-“

“-putting our hands in each other’s pants?”

Raph put his hand over his face and stopped talking. Casey let him sit like that for a while.

“Do they even know you like guys?”

Raph sighed. “No, not really. Mikey might, I don’t know. I never told anyone.”

“Okay, why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“I don’t know, because it’s kind of fucked up that your dad told me to ‘call him whenever I need anything,’ but my dad doesn’t even know we’re dating! Because I’m twenty-one years old and living on my own, so it’s kind of pathetic that I can’t just tell my family I like guys when you’ve already introduced me to yours! Because it’s stupid!”

Casey grabbed Raph’s wrist. “Dude, stop, I won’t go to Thanksgiving, okay? I wouldn’t have pushed if I knew it was a big deal.”

“It’s not!”

Casey huffed out a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “Oh yeah, it is. But I’m not gonna make you come out to your family just because I came out to mine already. That would be fucked up. Just don’t worry about it, I’ll go next year.” He paused. “If you’ve told them by then.”

Raph peeked at him from beneath his hand. “No, that’s – that’s stupid. I need to tell them, I’ve been meaning to, I just- I don’t know.” Casey pulled the hand from Raph’s face and held it. “Come to Thanksgiving. Meet them. I’ll tell them.”

“Dude, don’t do it if you’re not feeling it.”

“Nah, I’m gonna.”

“We could go, but just be friends while we’re there,” he offered.

“Ugh. No. That’s…” Raph shook his head. “That would be the worst. No way.” He looked from their hands, clasped together in his lap, to Casey’s gaze. “Besides, I do want them to meet you. Even if I know that Donnie’s gonna tear apart your get-rich-quick schemes, and Dad’s gonna hate your table manners.”

Casey cocked an eyebrow at him. “Not making me less nervous to meet the family, Raph.”

“And Leo is gonna tell you all about how dangerous motorcycles are while trying to make it sound like a pleasant conversation.”

“Raph, seriously.”

“But Mikey is gonna love you.”

Casey snorted. “Gee, can’t wait.” He gave Raph a lazy grin.

Raph smiled back, and for a moment, they just sat, holding each other’s hands, and watched each other.

“Now give me the popcorn.”

“It’s almost finished, but okay.”

“Then go make more.”

Casey sighed and got up from the couch to microwave another bag.

[imaginesfordayss]

What are the odds (x)

Summary:  Teacher!Clarke + Singer!Bellamy + Soulmate au  Word count: 2.2k Warning(s): None, just fluff and tiny bit of angst if you squint 

Find it here on Ao3

Clarke looked down at her hand, the beginnings of a scribbled note appearing below her wrist, “Drop ship, 8pm, tuesday’. She almost spilled her coffee. It just so happened that the drop ship was a local lounge in her town and that her soulmate would be making an appearance there this tuesday night.

Now Clarke didn’t necessarily believe in the idea of soulmates, obviously she knew they were out there but of all the stories she’d heard growing up, she’s learned that soulmates were complicated. There was no guarantee that you’d meet them or even like them; her parents hadn’t been soulmates and they’d ended up just fine. Clarke pulled up her sleeve and turned back to her students, “Now I know the deadline is nearing so I hope you’ve all at least started your projects, remember oil or acrylic paint only for full credit, see you wednesday!” The aforementioned students filed out one by one except a brown haired girl sitting in the back. Clarke looked up at her as she neared, Octavia Blake, she was a recent transfer from somewhere upstate. “What can I do for you Miss Blake?” The young girl smiled shyly.

“I know i’m pretty late into the semester, I was wondering if there’s any make-up work you’d like me to do since I won’t be able to participate in the final project?” Clarke smiled at the girl before rummaging through her desk for an empty sheet of paper.

“Of course, how about this, I want you to find a piece of art, or anything really that you think is art and write a paper on it, let’s say two pages. Analyze this art, why it interests you and all that. I’ll give you an extension since it’s pretty short notice and if you have any questions, go ahead and give me a call.” Octavia took the slip of paper smiling at the bright haired woman before hurrying to her next class.

Clarke sighed, again staring at the crooked handwriting on her arm and wondering what she’d do about it. Officially, she was off the clock so she grabbed her laptop and bag and headed to the one person who’d help her figure this out.

“Raven, I’m having a crisis.” She yelled upon entering the auto shop. Raven slid out from under a car near Clarke’s feet giving her the smug look she always gave her.

“Accidentally slept with a cheater again?” Clarke kicked her foot and then pulled up her sleeve for the girl to see. Raven immediately straightened grabbing Clarke’s arm for a closer look. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Unfortunately.”

“You have to go!”

“What? No, I don’t even know them, they could be a terrible person or an alcoholic or something.”

“True, but it’s your soulmate, Griffin. So many people would kill for an opportunity like this. Plus, you need to get out anyway, this whole teaching thing is turning you into a hermit” Clarke glared.

“There’s nothing wrong with marathoning shows in my apartment.”

“We all need a breath of fresh air sometimes..and a few shots of tequila.”

“I mean, I guess. At least come with me.”

“No can do, Shaw’s taking me out tomorrow, real fancy place, I have to shave my legs and everything.” Raven laughed.

“What if they’re a total creep and they kidnap me and chop me up into little pieces?”

“First of all, your imagination is running a little wild and second of all, we both know you can hold down your own, need I remind you of the night you broke Cage Wallace’s nose after he groped you at a PTA meeting? You’ll be fine, and just incase put me on speed dial, problem solved.” Clarke shrugged, she did have a point.

“Fine. See you at home?”

“Pick up wine and ice cream on your way home?” Clarke nodded heading back towards her car with thoughts swirling through her head.

Clarke laid in bed that night tracing over the words, the sounds of some documentary playing in the background. She knew so many things could go wrong, she’d heard the stories of matches that just didn’t work and yet something in her told her that this was a good thing. She hoped her instincts were right, for once.

The start of her tuesday morning was anything but smooth. Raven had used up all the hot water so she hurried through her morning routine while shivering. Then before even leaving the house, she managed to spill coffee all over her only white blouse. Somehow it all managed to go further downhill after that. The traffic made her almost an hour late to class, a student spilled paint on her laptop, and to top it all off a parent felt the need to yell at her because her son was failing the course. It took her several attempts to explain that attendance and actually turning in assignments were necessary for passing. By the end of her last class she was ready to go home and lay under the covers forever.

She did just that, throwing off her heels, her pants, and her bra before sliding under the covers and closing her eyes. Clarke woke several hours later feeling slightly more refreshed, she pulled her phone from the nightstand checking the time, 5:47pm. She still had time, time to make a decision.

And perhaps that was her biggest dilemma of the day, making a decision. For years she’d thought about reaching out to her soulmate, if she even had one. Finally, in the tenth grade she started writing on her hands hoping for a reply, instead she’d wake up with the same faded marks of her own handwriting and nothing else. She figured she probably didn’t have one or if she did, they just didn’t care so eventually the writing stopped and she moved on to other potential relationships; those didn’t work out so much either. She was sure Finn was the one but then she found him kissing another girl who as it turned out, was his girlfriend of 3 years. When she opened herself up again, it was to Lexa. Clarke’s affection to the broody and blunt girl had caught her by surprise but she felt herself hoping that maybe this time she’d gotten it right. But months later, Lexa had run into Costia; Clarke noticed their matching tattoos almost immediately and ended the relationship to save them both the heartache.  

Clarke pulled herself out of her thoughts and stared at the ceiling. Go or not go? Screw it, she thought, She’d give love one last chance. She threw on something casual that still held a semblance of cute and available and made her way out the door. Parking was always a hassle around the drop ship so she opted for taking a bus. The drop ship looked the same as it always did, old, worn, with just a hint of modern touch courtesy of the new owners. She’d always wondered how they managed to open a place that worked as a bookstore, a bar, and a local hangout for teens.

The place seemed to be unusually crowded today as she walked in, noticing chairs lining the main stage and a line at the bar. She’d been here for open mic night a few months back when Raven talked her into having a girl’s night and it hadn’t been nearly as crowded as this so she figured something big was going on and found a seat near the back. She sat around for ten minutes or so wondering how the hell she was gonna be able to even find her soulmate in here but before she could think of a solution, the lights dimmed and her attention was brought back to the stage.

“I see familiar faces in the crowd, and a few newbies too. Anyway, for those of you who’ve never been, welcome to the Dropship, I’m Miller. My best friend and I bought this place a while back so let me just say we are grateful to you for your support and continued help in transforming this place into a spot for people to have fun. So anyway let’s get this thing started, here’s Skaikru!” The crowd cheered as Clarke watched a group of people walk onto the stage. The sounds of guitars and drums vibrated through the room as a melodic voice filled her ears. She vaguely recognized their faces from a local band poster she’d seen around the high school, her eyes narrowed on the drummer recognizing the girl instantly as Octavia Blake. Clarke found herself smiling and then nodding along to the beat, the vocalist’s voice was mesmerizing and soon she’d forgotten what she came to the lounge for in the first place. He had what looked like a permanent smirk etched onto his face, his sweat drenched curls sticking to his forehead as he sang to the crowd.

She wasn’t sure how long their set lasted but as they left the stage she felt herself wanting more, she was sure she’d listen to the guy’s voice even if he was just reading off a grocery list; it didn’t hurt that he was nice to look at either.

“Miss Griffin?” She turned at the sound of her name finding Octavia staring at her.

“Oh Hi, Miss Blake, I didn’t know you were in a band? You guys were really good.” The girl brightened immediately.

“It’s my brother’s band, Bellamy, he’s letting me fill in on drums while Roan’s on holiday. Oh there he is, Bell!” Clarke turned to find the girl waving over the vocalist from before, she blushed, realizing she’d been mooning over her student’s brother. “Bell, this is Miss Griffin she’s my painting teacher.” Bellamy reached a hand out to the blonde giving her a once over.

“Call me Clarke, you guys were, uh, really good up there.” Bellamy smiled involuntarily instantly finding himself attracted to her, though he felt a little guilty considering she taught his sister.

“I’m Bellamy...thanks. You, uh wanna grab a drink or something, you can tell me all about how much a mess I’m sure my sister has made in your class.” Octavia punched his shoulder in retaliation. “Go help Murphy pack up the equipment O.” Octavia rolled her eyes as her brother’s obvious attempt to make her leave so he could flirt with Clarke.

“It was good to see you, Miss Griffin, I already have some ideas for my essay that I wanna run by you on friday.”

“Sounds good.” And with that the girl was off, sprinting to the stage to help Murphy load up the remaining mics.

“So what brings you here?” Bellamy asked casually, signalling for Miller to slide him a beer.

“Kind of a weird story actually.”

“I’ve got time.”

“Uhm, well…” what harm could it do? “Well actually I’m supposed to meet my soulmate. Okay, no, not exactly meet, but, okay so they’re supposed to be here but, oh my god, okay just look.” Clarke stopped babbling and pulled up her sleeve to show him in the low light. Bellamy grabbed her arm to examine it closer, his face growing pale for half a second and then he just stared at her in a way that completely unnerved her, so of course, she kept talking, “I know it’s kind of weird or whatever but this is the first time they’ve ever written anything and I thought it was worth a shot but I guess it doesn’t really matter now anyway,” She looked around at the nearly empty room; they’d probably left already. She looked back to Bellamy who still hadn’t said anything.

“Clarke.” He spoke suddenly.

“Sorry, too personal?” Bellamy laughed shaking his head in disbelief as he pulled up the sleeve of his jacket to show Clarke the matching handwriting on his wrist. Clarke nearly choked on her drink, putting it down she hesitantly traced her fingers over his arm. “Oh.” She whispered, so quietly she wasn’t sure if he’d heard.

“What are the odds?”

“So you’re not a serial killer or anything right? Because that was like like half of my consideration for not showing up tonight.” Bellamy laughed again and she found herself loving the sound more than she’d like to admit.

“No, I’m not a serial killer. Do you wanna get some coffee or something, I’m not exactly sure how this whole thing works.”

“Yeah, coffee sounds great and don’t worry. I’m sure we can figure it out together.”

Years later Clarke would stare at Bellamy with a smile gracing her face and think of how she almost didn’t show up to the Drop ship, how she almost gave up the chance to meet him. She never would have had the chance to fall in love with him and every little thing about him. She was almost surprised by the force at which her love for him sprouted. She was meant to be taking it slow, trying not to ruin another relationship by going in blindly but then Bellamy would laugh or look at her and she couldn’t stop herself from being so irrevocably drawn to him.

She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to show her that this relationship would fail, and yet, year after year they remained together, always the couple everyone hated because they were so annoyingly into each other. It was around the sixth year that she realized she could just let herself be happy with him, she didn’t have to worry about every little argument or the chance that he’d fall in love with someone else. Bellamy wasn’t going anywhere, he never would.

[kokobussy]

The New Guy

summary - you don’t know anything about computers, but what you do know is the new guy is pretty cute.

warnings - dom!minseok x reader, humiliation, breath play, exhibitionism, deep throat, sloppy blow job, consensual light slapping

Finally got around to making a sequel. It’s here

“Have you seen the new guy?” Sehun leans against your desk with a glint in his eye and a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. Not too long ago the two of you were interns at the company, grabbing coffees for your supervisors and meticulously filing away important documents together. As your careers advanced and old co-workers left, the two of you were nearly inseparable.

“New guy?”

“He’s the new IT guy. A little on the short end, but his eyes are to die for?”

You’d heard this one before. It’s not that Sehun is the office slut, he’s just...the office slut.

There’s no shame in sleeping around as long as safe sex is thoroughly practiced. At this point in both of your careers, Sehun’s slept with almost everyone in the office including you. It wasn’t planned at all by either side, just a spontaneous fuck during a Queer as Folk marathon on Sehun’s couch.

Sure the sex was great, but your friendship was even better and you wanted to cherish that.

“What’s his name?” you ask feigning interest as you scroll through a colorful Buzzfeed quiz. Sehun rolls his eyes,”How the hell should I know? I saw him. He’s cute and he just might be your type.” Your co-worker and best friend stares at you pointedly before you can even dismiss him altogether. “Look, I know you better than anyone else and you’ve been going through a lot lately. Just... treat yourself.”

Once you realize Sehun isn’t going to let this go, you sigh and finally turn away from the computer once the quiz reveals you’re more of a Ross than a Joey. “He just started working here, Sehun, it’s inappropriate.” Sehun scowls in response and takes a sip from the mug,”You sound like Junmyeon.”

“That’s Mr. Kim when we’re in the office, Sehun, you don’t know who’s listening.”

Kim Junmyeon is one of the top dogs that works here at the company. You’ve only seen him at huge holiday parties from afar, in passing in the elevator a few times, and once when you picked up coffee in the lobby of your building a little earlier than usual. You mostly “saw” Junmyeon through impersonal mass emails clearly written by his secretary. He seems like a natural born leader, an intelligent man with charisma and a great smile. Someone who-

“Actually he prefers daddy.”

There’s a pause as Sehun looks around the office to let that statement process and takes yet another too long sip of his coffee, eyes pretending to find interest over at Byun’s cubicle once he reveals he’s blown up his own spot.

“Sehun.”

“Hmm?”

“You slept with Mr. Kim?”

“Uh,” and before you can berate him or ask him any more questions Sehun is gone, suddenly finding interest in getting those reports sent out at his desk.

Before you can throw staples at him and demand more information, your supervisor makes her way around the office to check up on everyone’s work progress. So instead of drawing attention to yourself or starting another quiz, you bring up the spreadsheets that you should’ve been working on and pretend to work diligently for the next few minutes.

Those next few minutes actually end up being on solid productive hour, the spreadsheets actually completed before the end of the day. You decide to reward yourself with a few more Buzzfeed quizzes and just as you’re about to start clicking, you hear a soft,”Is this computer #425?”

You look up to see a shirt tucked into grey slacks. You look up further to see a man with long black hair and large excitable eyes hidden behind thick rimmed glasses. The man smiles once you stare up at his face, “I’m Minseok! I’m with the IT department and I got a call about a virus being on this floor’s servers. I just need to look over your computer for a second.” Virus? IT department? Your computer is being a little slow, but not virus slow. You look over to the pink sticky note on the cubicle wall, reading the numbers “411”, and look back at the cute tech guy. He’s too cute to pass up. Way too cute. “Yeah,” you say slowly,”this is 425.” Minseok smiles, trusting you entirely,”do you mind scooting over?”

You stand promptly, moving out of the way so he can sit down in your seat. “I’m Y/N by the way. I’m not sure what I did, but my computer is super slow,” you say desperate for small talk,”A lot of other people have been complaining too.” Have you talked to anyone today besides Sehun and now Minseok? No. Were other people actually complaining about the lagging computers? Probably.

He nods solemnly, typing things you’ve never seen before into a small black window now on your computer with green colored font. It’s only then that you notice the 16 Buzzfeed tabs just behind that black window and you know in your heart Minseok has seen them, but isn’t saying anything. “We think someone accidentally uploaded a Trojan that spread throughout the serves. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

You huff as you lean against your desk to get a better look at what exactly Minseok is doing, not that you’d understand anyway,”Probably Kris. He watches porn on his lunch break when he thinks no one is paying attention, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Minseok stifles a laugh, covering his mouth to hide his grin before returning to the keyboard.  

That laughter makes Sehun look up to see what’s going on at your desk. Once he sees who is it, he waves his hands in a subtle yet jerky way that immediately grabs your attention from across the office. Sehun holds up a hand to cover his mouth from Baekhyun’s prying eyes over at the desk next to him and mouths,”That’s him.”

This goes on for a few minutes, you trying to figure out what exactly Sehun is saying and Sehun getting more and more aggravated by the minute, but when Minseok suddenly gets up and grabs his messenger bag your attention is entirely on him again.

“We’re gonna be working on all of the computers tonight so this’ll be fixed by tomorrow morning.” Minseok says his goodbyes, eyes lingering on your form little too long, and heads back down the hallway.

As soon as he's gone, Sehun jogs over from his desk and smacks you on the shoulder,"You stupid asshole, tell me everything."

It’s around 10pm when you rush back into your office building. You'd been out getting drinks with Sehun when you remembered the important documents you left on your desk for your presentation at the end of the week. As you walk into the office space and make your way over to your cubicle, you see a figure sitting there typing away furiously at the black screen. "Minseok?"

He nearly falls out of his chair from the closeness of your voice, just behind him, and shouts almost accusingly,”Y/N?”

You blink before laughing,”yeah sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The two of you talk for a while, nonsensical things and general topics that lead to heated conversations about how underrated frozen yogurt is, and you soon lose track of time. Somehow in that time, you didn’t notice Minseok’s flushed face or his slightly unbuttoned shirt. You didn’t notice it until Minseok shifted just a little, fingers fidgeting with the buttons on his iphone and consequently turning the sound on.

High pitched moans and the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin fill the once quiet office. Minseok’s horrified, scrambling to get rid of the porn playing on his phone, but you can’t help squeezing your legs and trying to ease the ache between your legs. It’s hot. Him blushing his hardest and giving you apology after apology is hot. Maybe Sehun is right, maybe you do need to treat yourself.

Minseok keeps apologizing, unable to even look you in the eye and realize you’re taking off your jacket and kicking off your heels. By the time he notices, finally looks at you, you’re kneeling on the ground and spreading his thighs so you can settle between them.

Minseok looks at you in confusion as he tries to understand your intentions,”What are you doing?”

You run a quick hand through your hair, tucking as much of your bangs as you can behind your ears and smirk up at him. You lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet. Soft enough to give him a chance to pull away and say no to the whole thing. Sweet enough to reassure that you’re okay with it on your end. Minseok kisses you back tentatively and keeps his hands in his lap. Your tongues wrestle for a while, getting more and more aggressive as Minseok gets more comfortable. He groans into your mouth, struggling to figure out where to place his hands until you guide them to your chest. But the ache between your legs gets to be too much and all you can think about is sucking him off, helping him with his little problem.

So you get back down on your knees and unbuckle his belt, maybe pulling off pants a little more rougher than you should’ve.

Minseok shakes his head, trying to look past you for any movement in the office,”What if we get caught? My co-workers are in the break room on this floor.”

“We won’t get caught.”

The confidence in your voice makes him relax slightly, but only slightly, and you kiss his knee for some extra reassurance. Even with a few more kisses, your affection and vague explanation aren’t enough and the nervousness in Minseok’s voice rises.

“Y/N-”

“Minseok do you want this or not? If you don’t, I’ll stop right here.”

Minseok looks at you, really looks at you, trying to decide whether this is a good decision or not. You stare at his tented briefs peeking out of his pulled down slacks, biting your lip at the small spot of precum there, but you wait for him to voice any unwillingness first.

You look up at him, smiling as genuinely as you can, and Minseok finds some sort of comfort in it. Suddenly he nods very quickly, hands going to pull his briefs and pants down a little more. While the idea of minseok wearing tighty whities is precious, you need to get a verbal okay before you go any further.

“Hold on, Romeo, I need to hear you say it.”

“I...want it. Yeah I want it.”

After hearing his consent you’re ready to go, grabbing a hold of his cock and pumping it to full hardness. You try not to stare too long at it, smiling when it twitches from being out in the cold, but your eyes always find their way back.

Minseok watches you watch his cock, worry weighing heavily on his brow. Were you disappointed? Was the magic over so soon? He’s a small guy, a whopping 5'7 if he stands on his tippy toes, and his... size reflects that. Just as he's about to tuck himself away and die from embarrassment, you blow on it gently and look up at him with absolute awe in your eyes. Minseok chokes out a moan, hands hovering over your head before going to the sides of your chair for safe keeping.

With each kitten lick you give, his cock twitches more and more. He continues gripping the chair, glasses slightly askew, and letting out breathy moans. You can’t help but coo at the display,”You’re so cute!” Before he can reply, you suck roughly at the patch of skin just below his tip.

Minseok bites his lip, trying his hardest to hold back a groan whenever your tongue flicks particularly hard, but then you gently rub the tip of his cock along your bottom teeth and he whimpers especially loud. “Please,” he begs more to himself than to you,”They’ll hear you.” But then the break room door opens and a figure jogs down the hallway yelling,”Xiumin!” Before Minseok can even process he’s about to be caught and consequently fired, you’re under your desk with a finger pressed to your mouth when he looks down at you in pure panic. He shuffles the chair towards the desk, making sure to hide you as well as his dick, and continues to finish up the code he was working on.

The figure jogs up, revealing a bubbly yet winded chen,”Minseok, are you sure you don’t want to play? Minhyuk’s gonna be the Dungeon Master instead of Kyungsoo. We voted him out.” Minseok smiles up at his co-worker and tries to hide the quivering in his voice,”I should probably finish up here first before I join you guys.” He makes it through sounding pretty okay and because of that Chen wants to talk. He talks about things you don’t know at all, about LAN parties and Dungeons and Dragons. Minseok starts getting comfortable, enjoying Chen’s company as if he forgot you’re under the table ready to blow him.

At the sight of Minseok’s cock softening and the realization of you being ignored, you grab Minseok’s balls and roll them in your hand with a practiced ease. They’re soft in your hand, smooth and lightly tanned, and you can’t help but take one in your mouth. He continues talking and sort of triumphs despite the breathy air he leaves on certain words. Chen is none the wiser, still talking to Minseok about Magic the Gathering or WOW or something equally nerdy. You can see his cock twitch from the slight stimulation, a jerky bob that seeks some sort of friction as it comes back to life. You suck at the tip gently, digging your tongue into the slit and only stopping when Minseok lets out a startled moan at the sudden change in sensation.

Chen picks up on this and frowns uneasily,”You okay?”

You pull him out of your mouth, pulling his cock to full hardness, and Minseok panics like he’s been caught.  Chen gets curious, leaning over just the slightest to see if Minseok is really okay. The smallest tech guy nods quickly, a light flush claiming his cheeks,”N-no I’m okay! I’ll meet you guys there in a sec!” A second goes by. Then two. Then three. Chen shrugs and grabs a handful of jelly beans from the bowl on your desk before heading back to the break room and closing the door behind him.

Minseok pulls away from the desk and stares down at you, blushing when you smirk up at him. "Fuck my face, Minseok." "W-what?" You don't make any attempt to repeat yourself or even look ashamed of what you said. You love this, the flustered stammering as Minseok tries to wrap his head around what's happening.

Before he can ask anymore questions, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out and wait. Minseok can only stare on at your gesture, a bead of precum bubbling out of his tip at the display. "Hands in my hair," you mumble before sticking your tongue back out. But something changes in Minseok so suddenly you almost miss it.

There's a glint in his eye now, an overwhelming darkness that makes your core ache. He grabs your hair roughly, shocking the both of you at the aggression, and places his cock in your mouth. He holds you in place, small fist grabbing with all his might, and watches you moan around his cock. But he doesn't let you bob anymore, doesn't let you tease him with kitten licks and soft moans. He does keep a firm hand in your hair, does let the weight of his cock rest on your tongue so you're familiar with the length, does let the tip lightly touch the back of your throat just enough to make you subtly wince.

You rest your hands on his thighs just to have some sort of leverage as he holds you there, but that small hand in your hair let's go and slaps you before grabbing your chin and squeezing. "Hands behind your back." Oh? You blink once, twice, trying to understand where the hell this attitude came from. This new confidence that Minseok gave off makes you wetter than you've ever been. His shy demeanor is completely gone now as he waits for you to follow his command.

But that soft kind nature comes back briefly and checks in to make sure you're alright,"Green means go, red means stop. Where are you?" He pulls his cock out of your mouth, waiting for you to fully and verbally respond to the situation. You bite your lip, way more turned on than before at the sudden kindness,"Green."

Minseok looks over you, one hand grabbing your hair while the other unbuttons your blouse down three buttons, and nearly cums in his slacks at the sight of your smeared lipstick. "Minseo-"

There's another sting at your cheek, your head turning to the side before you truly realize what happened. "Sir," he corrects, eyes never wavering from the swell of your breasts peeking out of your blouse. You arch your back slightly, making your breasts swell even more in the open top,"S-sir..."

Minseok nods, pressing a harsh biting kiss on your lips before saying,"I only say orders once. If you don't obey the very first time you get punished. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Minseo~ah!"

He doesn't slap your face this time, but he does slap your breast, squeezing it harshly until you say,"Yes, Sir! Ah~ I'm sorry, Sir!"

The threat of another slap makes you put your hands behind your back immediately and the gentle caress of his hand on your cheek is what makes you keep them there. For a brief moment Minseok kisses your forehead just to let you know how well you're doing.

He holds his cock, smearing the precum collected there across your lips,"You look so filthy, baby. I bet you'd look so pretty covered in my cum." You greedily suck at the head, bracing yourself when he pulls you off his cock with a pop. The lingering taste of salty bitterness makes your daring move worthwhile. You need more and you'll do anything to get it.

"God look at you," Minseok starts as he slowly but surely slides his length into your mouth,"you're so desperate for it. I bet you're the office's little cockwhore huh?"

He sets up a brutal pace, not really giving you a chance to catch a breath or even comprehend what's going on. For a minute you're taken aback by the sheer force behind his thrusts. Despite his shy demeanor this definitely isn't Minseok's first rodeo. You can only moan around his length and try not to choke as his thrusts grow faster and more accurate, making you gag and spittle. "I bet all you do is suck cock all day long in this office with a belly full of cum," Minseok grunts as you look up at him with watery eyes,"Keep looking at me, baby. This is what you wanted right? To be treated like the dirty slut you really are?"

Tears stream down your face as your gag reflex is tested beyond what you've experienced in your past sexual endeavors. It isn't the size of Minseok, but the accuracy of his hips and the ability to pivot at a speed you've never seen. Minseok pulls you onto his dick until your nose is buried in a nestle of neatly trimmed black curls and watches you closely. You cry out of reflex, your body tenses and flexes as you're pushed on the tippy top of too much, and yet you still try to flicker some part of your tongue against some part of his cock.

Something happens that you never thought could happen.

While Minseok avoided touching you (entirely on purpose) you'd managed to feel the blossoms of orgasms anyway through this sloppy as ever blowjob. And now with Minseok seemingly ensuring that he makes you pass out with his cock, you can't help but moan as an all too familiar pleasure racks through your core in waves. You shudder through each wave, a long moan muffled by weight on your tongue. "Did you cum from sucking my cock? Well," Minseok smirks,"You're gonna be my little cum dump from now on. You like the sound of that? You're gonna be my little cum dump now. My little cock sleeve."

With several more thrusts Minseok is coming down your throat with a grunt. Wave after wave of his cum fills your mouth and you can't help but moan then slowly swallow when he pulls away. "Open your mouth," he hums as he holds onto your chin. You obey him immediately, sticking out your tongue once again to show that the substance is all gone. Minseok kisses you fiercely, pulling you into his lap and holding you close,"You did so well”.

You're kind of a mess, boobs hanging out of your half opened shirt and completely dazed. There isn't much Minseok can do in an office for aftercare, but he tries his hardest. He fixes your clothes and orders takeout to be delivered to the building. While waiting for takeout to come, Chen returns to find his D&D partner,”Are you ready y-...oh.”

You instinctively runs your fingers through your hair, just to make sure everything is in order, but when Chen motions to your mouth you're a little confused. Minseok glances at you too, a blush dusting his cheeks as soon as he sees what Chen is slowly smirking at. Then it clicks. Your lipstick. “When did you get here, Y/N?”

You grab the compact mirror in your desk and wipe off the smeared lipstick while Minseok explains. “We...we got food and...it got all over,” he gestures to his mouth in a circular motion.

Great. Thanks Minseok.

“So,” Chen starts as he looks between the two of you,”you came over and got food in the span of 30 minutes when I visited you and asked you to come hang out with us.” Minseok nods with a nervous smile,”Y/N is working late too so she brought food with her. Go figure.”

Chen’s smirk soon grows,”I’m glad you're settling in well, Minseok. You already making friends. Anyway, I'll leave you guys alone. We're heading to the next floor in 20 minutes since this floor is entirely wiped,” and when you make a face of confusion Chen answers without really looking at you, his eyes staring directly at Minseok with a hint of a mysterious emotion behind them,”the computers have different servers on each level. I'll see you in a bit Minseok.” With that Chen leaves, not really giving Minseok much time to respond, but the nerd answers with a soft yet excitable “Okay!” anyway.

You stand up right after he leaves, grabbing your coat and the files you had long forgotten. Minseok blinks up at you, his innocent eyes behind those thick glasses almost making you stop entirely,”Where are you going?”

You ruffle his hair, too busy making sure everything you need is in your purse before putting on your jacket,”I'm heading home, babe. I'm not gonna get any work done with you here distracting me.” Throwing your purse over your shoulder you lean down and place a gentle kiss on his lips, giggling at the way he subtly follows you when you pull away,”I'll text you okay?”

Minseok nods and tries his hardest to hide the disappointment on his face as you jot your number down on a bright yellow sticky note. You kiss him again before making your exit, the click of your heels following you down the hall to the elevator. Minseok still can't believe any of this happened on his second week of work, still can't believe that someone as hot as you would just randomly blow him after hours.

He hopes, really really hopes, that his texting you as soon as you leave his sight doesn't seem desperate. But as excited as he is, Minseok can't help but be a little confused at your behavior. You had every intention to stay, taking off your heels and cuddling with Minseok as much as you could in your office chair, and you seemed fine. As soon as you started speaking with Chen, you suddenly left in a hurry almost running out of the building. Were you simply embarrassed because the two of you had been found out or was there something else?

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

*Halloween* Scaredy-Cat. (Dallon Weekes x Reader)

Request: a user on Wattpad: ‘Prompt 19, Dallon Weekes? It’d be really great if you could do it. Thanks!’

Prompt 19: Horror movies

After finishing a relentlessly soul-crushing day at work, you exhaled happily as you pulled into your driveway, the sight of your house a welcome comfort. Exiting the car, you walked around to the boot and grabbed your laptop bag along with a few other files that needed to be worked through for Friday. You grunted softly as you wobbled up the path, the weight of the bag and the files dragging you down. You spotted your next-door neighbour, Dallon, through your peripheral vision, and yelled out a muffled greeting in response to the one he’d just extended to you.

“You need some help, there?” he offered, putting the lid back on the trash can before dusting his hands off and starting back up the path.

“No, I’ve got it. Thanks, though,” you replied, just about managing to balance everything while you unlocked the door. When you succeeded, you held up the keys and nodded at Dallon to show him that you were fine. He nodded back and waved with a smile as he entered his home, you doing the same.

Huffing, you heavily dropped all the things you were carrying onto the dining table, nearly tripping in the process. Placing one hand on your hip, you used the other to swat away the stray strands of hair that had fallen loose from your bun and then made your way upstairs to get changed. As you made your way down the upstairs hallway, the faint sounds of a bass guitar caught your attention, and you smiled. Every time you heard the notes fluttering over from Dallon’s house, you reminded yourself to tell him how talented he is, but whenever you saw him, it totally slipped your mind. Probably largely due to the fact that the two of you seem to only ever see one another when one of you is preoccupied, most of the time with work. You were an events planner, and he was in a band – both of these being exhaustingly demanding jobs, the two of you hardly ever had time to socialise outside of the neighbourly small talk you’d have in passing. It was quite sad, actually. Especially considering that he seemed like an awfully nice guy. Maybe one of these days your schedules would line up and you’d be able to hang out in a decent way.

~

“Yeah, yeah absolutely. Everything is on track,” you spoke into your phone, balancing it on your shoulder as you locked the front door, travel mug full of coffee in one hand, your laptop bag slung over your shoulder and two flip files under your arm. “Are you still fine for meeting today?” You made your way over to your car and as you opened the boot and deposited your things inside, your eyes caught sight of splintering black SUV in your neighbour’s driveway – Dallon was back from tour. “Yeah, I can do 4.30. That cute bistro on Main Street. Perfect. See you then.”

Hopping into the driver’s seat, you pulled out and skidded off to your office. The day dragged by gruellingly slow; the majority was spent double, triple and then quadruple checking that everything was set for the flurry of Halloween parties you had organised for two nights from now – the night before Halloween. You had to meet with two of the clients today, and the other two tomorrow, just to inform them that everything was A-Okay and finalise a few tiny details. It was times like these that you amazed yourself; you were organising four parties, all on the same night, all on different sides of town, all by yourself. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’ve pulled off such a feat, but nevertheless, your abilities never failed to surprise both you and your clients. You couldn’t take all the credit, though. You did have a team of amazing post-graduates who helped you tons – one of them stays at each party on the night to make sure everything is running smoothly while you rotate between all the events – but you did virtually all of the work.

As mentioned before, your job was very demanding.

Every free second you had was spent working, which in turn meant that you didn’t really have time to decorate for holidays such as Halloween, Christmas and the 4th Of July – something that never really bothered you much.

Until this year.

~

It was Halloween night, and you were spread out on your couch in a hoodie and sweatpants, chowing down some popcorn and marathoning horror movies, taking immense joy in relaxing after the parties last night (all of which went extremely well, by the way). You got enough of Halloween at the parties last night to last you until next year, so you weren’t the least bit concerned by the going-ons of tonight.

Or at least, you hadn’t been. Then the doorbell rang.

~Less Than 5 Minutes Earlier~

The ringing of the doorbell sounded throughout the house, and Dallon carefully set down his bass before making is way to the front door, grabbing the nearby bowl of candy before opening it.

He was greeted by a chorus of ‘TRICK OR TREAT!’ from a group of little kids dressed as The Avengers, and he smiled as he bent down so that his tall frame was level with their tiny ones.

“Wow, you guys look awesome,” he smiled, ruffling the hair of the nearby Iron Man.

“Thanks!” the little person beamed, excitedly extending his jack-o-lantern, which Dallon placed a handful of candy in, before doing the same with the rest of the kids.

“Thanks mister!”

“No problem,” he smiled.

The group scurried off down Dallon’s path and up yours, the Captain America ringing your doorbell.

~Present~

Reluctantly, you got up from the sofa and trudged over to the door, being greeted with the same chorus Dallon had just received not too long ago.

“Shit,” you mumbled under your breath, not loud enough for the kids to hear.

With the strain of work and whatnot, buying trick-or-treating candy had entirely slipped your mind, which now left you to suffer through the consequences. Because since you’d only moved here not too long ago, you had no idea how passionate the neighbourhood kids were about Halloween. But you would soon find out.

~

The next morning, your tired frame rolled out of bed and trudged down the stairs to the kitchen, making some instant coffee, needing the caffeine immediately and not wanting to wait for the pot to brew.

Last night was awful. The look on the kids’ faces when you told them that you didn’t have any candy for them can only be described as pure hatred. They continued glaring at you as they walked down the path and disappeared down the street. This routine repeated itself countless times during the course of the night; each time you had to send kids away left you with a feeling of guilt and slight uneasiness in your stomach.

When you walked down to get the mail from the mailbox, you saw Dallon getting his too, and you greeted him.

“Oh, hey, (Y/N),” he tossed you a cute lopsided grin as he removed his letters from the box and shut it, turning around, “How-Oh.” His face fell into a grimace as his eyes raked over your house.

“What’s wron-Oh,” you gasped as you too turned around, staring open-mouthed at your house, the previously white walls now stained with egg and the trees and window ledges adorned with toilet paper. A strangled cry escaped your throat and you shook your head in disbelief. “But it’s not my fault that I forgot! I was busy with work stuff!”

“Yeah, these kids don’t really get that,” Dallon sympathised, crossing over to your house and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I’ll help you clean it up.”

You turned to frown at him, shaking your head. “No, Dallon, I can’t expect you to do that.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I want to. Please. It wouldn’t be very neighbourly of me to just leave you with this mess.” He gestured at your trashed house.

“Bless you,” you sighed, smiling up at the taller male.

~

“Almost done,” Dallon announced, reaching up to scrub the only remaining patch of egg stains from the wall.

“Thank you so much, Dallon. Honestly, if it weren’t for you and your giraffe legs, I’d have been screwed.”

He tilted his head back as he laughed, the sunrays catching him just right and making him look like a literal angel sent from above.

“So, besides this whole thing,” he pointed at the almost non-existent mess, “how was your Halloween?”

“Well,” you said, gathering the buckets you had used, “I was having a horror movie marathon. It’s kinda like my Halloween tradition. I love scary movies.”

“Me too!” his eyes lit up, and he finished up with the cleaning.

“Are you busy tonight?” the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, and you wanted to slap yourself. But when he responded with a simple ‘no’ and a dazzling smile, you regained your confidence. “Do you wanna come over and finish the marathon with me? I’ll even cook. It’s the least I can do to thank you.”

“You’ll cook?” he looked like a kid in a candy store. “Really?” You nodded. “I’d love to!”

“Great,” you smiled, “Come over at 5?”

“I can’t wait.”

~

An ear-piercing shriek echoed throughout your house, and you giggled as Dallon let out a whimper and huddled closer into the couch, trying as best he could to shield his entire body from danger.

“This has to be the lamest horror movie I have ever seen,” you remarked, shaking your head as the woman on the TV got murdered in a horribly cliché and completely avoidable way.

“Are you kidding? It’s terrifying!” Dallon argued, his voice coming out muffled since he was still pressed against a pillow. “I’m gonna have nightmares for days!”

“Ya know, for someone who claims to love horror movies, you’re a real scaredy-cat.”

Dallon’s eyes popped out from over the top of the pillow and he sighed. “I have a confession to make,” he looked down, ashamed, “I’m not really a fan of horror movies. I lied.”

You gasped and clutched at your chest dramatically. “What? No. I never would’ve guessed.” His cheeks flushed at your remark and you giggled. “It’s okay, Dallon. I’ve met people way more scared than you. But… Why lie about it?”

“Because I was hoping that if I said that I liked it too, you’d invite me over to watch some. Which you did.”

Your chest tightened at his confession, and now it was your turn to blush. “If you wanted to hang out, you could’ve just said so.”

“I was too much of a scaredy-cat.”

“Ya don’t say,” you sniggered, cuddling closer to the taller human. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll protect you from the monsters.”

You didn’t fulfil your promise, however, because halfway into the third movie, you’d fallen asleep on Dallon’s chest. But he didn’t mind. You were adorable when you slept, and he spent most of the rest of the movie focusing on you rather than the film. In fact, he was too scared of waking you up and ruining the moment that he wouldn’t even move to get the remote and turn off the loop of horror movies that were playing. He endured countless near heart attacks due to jump scares that night.

The next morning, he woke up before you, and remembering all the scares he went through last night, he decided to have a little payback.

“AHHHHHH!” he yelled, causing you to shoot out of his embrace and let out a scream of your own.

He laughed as your frightened expression turned to one of annoyance and you lightly slapped him across the arm.

“Why the hell would you do that?” you exclaimed, wanting so badly to be mad, but his cute face made it impossible.

He shrugged. “I just wanted to say that I had a really good time last night, and we should do it again soon.”

And with that, he pecked your cheek, got up and walked out the front door.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

[pieceoftopcrap]

Not Josh (Josh Dun x reader)

AGGHH so this is my first imagine that I’ve ever posted and I have like no followers so I doubt anything will happen but I’m still nervous 😂

So, just read it and let me know if you like it. If you wanna request an imagine, let me know.

This just made me happy so I hope you like it guys. Thanks!!!

————

Not Josh. Not Josh. Not. Josh.

At least, that’s what you have been telling yourself for days. Okay, more like months. But, none of that mattered. Just not Josh.

Josh and Tyler were your best friends and coworkers. You saw them on a daily basis and travel on tour with them. As one of their managers/assistants/creative geniuses, it was your job to fully support them and to be there to do everything you could for them. So it could definitely not be Josh for that reason alone.

Not to mention the fact that you had known the boys for years now. Emphasis on the years. And you had always been particularly close to Josh. He was your best friend. You supported him through the good and the bad. You were with him through the break ups, heart break, happy moments. One of the only constant things in your life was Josh. He was your best friend. Your right hand man. And you were his. So this made the thought of any feelings that could have possibly risen for Josh absolutely impossible. Exposing any feelings (which there weren’t any of, mind you) would be awful. You’d loose your friends, your job, and your Josh. Not that he was your Josh per say but he was your best friend.

You’d convince yourself at this point that the butterflies that flooded your stomach when he smiled in your direction or touched you were purely platonic. You told yourself repeatedly that no, you did not find Josh attractive, especially not when he was performing on stage with no shirt and that determined face. And it definitely didn’t make your day when he would text you late at night, asking if you wanted to come to his room and hang out. You had to convince yourself of this. For your friendship and job. Anyways, you highly doubted the feelings (which weren’t there) were mutual. Ever since his breakup with Debby, he hadn’t mentioned girls or being interested in anyone. He was probably enjoying life as a single, handsome, kind guy. Not that you found him attractive. Of course not.

But you couldn’t help to blush as you looked at the photos the tour photographer had sent you of the boys. There was one photo of Josh, a big, goofy grin painted across his face as he sat at his drums, staring into the crowd. He looked so incredibly happy. And he also looked great with no shirt and that goofy grin. But you mean that in a totally platonic way of course. You say there, staring at that once picture for way too long, studying all his features. You have seen him almost everyday for years now but you enjoyed just looking at him. You enjoyed seeing the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and his jaw line. He was seemingly perfect, even his flaws were perfect to you.

Not Josh. Not Josh. Not. Josh.

“Well, well, well, enjoying the view?” Josh popped up next to you, staring at your computer screen before giving you a devilish wink and eyebrow wiggle and laugh. Darn his laugh. It was so cute. In a platonic way of course. You quickly switched to the next photo, which was none the less another photo of Josh. More laughs left his lips as you stared at him with a quizzical grin, hoping your cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

“Ha ha. I was just checking the photos that Adam sent me.” You said, sarcasm dripping off your false laughter.

“You never responded to me last night. I had to watch X-Files all alone last night. You are pretty much the worst.” Josh said in a joking tone but as you looked at his face…was that disappointment? No. Don’t be silly.

“Sorry. I fell asleep. I was exhausted last night.” You said, closing your computer with a sigh. Going on tour with the boys was a blessing but it came with a lot of long nights and you felt you got less and less sleep as time went on.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Josh said, genuine concern on his face as he looked up at you, rubbing your arm with his calloused hands. Somehow, that managed to send a shiver up your spine and make you wanna scream. This was ridiculous. Plenty of times before, Josh had rubbed your shoulder or held your hand. God dammit, during your late night tv marathons, you two would cuddle. In a platonic way. “(Y/N)?”

You shook your head, pulling yourself away from your thoughts. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just need to loosen up.”

“Well, how about this? We have a free day tomorrow so what if tonight, after the show, we get some drinks with Jenna and Tyler? Then we can stay in my room and watch whatever show you want.”

You raise your eyebrow, smirking. “Any show? Even watching Friends? Again?”

“Yeah, even Friends. Again.”

You smiled, feeling warm inside. He was always there for you and always there to make things better when you were down. “Well, I guess then.”

“Perfect.” Josh flashed one of his perfect smiles, getting up. “I have to do sound check but I’ll see you later.” He brushed his hand on your shoulder before running on.

Not. Josh.

————

Every show was electrifying. You are convinced that the boys couldn’t perform a crappy show, and so far they hadn’t proven you wrong. You watched from backstage, like you did every night. But tonight, Josh directed more grins and winks in your direction then he usually did, causing your cheeks to flush and for you to look down at your shoes, praying he didn’t notice.

As the show came to a close, the boys ran off and you congratulated them like you always did. “I heard we are getting some drinks tonight?” Tyler said, wrapping his arms around Jenna, who kissed him on the cheek.

“I’m up for a drink. But first, you need to shower. You smell dreadful.” Jenna said with a giggle, tease fully punching Tyler on the shoulder.

“Yes ma'am.” Tyler said with a wink, walking off.

“I’m gonna get clean, too. I’ll drive you there okay.” Josh said, grabbing your shoulder and you nodded, smiling up at him. “Sounds good to me.” Josh ran off with a wink, leaving you and Jenna alone, with her smirking.

“Well…” she said, giggling a little as eying you.

“Well what?” You said, praying she wouldn’t mention what you expected she would.

“Are you ever, ever gonna tell Josh you like him? Or are you that stubborn?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Jenna laughed and gave you a wink. “Sure you don’t. Just like Josh didn’t know what Tyler was talking about when he mentioned it.” Jenna shook her head and walked off. What the hell did that mean? Josh didn’t know what? What did Tyler say? You stood there in complete and utter shock, trying to digest what Jenna had said.

Was it that obvious? I mean, you had said if you convinced yourself it was simply platonic between you and Josh, everything would be good.

Not. Josh.

——–

The bar was crowded, full of intoxicated bodies and loud music with bright lights. You walked in dreading the evening, but after a drink or two, you felt yourself loosening up. Which is exactly what you needed. You sat with your three friends, sitting next to Josh and across from Jenna and Tyler, who were rambling about something or another. You felt yourself not listening to the story they were telling and staring at Josh, who was laughing and smiling in response. His brown eyes lit up in the bright lights and his yellow hair was pulled back in a SnapBack. A low muscle tank exposed his biceps and you found yourself wishing they were around you.

Not Josh.

You quickly turned away, chugging down a shot of who knows what before Josh looked back at you, laughing. “Take it easy, killer.” He slurred causing you to smile.

Rising from your chair, you looked at Josh, grinning. “Hey, I’m gonna grab a drink. You want anything?”

“Yeah. Why don’t you grab me a beer?” He winked before you walked off, blushing to your annoyance. He really needed to stop winking.

You walked to the crowded bar, looking at a bartender “Two beers please.” You stated, before you found yourself with somebody standing right up against you. You looked at the young man. He wore a button up shirt, pulled up at the sleeves. His brown hair was a mess, but the good kind of mess. He looked at the bartender, stating “Make that three.” before looking at you, smiling. “Hi.”

You looked back at Josh, who was grinning at something Jenna had said. You looked back at the young man before you and smiled before saying “Hi.”

“I’m Alec, and you are?”

“I’m (Y/N).” He reached out his hand and you grabbed it. It felt different from Josh’s hand, Alec’s hands were much softer and unfamiliar.

“So what are you doing ordering two beers?”

“I’m here with a couple friends.”

“A boyfriend?” Alec asked, a grin on his lips and one eyebrow slightly raised.

You chuckle, looking back at your table to see Josh staring at you and Alec, his hand pressed tightly to his glass. The look on his face was unfamiliar, he almost looked angry. You quickly turned away, wiping away any thoughts that ate at your mind. “No, no boyfriend. Just some friends.”

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know how a beautiful girl like you isn’t with someone.” He said, and you found yourself blushing. “So (Y/N), what do you do?”

“Um, marketing, managing, writing. A little bit of this and that.” You responded, pretending not to wonder if Josh was still watching you. “How about you? What do you do, Alec?”

“I’m a programming specialist at a small company. You know, a little bit of this and that.” He responded with a wink and you giggled.

“Here are your drinks ma'am.” replied the bartender as you grabbed two beers.

“I should probably go.” You said, looking back at Alec who smiled.

“At least take this.” He pulled his wallet out and handed you a card, with his name and number and the place where he worked. “You should use the number.”

“I’ll think about it.” You replied with a wink as you walked off, feeling confident up until you reached the table. Josh was staring intently at you as you sat down, handing him his beer.

“Well, who was that, (Y/N)?” Jenna said with a giggle and wink, causing you to blush.

“Just someone.” You nonchalantly said as you saw Josh chugging his beer, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

“Well, that just someone seemed interested. You gonna use that card?” Jenna asked.

“Umm…I don’t know. Maybe.” You jumped in your seat as Josh slammed his class down and quickly got up.

“I gotta go get a drink.” He said before walking off quickly. You looked down at your lap, thinking of the wildest possibility that he was jealous. No.

Not Josh.

——– The taxi ride back to the hotel was completely dead silent. Jenna and Tyler had decided to go off on their own, leaving you with Josh who was heavily intoxicated and completely silent. No words were spoken until you reached the elevator and said “Josh, what is wrong?”

“Nothing.” He replied coldly, still not looking at you.

“Really? Cause it doesn’t seem like nothing? What is going on?”

“Nothing.” He repeated causing you to look away from him and stare at the door in front of you. Tears pricked your eyes as you went up another floor before you heard Josh click a button and the elevator come to a stop.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hissed, glaring at Josh, who finally looked in your direction. He looked beaten and tired.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? You basically threw yourself at that guy tonight. Are you stupid?” Josh said, throwing his hands up.

“I didn’t throw myself at anyone and I’m not stupid. Is that all you have to say?” You replied, annoyed with your arms crossed. “After not saying a work for almost all night, you just ridicule me?”

“How can you not see what’s been in front of you this whole time? How can you not see how desperately I’ve wanted you? How long I’ve waited for you to finally see that I’ve been right here this whole time. You don’t need some guy in a bar. You have me. I have you. I love you, god dammit! Why can’t you see that?” Josh yelled, staring at you, breathing heavily. His face was red and he looked broken, completely broken. He looked the way you had been feeling for months.

You convinced yourself it was platonic. Nothing more. Nothing less. You convinced yourself it was just friendship as your feelings bubbled and grew. Yet here was your best friend, telling you he loved you. And you found no words to say in the moment.

“I just told you I loved you. I’ve been waiting years to tell you that. The least you can do is say something.” Josh said, pleading with you.

While you wanted to jump in his arms and tell him you loved him for years as well, you convinced yourself this was just drunken words spilling from his mouth. So you just responded with a quite “Okay.” Josh looked away instantly and pressed the elevator button, causing it to start back up and rise to your floor, before the doors opened. You both exited the elevator and instead of walking to his room like you always did, you both walked in separate directions to your own rooms.

——

You looked at your phone, praying Josh would text you, saying it was a drunken mistake or ask why you weren’t with him or ask what had happened the previous night. But to your avail, no text was sent and you sat in your own bed for hours, alone and wishing you were waking up in Josh’s arms in his room like you usually did on nights like the previous one. But usually, Josh doesn’t confess his love for you and you don’t respond with “okay”. What an idiot you were. You were too busy convincing yourself that in some way it wasn’t Josh and the feelings were mutual, but they had been.

You knew what you needed to do but putting a plan to action was much harder than it sounded. So, you reluctantly marched to Josh’s room, forcing yourself to knock on the door, half hoping he wouldn’t. But the door opened, and a tired, broken Josh stared back at you. His face turned from sadness to anger and you saw his eyes were red and he was wearing his same clothes from last night. “I’m busy.” He curtly responded before going to close the door.

“Is everything you said last night true?” You quickly spilled out, staring at the floor, too scared of the response, regardless of which one it was.

“Umm..listen, we can ignore what happened. I would rather do that then-”

“Is it? Please just respond with yes or no.” You looked up at Josh, this time pleading.

Josh looked at feet, before letting out a quite, “Yes. I love you.”

Your heart swelled with joy and you beat yourself up for hurting the boy standing before you. “Josh-”

“Listen, I understand. I don’t need pity or anything. I just wanna-”

“Josh, I love you too.” You said it without even thinking and he looked back up at you, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“What?”

“I love you. So much. You are my best friend but I love you more than that. I just wanna be with you. And I’m sorry I said okay but I just didn’t want it to be a drunken mistake or anything-”

Your rambling was cut off by his soft lips meeting yours, something you had reluctantly thought about for years, never realizing it would come to fruition. He slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling yourself closer to him as your bodies pressed together. You wrapped your arms around him, never wanting the moment to end as his lips danced against yours, feeling all the love you too had hidden from each other for so long. He pulled away, looking at you before grinning. “(Y/N), will you be my girlfriend?”

You smiled, grinning at the boy as you finally said what you wanted to say.

“Yes Josh.”

[therightprometheanfire]

I got tagged twice! Here’s @ravingliberal‘s first, because I got hers first.

RULES: tell your followers 11 random facts about yourself and tag 11 people. tag backs are allowed but if you do get tagged again you must not repeat any of the facts you mentioned in the previous round. the facts can be absolutely anything, whatever comes to mind first. 

#1: I just got a banana Starburst that was clearly labeled as a Lemon Starburst, and feel vaguely cheated.

#2: The day Terry Pratchett died, my dad was out on a run. I’d managed to stop crying by the time he came back, but only just. I told him what had happened and felt my face get a little shaky again. He looked at me for a minute, then said “you wanna watch a movie or something after I shower?”. I nodded and before he went to shower, he disappeared for a second, and returned with an oatmeal cookie. “Sadness cookie,” he said sagely, and gave it to me. I don’t remember what we watched, but that’s the most unimportant part of the story.

#3: I can sing all of “Bruce’s Philosopher Song” by the Monty Python guys and when I was fourteen, I sang it during a Shakespeare production, I believe The Merchant of Venice, while playing a drunk, because it was the only drinking song I knew and I knew it by heart. I told only my brother I was going to do it, and he was excited to be let in on the secret. I couldn’t hear her because I was doing my best to project my singing because it was an outdoor production, but my mother evidently laughed so hard and so loud that people turned around to stare at her. I was also still full time homeschooled at that point (for another couple of weeks, anyway, before I went to high school), and my mother jokingly said that the song was our philosophy education for the year.

#4: I have absolutely abysmal eating habits, which is mostly due to the fact that I eat a lot of food as kind of a coping mechanism. I’m trying to get the upper hand here, but it’s really fucking hard.

#5: These days I refer to all male authority figures as “sir” and all female authority figures “ma’am”, which is less me being obsessively polite and more a side effect of going to a military college, even as a civilian.

#6: I love weird socks. Which I always have, to a certain extent. But @i-am-the-knight-who-says-ni got me ones that say “I gave a fuck, once” and that kicked off my real delight in them. Now I have a wide array, including a LOT from Blue Q like “I have mood swings” and “It’s okay, I hate everyone too”, some that look like famous paintings, and a personal favorite that my mom brought me back from Austin, which are American flag socks with Bill Murray’s face all over them.

#7: I am probably the only person on Earth who has a really hard time bingewatching. I’ll marathon half-hour shows, for sure, but those are usually either in the background while I do something else, or episodes I’ve seen before. Bingewatching new, hour+ content is near impossible for me, mostly happening in spurts. The closest I think I’ve come most recently was when I started Hannibal, and watched six episodes in one day. Before that, I watched the second half of the first season of The X-Files and the first couple episodes of the second season in a day. I burnt myself out on both those shows just from those viewings and it took forever to take them up again. Bingewatching, man. An unattainable constant. 

#8: I am a really fast and capable reader, and I started reading Shakespeare when I was nine or ten, starting with abridged children’s versions and moving quickly to the plays themselves. I used to take out books in the tens from the library, read them all, and return them the next week. When I was reading the American Girl books around seven, we had an AG board game that I played with my mother. It had a trivia section and I went for those cards every time, and Mom, who’d been under the impression that I wasn’t really reading the books, just sort of flipping the pages like little kids do sometimes, proceeded to be really freaked out when I nailed almost every single question. I’m not trying to brag or boast here. I’m trying to set up some backstory for you so you understand what I’m telling you that, when none of these things tripped me up, when I was a quite confident and competent reader, I was ground to a halt by The Fellowship of the Ring. I tried reading it when I was ten or eleven, and it took me three years. Now that’ll knock you down a peg.

#9: Orson Welles in his prime, Citizen Kane days could get it. Seriously, all he would have to have done was ask me and I would be like “yup, you bet”.

#10: In relation to the LOTR thing, when I was a kid I had a book called The Languages of Middle-Earth (I had seen the movies at this point even though I hadn’t read the books), which had an Elvish-English dictionary. I decided to write poetry in Elvish. Not only was it abysmal poetry, I mixed the shit out of Sindarin and Quenya, so it just read like a fucking mess.

#11: I refuse to wear any shirt that has curse words on it in public, because in public there are sometimes children and I’m not gonna have curse words around children, come the fuck on now.

I tag @singlemaltantiseptics, @flapperwitch, @irlkatebishop, @princessparadoxical, @ellicelluella, @jennysparkling, @valkyriesuits, @infinitegem, @0nlywishfulthinking, @katymacky, and @padbaeamidla!

Now for the next one! Please assume that everyone tagged in the above is also tagged in this, minus of course @princessparadoxical, on the grounds that she is the one who tagged me in this one :D

Bold the statements that are true for you!

APPEARANCE: I am 5′7″ or taller I wear glasses I have at least one tattoo I have at least one piercing I have blonde hair I have brown eyes I have short hair My abs are at least somewhat defined I have or have had braces There is something I would change about the way I look

PERSONALITY: My Hogwarts house is: Gryffindor Hufflepuff Ravenclaw Slytherin I am an introvert I like love meeting new people People tell me that I’m funny Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me I enjoy physical challenges I enjoy mental challenges (depends) I’m playfully rude with people I know well I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it There is something I would change about my personality

ABILITY: I can sing well I can play an instrument I can do over 30 pushups without stopping I’m a fast runner I can draw well I have a good memory I’m good at doing math in my head I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES: I enjoy playing sports I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else I’m in a orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else I have learned a new song in the past week I work out at least once a week I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months I have drawn something in the past month I enjoy writing Fandoms are my #1 passion I do or have done martial arts

EXPERIENCES: I have had my first kiss I have had alcohol I have scored the winning goal in a sports game I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting I have been at an overnight event I have been in a taxi I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year I have beaten a video game in one day I have visited another country I have been to one of my favorite band’s concerts

RELATIONSHIP: I’m in a relationship I have a celebrity crush I have a crush on someone I know I have been in at least 3 relationships I have never been in a relationship I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them I get crushes easily I have had a crush on someone for over a year I have been in a relationship for at least a year I have had feelings for a friend

MY LIFE: I have at least one person I consider a “best friend” I live close to my school (25 min. away, depends on definition of close) My parents are still together I have at least one sibling I live in the United States There is snow right now where I live I have hung out with a friend outside of school in the past month I have a smartphone I have at least 15 CDs I share my room with someone

RANDOM SHIT: I have breakdanced I know a person named Jamie I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce I have dyed my hair (tried) I’m listening to one song on repeat right now I have punched someone in the past week I know someone who has gone to jail I have broken a bone I have eaten a waffle today I know what I want to do with my life I speak at least 2 languages fluently I have made a new friend in the past year

Thanks for the tags, y’all!

[distantdreaming]

close your eyes & realize that we were meant for this

I realize I never post my fics on tumblr, and that’s shit, because I’m missing a large reader base here. So, here we are, let’s see how well-received this is. If it gets notes, I might continue posting both here and AO3. 

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairings: heavily centralized Iwaoi, side Hanamakki, likely mentions of Daisuga and Kuroken.

Words (so far): 2,733

Summary: Oikawa's bright, loud, confident, and completely full of shit.

Hajime knows he's faking most of his surface personality, and he's also known Oikawa since they were seven years old, so he's not fooled. The pressure is building, Oikawa is cracking, and Hajime's damned if he's gonna let such an incredible boy fall apart on his watch. Even if it means holding Oikawa together himself, he'll do it. He's been in love with the boy for years anyway, and there's nothing like helpless devotion as a motivation to hold on to each other even if the world feels like it’s crumbling to pieces around them.

Title cred to Youth In Revolt. Heavy angst, some triggers, implied/refrenced self-destruction in non-traditional forms. Message for more details.

Just double dare me, and I’ll promise now that I’ll stay. (cred. Waterparks)

It’s funny, really, how little they have in common on the surface.

It’s not as if he wants to be part of some bullshit opposites attract cliché, but he apparently is , because here they are, impossibly different and yet stuck with each other since the age of five. And he’s such, he’s such a fucking cliché, falling for his best friend, the boy next door, the prom king with the perfect fucking hair, and it doesn’t even matter that he knows all of Oikawa’s (many, many) shitty personality traits, many flaws, many imperfections. He’s gone for those stupid curls, and he has been for a long, long time.

Oikawa, for all his ability to read people, has somehow not figured this out yet.

***

For a boy — no, man — with such talent and such skill, Oikawa’s really fucking insecure.

Sure, sure, he’ll adorn himself in smirks and smiles and bravado and crowns, but Hajime knows the way he stays up all night watching, memorizing, analyzing, knows how long he spends practicing, working his body until it’s at the very edge. Hit it ‘til it breaks, and all that shit.

He’s reckless.

He’s ruining his health, putting such strain on his body, and his damn knee is going to actually ruin his career if he’s not careful. Oikawa is aware of this, Hajime thinks, on some level. Still, he’s not stopping, pushing and pushing for perfection that goes against the laws of human nature, and he pushes to be the best captain, the best server, the best setter.

He doesn’t seem to understand that he already is all those things to the boys of Aoba Johsai, he’s already been chosen as captain, they trust him to set, they know his serves are great when they work, and when they’re not, Oikawa’s good enough to keep them rolling forward anyway.

He’s no Ushijima, and he’s no Kenma, no Kageyama, Daichi, Kuroo, though, and Hajime knows he can’t stop comparing himself to every setter, server, and captain he’s ever heard of. He’s constantly ranking himself against everyone else, poking at the flaws he sees until he’s more swiss cheese than man, ripping and pulling at himself to try and make the flaws smaller.

He’s going to fucking ruin his knee, that brace isn’t enough to keep the muscles from tearing if he keeps fucking landing on it as hard as he does.

Hajime can hear the squeak of Oikawa’s shoes against the gym floor as he gets closer, and he sighs. Oikawa and him always walk home together, because if they don’t, Hajime has no guarantee Oikawa will go the fuck home and not stay practicing until he falls apart. Judging by the thumps of volleyballs on the floor, Hajime has to stay and clean the gym — again — and force Oikawa to go shower and change before they can leave.

He toes off his shoes by the door so he doesn’t track any more dirt inside, and he’s been doing sports long enough that the slick-stick of the gym floor doesn’t even remotely bother him when his bare toes settle on it. Sure, it’s gross, but he’s definitely touched grosser.

Oikawa hasn’t even noticed him, tossing the ball up and running, jumping, spike-serving. He misses the bottle he has set up at the other end of the court by only a small increment, but he knows before he lands, so he lands hard.

Hajime sighs, and walks faster, catching Oikawa’s arm as he turns to try again.

Oikawa jumps a little, abruptly facing him with wide eyes, and he moves to pull out of Hajime’s grip.

“No,” Hajime says, closing his hand a little tighter around Oikawa’s forearm. “I’m not letting you go unless you’re going to shower.”

“I’m not done,” Oikawa protests, predictably. “I have to perfect this first.”

“That’s cute,” Hajime says, starting to walk and dragging Oikawa with him. Oikawa stumbles, probably in some kind of childish protest because it is not the first time Hajime has pulled him along, and his height doesn’t mean shit when Hajime’s stronger.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, half whine and half sigh, and it’s a testament to the fact that Hajime has heard every tone his voice makes that he doesn’t glance back or blush, because Oikawa sounds needy and soft. “Iwa-chan, I have to do this. I have to.”

“You really don’t,” Hajime says flatly, continuing to tug him along, and Oikawa lets his step even out even as Hajime feels the frown aimed at the back of his head.

“You’re mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa exclaims, all dramatics and flourishes, and Hajime ignores him because this is what they do. Oikawa pushes and pushes and whines and complains, and Hajime puts up with his shit because someone needs to make sure he’s eating and sleeping and Oikawa sure as fuck isn’t gonna take care of himself. He’s Icarus, and without Hajime holding his dumbass closer to the ground, he’ll melt his wings straight off.

Makki and Mattsun tell Hajime it’s because he’s whipped, and he tells them to fuck off, and they all pretend like Hajime isn’t head over heels for a boy with too many stars in his eyes to focus on something as trivial as unrequited crushes.

This is not to say Oikawa wouldn’t care if he knew; he is many things, but genuinely cruel has never been one of them. Not to Hajime, not to his nephew, not to his sister, never to those who matter. He can come off as mean and conceited and arrogant and a thousand other adjectives that all boil down to big ass head, shitty personality, but he’s so much more when his bravado is pushed aside.

When that fake smile is brushed away, when the peace sign is down and his fangirls are nowhere to be found, when he’s in one of Hajime’s old shirts and his stupid fucking neon alien pajama pants, glasses on and buried in blankets and pillows as he marathons X-Files… that’s when he’s real. That’s when he’s not hiding behind anything, that’s when his walls are down, and that’s when Hajime gets to be closest to him.

This Oikawa, sweaty and tall and limping just slightly, he’s just barely in reach. Hajime’s fingers feel like they’re only just brushing the surface of his skin, like he’s so lost in his fucking head that all he is is cocky jokes and smirks. This is when he’s at his worst, when he’s inches from destroying himself because he feels like he can’t keep going, when Hajime wants to pull him close and fight off everything that ever tries to tell him he is anything but incredible, just the way he is now.

Hajime will draw the reasoning behind this particular attempt and self-destruction later; for now he pushes open the door to the club room and shoves Oikawa in ahead of him. “Go shower,” he says, not even bothering to put any inflection behind his tone.

Oikawa sticks his tongue out, childish and provocative, and Hajime just rolls his eyes, turning around and heading to go pick up all the volleyballs Oikawa has inevitably left at the far end of the court.

Cleaning up after Oikawa is nothing new, and Hajime almost finds it therapeutic at this point. It’s an easy repetition, he’s been spending years cleaning the gym both here at Aobajousai and before at Kitagawa Daiichi, and it’s so familiar he doesn’t need to really think about what he’s doing. Muscle memory will carry him through just fine.

He mops efficiently, absently realizing Oikawa probably hasn’t eaten since lunch, even though it’s nearing nine at night and he’s been practicing for hours. Hajime left practice to tutor an underclassmen, since he’s paid for it and extra money is always handy when Oikawa’s in one of his needy moods, but it meant he’d had to leave Oikawa to his own devices for longer than usual. Makki had work, and Mattsun had familial obligations, and Oikawa was untethered.

He shouldn’t feel responsible that Oikawa, on his own, will hurt himself. He shouldn’t be guilty for having a life of his own, unrelated to Oikawa. And, mostly, he doesn’t, but on nights like these, when Oikawa’s fucking pride gets in the way and he won’t tell anyone that he needs company, needs help, needs anything at all?

It’s frustrating.

He wants to see Oikawa happy, and genuinely happy, not that fake tongue-out winking smile he gives when he’s rehearsed his every movement. He wants to see him able to look in a mirror after waking up in the morning and not cringe away from his reflection, he wants to see Oikawa look back on his performance in a game and be proud of how fucking amazing he is.

He’s putting away the last of the cleaning supplies when Oikawa limps out from the club room, dressed freshly in his well-fitted clothes, damp curls hidden beneath a beanie because he doesn’t bring his blowdryer to school since he’s “ not that vain, Iwa-chan ,” but he still won’t be seen with messy hair. Hajime wants nothing more than to pull off the hat and bury his hands in what he knows are coconut-scented curls, but he doesn’t, because Oikawa will panic about them being in public and appropriate gestures for boys to make.

Hajime really, really dislikes Oikawa’s parents, but that is an issue to dwell on another time.

Now, he pulls his shoes back on and waits for Oikawa to meet him at the door before flicking off the lights and plucking the keys from Oikawa’s hands, locking up behind them. “Ice your knee,” he says, not needing to even ask if it aches.

Oikawa’s mouth twists in a way that is not pretty at all, and so it smooths back out again quickly. “Bossy, Iwa-chan,” he comments, purposefully dismissive. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to mother me.”

“Shittykawa,” Hajime says patiently as he returns the keys into the waiting hand, meeting his eyes levelly. “Ice your fucking knee.”

Oikawa wrinkles his nose and huffs, moving to stride off without him, but he winces as his bad leg hits each step. Hajime, having been expecting this, simply cuts in front of him at the bottom of the stairs and crouches slightly, waiting until Oikawa mumbles about four different curses and insults before climbing onto his back.

He hooks his hands under Oikawa’s thighs and straightens, grateful that he’s such a regular at the gym, because otherwise lifting Oikawa’s lanky ass might have been a problem. As it is, he’s been doing this for years, and the extra weight doesn’t really bother him at all. His knees, after all, are perfectly fine.

Oikawa’s pout is audible in his ear, petulant mumbling and little puffs of breath that tickle his neck. He ignores it as best he can, because if he shivered Oikawa would definitely notice and he’s in no mood to be teased in the way that Oikawa will inevitably latch onto in his current mood. Instead, he sets his jaw and sets off to their street, as he and Oikawa have been next-door neighbors since they were seven years old.

Hajime remembers how he’d looked back then, when he’d still been lighthearted enough to smile at the world. He remembers Oikawa best, though, with those big brown eyes and fluffy curls, round cheeks and short arms and little legs, and fucking grabby hands about everything , so hungry to learn the world by touch.

Now, he has learned to keep his hands to himself for the most part, and he’s withdrawn behind his walls, his smiles and bravado. He’s hiding, really. It’s hard to get close to someone when you’re never really interacting with who they really are, so Oikawa pretends he’s someone else.

Hajime has been around long enough to know him better, though, and through him, Makki and Mattsun have caught enough glimpses to understand that Oikawa is more than he seems on the surface.

They’re on their street when Oikawa loses patience, whining softly. “My knee hurts.”

Hajime snorts. “I know. You overworked it again, even with your brace. That’s why you’re icing it as soon as we get in the door.”

Oikawa’s arms shift a little. “My parents aren’t home,” he says, soft, and, oh.

Okay.

Hajime’s starting to understand why he chose today to self-destruct. His parents have never really been the most supportive, which is a really nice way of saying they specialize in tearing down his already delicate self-esteem and ruining his mental health. If they’ve left him alone for a trip of some kind, it is not without thoroughly tearing him to pieces before they left, in some shitty way of making sure he doesn’t have the confidence to disobey them.

Hajime feels an ache in his jaw from how hard he’s clenching it, so he forces himself to let it relax. “Do you want me to stay with you, or do you want to stay with me?”

Oikawa’s arms shift to more of a hug than a simple grip. “Stay with you. Your mom is nice. She likes me.”

“Everyone likes you,” Hajime grumbles. “You’ve got that kind of face.”

Oikawa positively beams , he can feel it, so he knows he’s said the right thing (not that he had any doubts, he’s known Oikawa way too long). “Yeah, I do, don’t I?”

Hajime has to consciously not smile as he kicks open the gate to his front yard, and Oikawa’s still grinning as he fishes the keys from Hajime’s front pocket (he’s gotten very good at ignoring how that feels over the years) and unlocks the door.

“I’m home, ma! Brought Tooru!” Hajime calls, using Oikawa’s given name because that’s how his mother has always known him.

Predictably, Oikawa flushes a lovely shade of pink and half hides his face when he smiles. Hajime thinks about the least cute thing he can, which ends up being the last time he accidentally walked in on Makki and Mattsun playing intense tonsil hockey.

He represses a shudder and staves off his own blush successfully, grinning as his mom rounds the corner from the living room to greet them, and her attention is warmly directed at Oikawa. She fusses over his knee instantly, because she knows whenever Hajime’s carrying him like this, he’s fucked it up.

“Iwa-chan, your mother is amazing,” Oikawa gushes as Hajime deposits him on the couch and lets go, while his mother is off fetching ice packs and sugary snacks.

“I know,” Hajime says, because he does. He’s so, so grateful he has good parents, a good family, because he knows not everyone does. There’s a beautiful example sitting right in front of him, with lightly flushed cheeks and a slightly crooked beanie and dimples Hajime always wants to poke.

So he does.

Oikawa half-squeals, half-giggles, batting at his hand, and Hajime doesn’t fight the smile that rises on his own face this time. The sound of that laugh is beautiful, because it’s his laugh when he isn’t thinking about making it sound properly boyish and charming. It’s his natural giggle, childlike and gorgeous, just like him.

His mother brings out ice and cookies, and Oikawa gets pampered as his foot is elevated on cushions and a blanket is over his lap as ice is gently wrapped to his knee, and Hajime plops down next to him. Oikawa’s walls are down, and it’s obvious when he immediately tips into Hajime’s side and cuddles up.

Hajime curls an arm around his shoulders, because it’s not like he’s going to deny either of them the comfort of this. His mother had been watching an old sci-fi movie, and it’s got aliens in it, so when she unpauses it Oikawa’s attention is immediately enraptured. Hajime rolls his eyes, and he knows it’s fond, so he steals a cookie off the plate resting on Oikawa’s lap and lets his cheek rest against the soft fabric of Oikawa’s hat.

Tonight will likely be hard, later, because Oikawa’s happiness is mercurial and he will have trouble falling asleep, inevitably, and Hajime will have to coax him into it. Now, though, Oikawa’s got those sparkly eyes on because aliens, and a cute little smile, and he’s warm and safe under Hajime’s arm.

It’s enough. They'll deal with what comes later when it arrives.