#or reblog with it and get a silly pine train going

[so-make-the-moon]

Chris Pine friends, I'm requesting your help.

Would you please direct me to the most ridiculous Chris Pine photo. In your opinion. Whether that's a photo shoot or a fan photo or a screenshot.

I need to fuck with my co-workers leading up to DnD.

[ja3yun]

I'm a Virgin, Not a Murderer: ch.1 | pop your cherry

virgin!heeseung x sex worker!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (m.rec), blue balls, murder, mentions of blood, sex work (use of words tart card and prostitute), set in the 90's london, heeseung is a loser, anything else lmk wc: 11.2k ch.1 synopsis: determined to lose his virginity, heeseung follows his friend's plan and ends up hiring you to pop his cherry, little does he know that he'll walk out of that room something much worse than a virgin a/n: hi! this is the first instalment of iavnam and i am so so so excited to share this with you all. this is a silly, fun fic that i hope you can enjoy but i will say that it has some moments of angst throughout. feedback, comments, reblogs, and likes are all appreciated and i hope you give loser!hee a chance

masterlist | chapter 2

“What am I going to do? I can’t enter working life a virgin.” Heeseung sighs, rubbing his temples as he complains.

Heeseung is a gentle soul, the type of boy you read about in novels or see in cheesy romance films. No, he’s not the bad boy with a hidden heart of gold or the burly football player with a secret love for the arts. Heeseung is the overlooked best friend, the quiet boy pining from the sidelines, the introverted geek who spends his Fridays alone while the girl he loves rushes off with the popular guy.

At 22, Heeseung has never been with a girl. He can’t even look at one for more than ten seconds without sweating or mumbling about the new Toy Story film that was released last year. And with only two months left before he graduates, the thought of entering the adult world as a virgin weighs heavily on him. He might be the only one from the Class of ‘96 who hasn't had this experience, and he feels an urgent need to change that.

He watches his friends with a mix of envy and longing as they get into relationships or have sex with the nearest girl at a party, wishing it could be him for once. All his life, he’s dreamt of a perfect romance where a boy meets a girl, they fall in love, and share their first time.

All in all, Heeseung just wants to be in love with the person he loses himself to. But time is ticking, and he’s starting to realise that his dream of a whirlwind romance might not be feasible. He might have to settle for whatever chance he can get.

“What’s the use in complaining if you aren’t going to talk to a girl for more than a minute?” Jongseong mutters into his beer can, eyes still trained on the Sony Trinitron TV in front of him.

Jongseong has had this conversation with Heeseung so many times that it’s starting to bore him. He understands his best friend’s desire for a meaningful connection; anyone would want that. But Heeseung’s idealism clashes with Jongseong’s pragmatic nature. For months - no, years - he’s been telling Heeseung to either take action or let it go. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin at any age, and Heeseung used to see it that way too. Yet, for some reason, he’s convinced he’d be the laughingstock of any office if word got around.

All throughout high school, Heeseung was the same: stuttering and twitching whenever a girl looked at him. Jongseong has never seen anyone worship women as Heeseung does while simultaneously being utterly terrified of them.

Heeseung suddenly grabs the can from Jongseong’s hand, stunning him, and slams it onto the coffee table of their apartment. “I’m serious, Jongseong. I’m doing it this time, for real.” There’s determination and fire in his voice, even though his heart is pounding at the thought.

Turning to face him, still in a can-holding position, Jongseong raises an eyebrow. “You’re really going to do it? No wimping out?” he asks incredulously. It’s not that he doesn’t believe his friend’s words; he’s just surprised by how assured Heeseung looks.

Nodding, Heeseung crosses his legs on the couch. “Absolutely! And I have a plan.”

“Oh god, what is it?” Jongseong asks nervously, apprehensive about what kind of plan the virgin has concocted for himself.

Heeseung takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. “Alright, so here’s the deal. I’m going to start small and take baby steps. First, I’ll join a club or a group where I can meet people without the pressure of one-on-one interactions. Maybe a book club or a film society. That way, I can get more comfortable talking to girls in a casual setting.”

Jongseong nods slowly, considering the idea. “Okay, that sounds reasonable. Except all the clubs and meets have stopped now considering it’s two months until summer vacation.” The younger rolls his eyes, picking his can back up. “What other plans do you have?”

There is a silence in the air which pauses Jongseong mid-sip. Scratching the back of his neck, Heeseung sheepishly shrugs and winces at his friend's disappointing gaze. It took him a week to come up with that one plan, hoping that he could ride on the waves of already-formed groups. He did, however, come up with the plan 4 months ago and just has never put it into action, so it is a little outdated.

“It was a solid plan!” he huffs and crosses his arms, pouting like a baby despite being the oldest of the two. “It’s not like I can just phone up a girl on one of those fancy mobiles and ask her to fuck me.”

Jongseong’s ears perk up, eyes widening as if he’s just hit the motherload of all ideas. His excitement makes Heeseung sit up in attention, furrowing his brows as he watches him stand up and turn the TV off. “You’re a fucking genius, Lee.”

Although the compliment settles fondly in his heart, he still doesn’t know why he is a genius nor does he have time to think about it before his best friend drags him by the arm outside of the flat and into the street, striding towards something with tenacity. 

He complains about the grip Jongseong has on him but follows him regardless, feet rushing to keep up the pace as they make their way down the street and into the skirts of the city. Heeseung knows better than to argue with the boy when he is on a mission like this, the last time he did so was when Jongseong went on the hunt for the last Thor comic book, edition #487 and Heeseung told him to just ‘get it another time’. Turns out, everyone and their granny wanted it and with Heeseung constantly holding them up, he missed out on the first press. The boy never heard the end of it and was almost disowned.

So he trails idly behind him until they reach a phone booth. The glass is taped with flyers of missing dogs and Y2K conspiracies, babysitter ads and jobs for hire. It’s a mess, yet Jongseong seems to be looking for something in particular.

“I know I said phoning up a girl, but I hardly think Mystic Michelle sees me in her future,” Heeseung snorts, dipping his hands into his pockets. He refuses to tell Jongseong that in a desperate attempt to find out when he would lose his virginity, he had already phoned a psychic medium who told him, “You’ll lose it when you choose to travel.” Considering he has never and likely will never step foot outside his hometown, he deemed that as his first and last time trusting in the universe’s whispers.

Jongseong, ignoring Heeseung’s quips, searches diligently until he sees the poster hanging inside the booth and immediately whips the door open, dragging the surprised black-haired boy into the tight space with him. With urgency, he tears the number tab off of the bright red poster and thrusts it into Heeseung’s hand.

Pointing to the poster, Jongseong smirks. “She is your ticket out of virginville,” he says playfully yet a serious undercurrent waves through his voice. If Heeseung is going to get laid, and fast, he is going to need a professional.

Heeseung looks closely at the poster and sees a girl in a white-laced thong posing in front of a red background, her left arm covering her plump tits as she sucks on a lollipop. His eyes shake and his head follows, backing up slightly despite the confined space and protesting the idea profusely. “Not a chance, Jongseong! This is prostitution, which by the way, is illegal in this country.”

“I know you’re a saint, okay? But desperate times call for desperate measures.” He shrugs, already putting the 20p coins into the slot and picking up the ringer. “You know Jaeyun lost his virginity this way.”

“Yeah, and she was a 43-year-old mother of 6 who fucked him in her garden shed. He said he got the clap from that!” 

Heeseung is not exaggerating, Jaeyun was so determined to ‘gain experience’ that he chose one of these girls from a traffic light pole and what was promised to be a sexy 21-year-old in his area, turned out to be a mum who needed a quick cash grab before her kids got home from school. Needless to say, he went along with it, already mentally prepared for the pop and then a few weeks later by consequence he was in the sexual health clinic getting tested for an STD. He lost his virginity but also his dignity that day.

Exhaling loudly, Jongseong closes his eyes in frustration. “We can phone and ask for an appointment and if she isn’t this very pretty girl that is offering you a ‘spanking good time with a 22-year-old’ then you can bolt for the hills and we’ll find you someone else.” His tone is coated in disapproval at his friend’s unwillingness to give this brilliant idea of his a chance.

Punching in the numbers, Jongseong holds the receiver between his ear and his shoulder, “You want me to talk?”

Realising he is stuck in a boat without a paddle, Heeseung relents, gesturing for Jongseong to take the reigns of the situation; if he were to be the one to speak to the girl, he would probably vomit. This is the complete opposite of how he had dreamed this would go and Jongseong knows it.

The phone begins to ring and Jongseong shushes the other boy as he waits patiently. It gives Heeseung the chance to look at the lewd poster once again and he can see why this one caught Jongseong’s attention over the other tart cards in the booth. The girl is striking and real, not like some of the page 3 models that have clearly been used to lure these desperate men in, there is a prettiness to her, a charm that pulls attention even through a piece of paper.

“Hello, handsome, how can I be of service?”

Her voice, sweet yet sultry, filters through the phone and dances on the glass panels, sending a shiver down Heeseung's spine and making his knees weak. His eyes widen as he gazes at the poster, imagining that captivating voice belonging to the stunning girl. Surely, it couldn't be her, could it? No one could sound and look so perfect simultaneously.

Jongseong scoffs at Heeseung's reaction to a mere female voice and playfully slaps the back of his head, snapping him out of his reverie within the stuffy confines of the phone booth. He clears his throat and addresses the caller on the other end. “Hi, uh,” he glances at the poster, searching for the name, “Y/N, is it?”

You giggle softly over the phone, twirling the cord attached to your landline. “Yes, what can I help you with?”

It’s been a few days since you put up the flyers and there has already been an abundance of calls coming your way; some old guys looking to rub one out before work, others looking to be degraded, and some even just wanting advice on how best to clean their house before their wives come home.

For you, it’s easy money and a needed break from the work you do other than please pervy men. On days you’re not at home, you’re out working behind the bar at Nice N’ Sleazys, picking up after everyone’s mess and pouring pint after pint while the worst music grates at your ears. 

Sex work, despite its numerous downsides, offers a straightforward way to earn money. Initially, you worked in a brothel just outside the main city, where your tips and pride were stolen by the cruel man who ran it. The girls were lovely, and some of your regulars were kind, but the work and pain were too much for the meagre earnings.

So you left and started managing yourself. The owner didn’t like it, but it was your decision. He wasn’t sad to lose you, but rather the money your regulars brought in. However, his displeasure was short-lived when he found your replacement—someone who brought in more money and was willing to do much more than you ever could.

Despite the challenges and dangers managing yourself has provided you with a sense of independence and control that you did not have when working for someone else. You've learned how to deal with the industry's complexities, setting boundaries and putting your own safety first; even if that meant refusing some of your regulars into your new endeavours. 

The line goes silent and you speak up again, “Can I help you?” you ask gently, still keeping the sex worker persona intact. However, once you hear shuffling in the background with hushed whispers, you quickly drop the act and sigh. “Look, if it’s you boys from the school up the road prank calling me again, I will call your mothers.”

With posting your landline in phone booths comes prank calls, you expect it but you could really use the money this week; your fridge is running on empty and your washing machine has somehow blown up on itself - that’s what you get for buying second-hand from a newspaper ad. Maybe you should have picked up that cleaner job for that mansion in the middle of nowhere while you were buying appliances. 

Customers might be regular but you’re just starting, you can’t charge more than you’re worth.

Jongseong flicks Heeseung’s nose, making him yelp. While you are on the other line, Heeseung decides to try and hang up and chicken out but his friend is adamant that he is seeing this through. He doesn’t know how long he can sit and listen to him whining anymore.

“Sorry! No, uh, shit,” Jongseong racks his brain for words that have escaped him, biting his lip as he concentrates on how to perfectly imitate the virgin, “My name is Lee Heeseung. I am a pathetic 22-year-old and need to lose my virginity. I was wondering if you could do me the honours of popping my cherry.”

“I do not talk like that!” Heeseung protests, swatting Jongseongs arm who simply shrugs, unbothered by the offence he is causing the elder. His sole mission is to get Heeseung laid and he is so close to making that happen.

They hear you hum on the other line and immediately stop bickering, staring at the phone as if they can see you through it. “Can I speak to the real Heeseung please?” 

The boy feels sick, head dizzy at the sound of his name coming from your lips but also because Jongseong is thrusting the phone into his face, moving behind him to give him the floor. He hadn’t anticipated speaking to you, just casually observing and listening in to Jongseong sell him off to you. 

“Put on your big boy pants and do this!” Jongseong scolds, eyes darting between Heeseung’s face and the receiver.

Carefully, Heeseung brings it to his ear and closes his eyes, counting to ten in his head before replying. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Heeseung. How are you doing?” you ask softly. This isn’t your first rodeo with a virgin so you know better than to go in all tits blazing and calling him a big boy. 

Nodding as though you can see him, Heeseung purses his lips, trying to muster up some semblance of confidence. “I’m good…how are you?” he asks, his voice wavering slightly despite his efforts to sound assured. The shaky breath he lets out betrays his nerves, and he inwardly cringes, expecting the worst.

On the other end, you can't help but giggle softly. It’s not a titter of mocking, but rather one of endearment. Virgins are the cutest to speak to in your eyes because most of them have no idea how to navigate a conversation like this. There's something charming about their genuine nervousness and innocent curiosity.

Heeseung’s embarrassment deepens as he hears your giggle, imagining all the ways he might be coming off as awkward and inexperienced. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry if I sound nervous,” he stammers, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Your voice remains warm and reassuring, easing some of his anxiety. “That’s okay, Heeseung. Everyone has to start somewhere. I promise, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Your voice is so smooth and lovely that Heeseung instantly relaxes. He is glad that if Jongseong picked any of the workers on the posters beside him, he is glad it was you.

Straightening his posture, Heeseung steadies himself. “My friend is right, I am a virgin and I want to get rid of it. Can you help with that?”

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin,” you gently remind Heeseung, concern lacing your voice. “Are you sure this is how you want to do it?” You should be arranging a time and place rather than potentially jeopardising your weekly food shop, but if you were in his shoes, you’d want to offer him an escape route, just in case.

But Heeseung seems resolute now, determined to rid himself of the insecurity that has plagued him for so long. “I am. I don’t want to graduate with this hanging over my head.”

Your heart melts a little at his sincerity, and you can’t help but pout. “Okay. Well, one of my regulars...well, let’s just say I’m not seeing him anymore, so I have a free slot tomorrow at 2pm. I usually go to the Point A Hotel near the intersection. Can you make it?”

Heeseung looks to Jongseong with panicked eyes, silently pleading for reassurance. The younger man nods enthusiastically, giving him two thumbs up, mouthing a gentle “Go for it” for extra ease. 

“Yeah, 2pm is fine.” His heart beats rapidly as he accepts your offer, his mouth going dry and his palms sweaty. 

“Amazing. Bring £200-, no, £300 and condoms in your size,” you instruct, changing your regular rate last minute. If he is as inexperienced as he seems, he won't know you’re ripping him off a little. It’s not like you want to but it’s what you have to do. The regular that was in that slot usually paid £500 with tips. However, you will take the comfort of not having him around anymore over bills.

Jongseong’s jaw hits the floor as he hears the price, his gaze glued to the phone but before he can barter for a better deal, the phone goes dead, the five 20ps he slotted in finally running out and leaving them both in silence.

Heeseung’s arm drops to his side, still gripping the receiver as he stares blankly into space. “£300 is all my savings,” he whispers to himself, the weight of the realisation settling heavily on his shoulders. Yet, even as the words leave his mouth, he’s working out how to move his bills around and where the nearest pharmacy is for condoms. 

Stepping out of the booth, Jongseong holds the door open and ushers Heeseung to follow. Heeseung, still lost in thought, obediently steps out, the crisp evening air hitting his face, a welcoming cool to the flush of his skin due to talking to a sex worker for the first time and also the heat of the booth.

Jongseong wraps an arm around his friend’s shoulder, pulling him in with a gleeful tug. “Now, let's go get you some rubbers. I’m thinking extra small?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jongseong.”

_____

Standing in front of the shabby hotel, Heeseung braces himself for what will come. He should be ecstatic that he is finally on his way to losing his v card, but the dark clouds in the sky, the three buses, and the 30-minute walk to get to the Point A hotel have given him a dreaded sense of doubt.

The once vibrant red bricks of the building are now faded and chipped, with grime clinging to the crevices. The flickering neon sign above the entrance buzzes intermittently, casting a sickly green hue that does little to dispel the gloom. The place reeks of neglect, and a faint smell of dampness hangs in the air, mingling with the odour of stale cigarettes.

Heeseung’s stomach churns as he takes in the dilapidated surroundings. His heart pounds in his chest, and his palms are slick with sweat. Everything about this goes against what he stands for, but he thinks this might be the closest he will get in his young adult life. The last thing he wants is to be a 40-year-old virgin still complaining to Jongseong that numbing his hand and rubbing one out isn’t doing it for him the way it should.

He looks up at the darkened windows, some of them boarded up, others covered in grime. A lone figure stumbles out of the entrance, clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels, and disappears into the grey afternoon, reinforcing Heeseung's trepidation. Of course, the sex worker wasn’t going to ask him to meet in a swanky five-star hotel, but anything had to be better than this.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to steady his nerves. The anticipation that should be filling him with excitement instead gnaws at him with apprehension. His mind races with conflicting thoughts – the desire to finally cross this threshold clashing with the nagging sense that he's settling for something far less than he deserves. The thought of his future self, bitter and frustrated, pushes him forward despite the unease curling in his gut.

He can't let fear dictate his choices any longer; at the end of the day, virginity is a social construct, and women are the greatest gift from God, so there is nothing to be so scared about. Taking another deep breath, he steels himself and steps forward, ready to face whatever lies ahead within the confines of the Point A hotel.

Quickly, he grabs the shutting door and steps inside, his guard raising instantly as he sees the darkness of the foyer. This is the type of place where people mug you for fun rather than necessity. Stained mattresses are leaning against the graffitied walls, the overhead lights are dull, providing little support to Heeseung’s pupils, and the carpet beneath him is sticky, every fibre clinging to the sole of his Air Max trainers.

He takes tentative steps to the front desk, which has been barricaded by crossed steel bars and adorned with a sign reading ‘Police on Speed Dial’. This does little to make him feel any safer. Heeseung’s eyes squint as he gets closer to the desk lamp and sees a middle-aged woman reading the latest issue of the Digger, a local newspaper filled with all the latest and greatest gossip of the town. The last time he read that particular paper was in the doctor's office, and the headline was ‘HE’S ESCAPED’ with a picture of the man who murdered the shopkeeper and police officer up in Brixton.

Shivering, not due to the air conditioning above him, Heeseung knocks on the desk softly and clears his throat, gaining the attention of the relaxed redhead.

“Yeah?” she asks nonchalantly, her eyes flickering up to the scared boy as if he was inconveniencing her by making her do her job. “Single, double, or meeting someone?”

The question throws Heeseung for a loop. He doesn’t know what room you're in or even if you would have given your real name. Surely, you would have created a fake persona when you came here. What if Y/N was the fake name? His pulse quickens as he stammers, trying to find the right words.

"Um, I'm meeting someone," he finally manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. The woman sighs, clearly unimpressed, and picks up an old, dog-eared ledger from under the desk.

"Name?" she asks, flipping through the pages with a disinterested expression.

Hesitating, Heeseung picks at the skin on his fingers and clears his throat again, a blush rising to his cheeks as he remembers that this is your regular spot, meaning that as soon as he utters your name - if that is the one you gave - then she will know exactly what he is here for. “Y/N. I’m looking for Y/N.”

The receptionist's eyes suddenly trail up and down his body, making him feel as though he is already naked. He is right in his suspicions; she is definitely judging him. Once she finishes examining him, she scowls in disgust and leans back into her chair, placing her feet on the desk as she grabs her paper once more. “Room 1015. And tell her she needs to calm it down with the lube she uses; it’s a bitch to get out of the sheets.”

Heeseung's face burns with embarrassment as he mumbles a quick “thank you” and turns away from the desk. He heads towards the lift, the receptionist’s gaze still sitting in the forefront of his mind, making him even more self-conscious than before. The lift pings open to reveal a tattered metal box, illuminated by a dirty yellow light that only makes the streaks of brown and rust stand out more. Maybe Heeseung should get a tetanus shot after all of this.

He presses the first-floor button with his elbow, careful not to touch anything with his bare skin just in case, and ascends to your room. The buzz from the light and the creak of the old wires holding the elevator make the journey last forever, considering it’s only one floor. But maybe that is also just his nerves. Heeseung's mind races as he stands there, the walls of the lift feeling like they're closing in on him. The air is stale, filled with a faint metallic tang that makes him uneasy.

As the lift jerks to a halt and the doors open, Heeseung steps out into a dimly lit corridor. The wallpaper is peeling, revealing patches of mould beneath. The faint buzz of a flickering light down the hall adds to the eerie atmosphere. Heeseung takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and walks towards room 1015. Each step feels heavier than the last, the worn carpet muffling his footsteps but not the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Pausing before your door, he abruptly pats down his jacket to ensure that he has brought the money and the condoms as per your request. His fingers brush against the crisp bills and the small, foil packets, reassuring him that he hasn’t forgotten anything crucial. The sense of preparedness does little to quell his anxiety, but it’s a small comfort amid his turmoil.

Heeseung breathes out slowly, cracking his neck as though he is bracing himself to fight with Roy Jones Jr. and not a 22-year-old girl who exchanges sex for money; although, he knows which one is scarier at this moment. His knuckles bang on the door lightly and suddenly his mind is reeling a mile a minute, all the questions and doubts he has been tackling within his mind for the past few hours now rushing to him at once. What if you aren’t who you say you are? You could be an old geezer looking to have his way with Heeseung and then toss him out the window with not so much as a thank you. What if this whole thing goes horribly wrong and cums as soon as you touch his cock? He spent last night jerking off and training himself to last just a little longer than usual in an aid to impress you.

Suddenly, there is a lump in his throat and trepidation overcasting the glee of losing his virginity. Something feels wrong, out of place, and his mum always told him to run at the first feeling of danger.

Yet, he doesn’t have another second to turn back and flee the scene because the door is swinging open and revealing-

You. Gorgeous, beautiful - definitely not a creepy old man - you. Heeseung’s jaw almost hits the floor like a cartoon character and his eyes turn to hearts as he takes you in. The baby pink robe you’re wearing with white lace detailing, your hair cascading down one of your shoulders in a soft, bouncy curl, and your lips that are tinted red like glossy maraschino cherries. You look even better than the poster in the phone booth if that was even possible.

His body flushes with heat as he sees your erect nipples poking through the silk, and he feels like he could faint. The sight of you is overwhelming, making his head spin and his heart race even faster. The trepidation that had gripped him moments before is momentarily forgotten, replaced by a rush of desire and nervous anticipation.

You smile warmly at him, a smile that reaches your eyes and seems to melt away some of his fear. "Hi, Heeseung," you say softly, your voice as smooth and inviting as honey. "Come on in."

Heeseung nods, stepping over the threshold and into the room. His movements are awkward and stiff, a stark contrast to your graceful fluidity. The door clicks shut behind him, and the reality of the situation hits him once more. But this time, the sense of wrongness is overshadowed by the sheer presence of you.

You move behind him and drink in the sight of him. If every client looked this good, you might just never complain again - but unfortunately, men like Heeseung come few and far between, like little sprinkles of water amongst oil. He is wearing slightly baggy deep-blue jeans, a white-faded-into-grey Rolling Stones t-shirt, and a red crinkled plaid shirt which is covered by a brown faux-leather jacket. Even his hair is washed and parted down the middle prettily, reaching his rosy cheeks and curving in slightly.

There isn’t a man that has ever looked this fine in your presence, so you’re starting to wonder why on earth he is still a virgin. Then again, he was super nervous on the phone, even making his friend speak for him to begin with - and with the lack of eye contact he is giving you, he clearly doesn’t do well in the presence of a female.

“I didn’t think you would come,” you observe, giggling as he tenses beside you.

Heeseung nods, agreeing with you almost immediately because for a good 2 hours while deciding on whether to wear his favourite boxers or a pair he got from his gran for Christmas, he almost decided to curl himself back into bed and forget you even existed.

The weight of his decision, the culmination of his fears and desires, all come crashing down at once as the silence settles. But standing there, with you smiling at him, he feels a small spark of hope, a glimmer of excitement that maybe, just maybe, this won’t be as terrifying as he’s imagined.

“You look unreal,” he whispers his inner thoughts out loud, causing him to slap his hand over his mouth, eyes shaking at the thought of saying anything at all to you.

His nervousness makes your heart cry, the cuteness trembling from his body is overwhelming, and you find yourself relaxing slightly. Heeseung is a gentle giant, and although he towers over you, he poses no threat at all which you gladly welcome considering what you normally have to deal with in this industry. It’s nice to not have to wonder what on earth a man is planning to do with you because you can’t read him.

Slinking your way towards him, you tuck a section of his soft hair behind his ear, his eyes closing and Adam's apple bobbing at your touch. “I’m as real as they come, baby. Why don’t you relax and give me your coat, hmm?”

As you reach for the brown jacket and try to push it off his shoulders, he flinches and backs away, hugging himself tightly. The sudden movement surprises you, and you quickly pull back, giving him space. His eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights, and you can see the internal struggle playing out in his mind. His face is flushed, and there's a mixture of fear and embarrassment etched into his features.

He quickly shakes his head, realising he startled you into a confused pout. “S-sorry! It’s just the money and condoms are in here and I…I think I might still be a little on edge considering this place is…well, it’s creepy as shit.”

Laughing loudly, you do a mix of nodding and shaking your head, puzzled by his reaction but understanding his apprehension of letting just anyone touch his belongings; God knows you’ve been held at knifepoint once or twice around this area. Your laughter, genuine and bright, seems to relax him a bit. 

“That’s okay, Heeseung,” you say, throwing your hands up in a non-threatening gesture in an attempt to ease his tension, which works surprisingly well. You can see his grip on his arms loosen just a bit. “How about you hang it up behind the door?”

Heeseung looks over his shoulder and sees the empty hook, calling out for his slightly battered jacket. Whipping it off, he clenches it in his hands as though he is wringing it of water - probably his sweat - and perks up again, the nerves still evident in his voice. “Do I give you the money now or?”

You smile at his earnestness, understanding his need to follow the process correctly. His vulnerability is endearing, and you feel a protective instinct kicking in. “Normally, I would take the money upfront but since I trust you not to run away, we can sort it out before you go.” It’s a generous offer in Heeseung’s mind, but in yours, you just don’t know whether he is going to make it past touching one of your tits, so it’s better to actually charge him for what you do rather than jumping the gun.

Heeseung’s eyes widen slightly at your trust, and you can see the relief washing over him. He nods vigorously, his movements still somewhat jerky but more controlled now. “Thank you,” he mumbles, his voice soft but sincere. “I appreciate it.”

As he hangs his jacket on the hook, you can see his hands trembling slightly. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he tries to steady himself. When he turns back to you, there’s a flicker of determination in his eyes, mingled with the lingering nervousness.

Turning around, you are suddenly standing there, your body almost pressed against his. “Come on, sit down for a minute,” you say seductively, code-switching into your sex worker persona with ease. It doesn’t take much, just lowering your voice slightly and hooding your eyes over seems to work for most men, and by Heeseung’s expression and nervous shuffle of his feet, it clearly works for him too.

You reach for his hand, and he instantly flinches, but soon gives way for you to wrap your hands around three of his fingers, slowly guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. His breath hitches as your touch sends shivers down his spine, the warmth of your skin against his sending a jolt of electricity through him.

Heeseung’s heart pounds in his chest as he sits down, the bed sinking slightly under his weight. He can feel the heat of your body radiating against his, your closeness both comforting and intimidating. His mind races with a whirlwind of emotions—fear, desire, anticipation—all swirling together in a dizzying haze.

You sit beside him, your thigh pressing against his, and he can feel the warmth of your skin seeping through the fabric of his trousers. The sensation sends a shiver down his spine, and he can feel his cheeks flushing with heat. He swallows hard, trying to calm the rapid fluttering of his heart. He shifts uncomfortably, his nerves getting the better of him. But your presence is calming, your touch gentle and reassuring.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you assure him, bringing your hand to play with the hairs on the nape of his neck. 

The action causes his body to instantly fold inside itself, melting as you ease him gently into a state of comfort. He hasn’t been touched by a girl in the way you are right now, the closest he’s gotten is a handhold in primary 5 because his friends forced a girl to date him during lunch, so the way your long nails tickle his heated skin only gives his cock a reason to twitch. 

Shaking his head, tensing slightly when he looks into your kind eyes. “No, no, I want to. I’m just not used to talking to girls, or looking at them, or being in the same room as them…” He begins to waffle, talking about everything he has never done with a girl and you find his honesty endearing.

“You haven’t kissed a girl either, have you?” you ask with a hint of amusement. 

“Twice? I think. But they weren’t with tongues,” the shy boy cowards with his confession, scared of being scrutinised by the one person who is supposed to be helping him with all of this. He might just die if you start to point and laugh at him. But to his surprise, you nod understandingly. 

In your world of sex and adultery, it isn’t usually a question. Everyone, especially at twenty-two has probably at least been kissed, but you don’t judge him for not being experienced in even that field. There is a vulnerability and sadness in Heeseung’s eyes that tell you everything you need to know about him; he’s quiet, timid, lacks confidence, and obviously doesn’t venture outside his friend group

You smile reassuringly, your hand still clasping his as you nod in consideration. “It’s okay, Heeseung,” you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and understanding. “We’ll take things slow, at your pace. And I promise, there’s no judgment here…I do have to make sure you’re of age though, y’know, caution and all that.”

It’s not that you think he is lying, you just need to be careful with clients like this, particularly virgins because sometimes it can be a boy chancing his arm at a shot to lose his virginity, and you are not catching a case for a few hundred quid. 

Nodding, Heeseung understands what you mean and points to his jacket. “My provisional license is in my chest pocket. The one on the right,” he instructs. He would go get it himself but his legs are boneless with your proximity, so to save him embarrassment, he’ll let you venture for it.

You release his hand with a tender squeeze before walking to the door and reaching for his jacket, your fingers deftly searching through the pocket until you find his provisional license. With a quick glance to confirm his age, you let out a breath of relief. Everything checks out.

He is also super handsome despite the stoic face and reputation that licenses have for making people look ugly, which you think is unfair but don’t comment. Your driver's license looks like you’ve been swallowed by Jabba the Hutt and regurgitated back up, so the envy you are feeling is real right now.

Suppressing the green monster at Heeseung’s flawless appearance, you slip his license back into his pocket and make your way back to him, your movements slow and deliberate. As you draw nearer, you can see the anticipation in his eyes, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of nerves and lust.

Teasingly, you undo the tie of your thin robe, letting it open slightly and revealing a tantalising glimpse of what Heeseung is paying for. The fabric falls away, exposing the curve of your left breast, perfectly formed and enticing.

Heeseung’s eyes widen at the sight, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in the sight before him. His cheeks flush crimson, and you can see the desire burning in his eyes as he drinks in every inch of your exposed skin. 

This is his first time seeing a boob in the flesh and by God does porn not do it justice. Yours are just what he wants, the perfect size, look, and probably feel; he really needs to thank Jongseong for choosing you for this because he thinks he has hit the jackpot. 

Licking his lips, his eyes trace down to your panties and it instantly makes him squirm in place. They match your robe, a soft baby pink but the main body of them is seethrough, decorated by small pink hearts and a delicate bow on the side. The band of them are a pale rose, popping the colour of your skin beneath them. 

Seeing his reaction boosts your ego and you turn around, letting the silk drop at your feet as you glance back at him playfully, wiggling your bum to show how the panties are actually a thong that sits perfectly between your plump cheeks.

Heeseung doesn’t know where to look, your naked back, your peachy ass, or your beautiful featured face. So he decides what any virgin in his situation would do and looks away, staring at the popcorn ceiling that has leak stains on it.

Giggling, you walk over to him and straddle his lap, flicking your hair to the back to leave your breasts bare and in perfect sight for him to ogle at. Yet, he still doesn’t move. With a playful huff, you cup his face, your false nails scratching behind his ear as you pull him back to look at you.

“You’re going to have to look at me, baby,” you tease, angling his head and your body so his eyes have nowhere to look but your tits. 

They’re even better up close and if Heeseung were any other man, he would be taking your perky nipple into his mouth and starting this session with ease. But he is not any other man, he is a virgin who drools at the sight of any Playboy or Zoo magazines in the windows of shops and then immediately feels guilty because he hates objectifying women in any way shape or form.

He even feels guilty for his cock twitching in his pants every time you call him baby, knowing you’re feeling how it’s practically jumping to be released from its confines and in your grasp.

Sensing his apprehension to make a move, you decide to take the lead slowly by kissing his forehead, your tits hitting his chest as you push further onto him with the movement. “We’ll start by kissing and see where it goes, yeah?”

Your voice is forgiving and reassuring, the pads of your thumbs stroking his cheeks with fondness that only makes him mewl out slightly. You stifle the laugh because you know how humiliated he will feel if you do, not understanding that the cause of your amusement isn’t due to his whining but rather how much you’re enjoying how lost in your touch he is.

Gently, you take his hands and place them on your waist, giving him as much guidance as you can without it becoming demanding. He tenses as he feels your velvety skin, your perfume enveloping him in a mask of florals and vanilla.

"Relax, Heeseung," you say calmly, your voice soothing and encouraging. "We will go as far as you want, and we can stop at any time. Just say the word, okay?

Heeseung nods, meeting your gaze with a mix of anxiety and trust. "Okay," he replies, just above a whisper.

Moving his hands up your back, Heeseung slowly eases into feeling you, gaining confidence with each tender stroke. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. It's a welcome change from the roughness you're used to with your last client in this slot, and you find yourself sinking into the sensation, enjoying the intimacy of a man's touch for the first time in a long time.

It makes you wonder if this is what having a boyfriend would be like.

Heeseung’s eyes haven’t left your breasts, committing every bump of your areola and stretch mark that creates a beautiful symphony of elegant but sexy, each nipple unique in its appearance and direction. There’s nothing better than your boobs at this moment in time; he would pay you the £300 right now if just for one squeeze.

Then it hits him - he could hold them if he wanted to, that’s what he is here to do after all.

Ghosting his fingers up your back, he creates a path for them to cascade from your shoulders to the top of your breast. You feel a surge of anticipation as he gets closer, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body, your cunt starting to drip at the gentle caress.

He stops for a while, contemplating his next move. His eyes look up to yours pleadingly, the virginity shining through his iris’. “Can I?” he asks, seeking permission before delving in.

The act of consent fills you with warmth, and without hesitation, you nod, a reassuring smile playing on your lips. “Anything you want to do, baby,” you assure him, your voice filled with encouragement. 

Heeding your words, Heeseung finally makes his move, his digits whispering to your skin, giving them a tentative rub as he watches the skin melt around him. His thumb strokes over your left nipple, playing with it as if it were a fragile piece of art that he was too scared to break.

For some reason, the act is making you emotional, the way he is so delicately touching you. Never in your career have you seen something so pure and heartwarming. Every other virgin that has called you is just trying to stick it in your hole, never caring about your feelings or comfort.

Lifting his face up, you stare into his eyes with an underlying sparkle of adoration. If you could keep him as a client forever, you would, but you fear that this will be the last and only time with him, so you need to make it count.

You lean in, lips hovering over his petal-like ones and wait there for a moment, a silent ask for consent. It’s only fair considering his decency towards you.

With a nod and a stuttering motion, he presses his lips to yours oh-so-sheepishly. The touch is feather-light, almost tentative, and you can feel his nervousness in the way his lips tremble against yours. Yet there's a sweetness to it, a genuine curiosity and yearning that tugs at your heartstrings.

You respond gently, your lips moving softly against his, guiding him with tender patience. The kiss is slow, unhurried, and as you deepen it slightly, you feel him relax, his hands finding their way to your waist, gripping you a little tighter. His lips part instinctively, and you take the opportunity to slide your tongue against his, eliciting a soft gasp from him.

Heeseung’s reaction is immediate, his body responding to the new sensation with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. You can feel the tension melting away from him, replaced by growing confidence as he starts to explore the kiss with a bit more boldness. His hands roam cautiously, tracing the curve of your hips and the small of your back, his touch still delicate but increasingly assured.

Breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. The intimacy of the moment hangs in the air, thick and heady, and you can see the mix of emotions playing out on his face - desire, excitement, and a lingering trace of apprehension.

“You’re doing so well, Heeseung,” you murmur softly, your fingers gently stroking the nape of his neck. “Just let yourself feel, and don’t worry about anything else.”

Heeseung’s eyes glisten with a mixture of gratitude and relief, and he nods, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he whispers, his voice steadier now. “Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me for kissing you?” you giggle, pecking his lips quickly. “How about I give you something to thank me for, to make sure you’re ready, hmm?”

Heeseung’s eyes widen, knowing exactly the act you’re alluding to, and he nods like an excited boy, a grin plastering on his face that exhibits disbelief and glee.

You guide him to lie back on the bed, the soft creak of the mattress punctuating the moment. Heeseung’s body is tense with anticipation, his hands clutching at the sheets as he watches you with a mixture of awe and nervous excitement. You feel a wave of tenderness for him, this young man who is putting his trust in you, hoping you can make this experience as good as he's imagined.

“Just relax,” you purr, your hands trailing down his chest, fingers brushing over his taut muscles that are hiding under his t-shirt. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Slowly, you work your way down his body, your lips planting soft kisses along his chest and lift up the hem of his shirt to pepper some on his stomach. Each touch elicits a small gasp from him, his body reacting to the new sensations with a mix of surprise and pleasure. You can feel his muscles relaxing under your touch, his trust in you growing with each gentle caress. You feel a strange mix of responsibility and pride, wanting to show him just how good it can feel to be touched and cared for.

Reaching the waistband of his jeans, you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Is this okay?” you ask, giving him one last chance to change his mind.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

With his consent, you unbutton his trousers and slowly slide them down, his boxers following suit. Heeseung’s erection springs free, his breath hitching as the cool air hits his heated skin. You take a moment to admire him, your fingers tracing delicate patterns along his length, feeling the tension and anticipation coiled within him. There's a sense of reverence in this moment, understanding the weight of trust he has placed in you.

“Just relax,” you repeat, your voice soothing as you wrap your hand around his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. He’s at least 6 inches and girthy, making your pussy clench at the thought of him being inside of you. “It’s a shame you’re not letting girls hit it, your cock is fucking spectacular.”

Heeseung’s face flushes with pride and embarrassment as you lower your head, your breath ghosting over his tip. “Oh, this is really happening…okay….fuck…” he breathes out, face turning red and eyes closing as he braces himself for the first contact. No one’s mouth has come this close to his cock so the feeling is overwhelming to his virgin mind.

You watch as his eyes flutter shut, his lips parting in a silent gasp and slowly take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his head, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum that has gathered there. His taste is new, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant - almost clean and without the taste of battery acid some of the men you work with have -  and you relish the sounds he makes in response.

Heeseung’s reaction is immediate, his hips bucking slightly as a strangled moan escapes his lips. You place your hands on his hips, holding him steady as you begin to move, your mouth sliding up and down his length in a slow, rhythmic motion. The intimacy of this act, the connection you feel with him, makes your own body respond, a warmth pooling between your thighs.

His fingers dig into the sheets, his knuckles white as he tries to keep himself grounded, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. You can feel the tension building within him, the way his body trembles with each pass of your lips and tongue. You can sense his struggle to remain composed, his vulnerability on full display, and it makes you want to give him everything he needs.

Heeseung is doing everything in his power not to bust a nut right now, holding back as best as he can. He is also trying not to scream out a tiny ‘Yipee’ at the feeling of your tongue swirling the head of his cock. He’s trying to think of anything that isn’t sexy; his gran, Tony Blair, the old milkman that he swore spat in the milk before he delivered it. Yet, nothing is working because you are that fucking good, your mouth is driving him crazy that he genuinely thinks he could go insane.

You increase your pace slightly, your hand joining in to stroke the base of his shaft in time with your movements, and you can tell he’s close. His moans grow louder, his hips straining against your grip as he teeters on the edge of release. The power you hold over him in this moment is intoxicating, yet you wield it with care, wanting his first experience to be unforgettable.

And unforgettable it will be because just as Heeseung is seeing stars, the door swings open, revealing an angry and brute man. His face is red, sweating from the heat outside, his bald spot gleaming in the overhead light from outside, and his beer belly hanging over his two-sizes-too-small jeans, barely covered by the black worn-out t-shirt.

Charging in, he grips your hair, pulling out chunks of it and possibly some of your scalp as he rips your mouth off of Heeseung’s painfully hard cock. You scream in agony, tears pricking your eyes as he drags you around the room like a ragdoll.

Heeseung's euphoria crashes into a pit of dread, his heart pounding in fear as he scrambles to understand what’s happening. The shock freezes him momentarily, but seeing you in pain snaps him into action. He leaps from the bed, his mind racing with panic and the urgent need to help you. 

But he doesn’t know what to do, his hands trembling and stomach tied in knots as he watches the man lift you up by your hair swinging you around as if you are nothing but a paintbrush he is trying to beat dry.

“You little slut!” the man yells, grabbing your throat with his free hand and pushing you against one of the walls. “This is my session, bitch. I pay you to fuck me, not suck off this toothpick!” The grip on your throat tightens with every syllable spat in your face.

You kick your legs in a pathetic attempt to get the man off you, your air cutting off as your face burns red with struggle. You take a good look at the man and realise it’s your client who usually has your 2pm slot, the same man who tried to force himself on you in your last session and ignored your boundaries. It happens sometimes in this job but they don’t typically come back and try to kill you, at least not in your experience.

Girls at your old job warned you about this, sharing detailed encounters with disgruntled punters, but never did you think that you would be confronting one so early on. He used to be a nice guy, tipping well and never being handsy when it was uncalled for, so when he tried to slip it in a hole only reserved for birthdays, you instantly told him to get out and never come back.

Yet, here he is, choking you out in front of a man you barely know, probably terrifying him for the rest of time. He came here to lose his virginity, not gain trauma.

Heeseung's heart pounds with fear and anger. The man’s violent outburst had shattered any lingering nervousness, replacing it with a fierce determination to protect you. His initial shock melts away, leaving only a raw, primal need to help you. He can't let this happen, not after what you've done for him, not to someone who’s shown him such kindness.

His eyes lock onto the lamp on the bedside table, contemplating his next move. He isn’t equipped for this but he has to make sure you’re safe at any cost. You don’t deserve this, no woman does, you provide a service that most men take advantage of - but not him, he won’t let this brute of a man win. 

Apparently, you have the same mentality, your eyes searching the room for any object nearby. Your vision starts to black out, flashes of unconsciousness flickering over your eyes as you see a vase placed close to your right. It’s a stretch, but you reach out to grab it, your arm going limp and legs losing the fight but that determination in your body courses through and creates enough adrenaline to pinch the top of the vase.

With a swift motion, you lazily but forcefully thump him over the head with it. The blow lands with a thickening thud and the vase shatters into pieces, some of it cutting your arms as they ricochet down onto the ground. The grip on your throat eases ever so slightly as the attacker’s eyes roll to the back of his head for a moment, giving you the much-needed chance to breathe.

Heeseung, caught up in planning his own attack, grabs the lamp, the weight feeling solid and reassuring in his hands. He doesn’t think twice as he swings it with all his might, aiming for the man’s head.

“Let her go!” Heeseung screams, his voice cracking but filled with rage. He catches the man again with the base of the metal lamp, this time on his temple, forcing him to stumble back.

You gasp for air, collapsing to the floor as the man’s grip finally releases. Focusing your eyes on his face, you see the life drain from his body, the snarl that once painted his features now relaxing, face paling instantly as you see him wobble before crashing to the ground beside you.

Clinging to yourself out of adrenaline and fear, you cough, still gasping for needed air and that’s when you see it, the blood rushing from the guy’s head, leaking onto the carpet and staining it crimson with every passing second. Heeseung notices the damage just as quickly as you do, eyes widening and his head shaking, adamant that the man can’t be what he thinks he is.

“Oh my god,” Heeseung whispers, his voice trembling with shock. He drops the lamp, the clatter against the floor barely registering in his mind. “Is he... did I...?” He stutters, unable to complete his sentence, the reality of the situation crashing down on him.

You swallow the lump in your throat, adrenaline puppeteering your body to scramble away from the body and stand up, your eyes trained on the man as your body searches for a perch to rest on. The telephone and trinkets clatter to the ground as you lean against the Chester drawers, your heart pounding so loud you swear you can hear sirens.

“We…we need to call an ambulance,” Heeseung mutters, looking between the man and his own murderous hands. He can’t believe he caused this, a man is lying on the floor, gushing blood from his head all because of him.

As soon as the sentence leaves Heeseung’s mouth, your eyes shoot to him in bewilderment, mouth drying up at the thought. “We need to get out of here, Heeseung, we can’t call an ambulance.”

“We can’t just leave him here!” he protests, mirroring your confused expression.

“If an ambulance comes, then the police will, and we are fucked,” you exclaim in a rushed whisper, aware of your surroundings in the thin-walled hotel, not to mention the fact that the door is still wide open for anyone to stumble upon the brutality that has just occurred.

“It was self-defence!” he retorts, pointing to your neck as if punctuating the sentence with evidence.

You tremble, holding your throat and shaking your head, tears brimming in your eyes despite the urge in you to stay strong; you have never once been a crier, and you refuse to start now, not when you need to keep your head in the game and stay focused. “I’m a sex worker, Heeseung! They’ll lock me up in a minute and blame me for everything.”

Your brain betrays you, flashing with what could happen to you if the police even caught a whiff of you being here. It would automatically be your fault, no matter your plea of innocence. The authorities hate you despite most of them using call girls to relieve themselves in ways they won’t let their wives. You can see it now: the media frenzy, the courtroom, the cold, judgmental eyes of the jurors.

Heeseung’s eyes widen with understanding and fear, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “What do we do?” he whispers, desperation lacing his voice. “I can’t go to jail, Y/N, they will eat me alive.” 

Looking at him, you see how scared he is and you suddenly feel remorse over every other emotion that swirls in your body. He might have battered him over the head but it was you who was behind the reason; the boy felt an obligation to help you because he was here and afraid for your wellbeing. There is no way you can leave him to face this alone. It gnaws at you because you knew you should have either moved time or location, your gut telling you to do so only yesterday, but you ignored it, telling yourself that you were overreacting.

“We need to get out of here. Now,” you say with urgency, reaching over the dead weight of a man and grabbing your robe, tying it quickly around your practically naked body. “Grab your stuff, we’ll go down the back stairs, my car is in the worker's lot.”

“Where would we go? They know that we’re here,” Heeseung protests, running his hands through his hair in frustration, grabbing handfuls and tugging harshly as if trying to wake himself up from this nightmare.

Exasperated, you roll your eyes and snatch your bag from the end of the bed. You manoeuvre yourself around the room with desperate urgency, the breaths you are heaving out fueling you to think straight and keep to a plan. It’s pure fear that is driving your body right now, but you don’t fight it. Instead, you let it take you to safety and away from the carnage that you suddenly don't dare to look at.

Seeing you move with immediateness to the door, Heeseung subconsciously follows you like a lost puppy. Unfortunately for him, his fight-or-flight response has a third option: go into a state of haze. He doesn’t know what to do, and the bright idea that caused the mess before him only makes him doubt his mind about the next move, so he’ll follow you for now.

As you glance back at him, you see one slight issue, causing you to halt in your tracks, sparking confusion on his face, those bambi eyes you noticed now in full swing, making your heart flutter in the most awkward of times. Shaking it off, you turn your body and look down. “Uh, Heeseung?”

“What is it? What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asks nervously, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you speak. “You might need your pants,” you explain, opening your eyes and glancing pointedly at his semi-hard cock.

Heeseung’s face flushes a bright red, emulating the shade of a ripe tomato before he nods. His eyes dart around the room, searching for his clothes, only to spot his trousers and pants trapped under the dead man’s body. The sight of it sends a fresh wave of panic through him, his breath hitching in his throat. “Oh no... they’re under him,” he mumbles, his voice tinged with dread.

You take another deep breath, steeling yourself. “You have to move him, just enough to get your clothes. Can you do that?”

“Oh, yeah, just watch me heave up a 300-pound man off my Levis. Look at me, Y/N, I’m hardly a fucking gym rat.” The deflation and anguish in his voice are palpable as he walks around to the side where his jeans lie trapped.

You know he doesn’t mean to be rude to you, that it’s the fear talking, but you do miss when he was shy and couldn’t even form a coherent sentence without stuttering. At least then he wasn’t semi-shouting at you.

“Okay, okay,” you say softly, trying to calm him down. “We’ll do it together. I’ll help you.” You crouch down beside him, the closeness of the dead man making your stomach churn, but you push through it. You have to.

Heeseung’s hands are shaking as he reaches out, his fingers trembling as they touch the dead man’s shoulder. You can see the revulsion in his eyes, the sheer disbelief that he’s in this situation. With a deep breath, he steels himself, looking at you for reassurance.

“We can do this,” you say firmly, giving him a small nod. “On three, okay? One, two, three.”

Together, you heave, your muscles straining as you push the heavy, lifeless body just enough to free Heeseung’s clothes. The man’s weight is immense, and it takes every ounce of strength you both have. The dead weight shifts slightly, and Heeseung quickly grabs his trousers and pants, pulling them free with a grunt.

“Got them,” he says, his voice a mix of relief and horror as he scrambles to his feet, stepping away from the body as quickly as he can.

You stand up as well, wiping your hands on your robe, trying to rid yourself of the feeling of death that clings to your skin. “Hurry, put them on. We need to get out of here.”

Heeseung nods, his movements hurried and shaky as he pulls on his trousers and pants. The adrenaline pumping through his veins makes him fumble with the buttons, his hands still trembling. You watch him, your heart pounding in your chest, willing him to move faster.

Once he's dressed, you hastily grab his hand, pulling him out of the room and leading him to the backstairs, aiming for your trusty old Austin Metro. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest, the adrenaline of fear coursing through your veins. How could this happen to you? You were just trying to live your life and make some money, not become an accomplice to murder.

Heeseung's thoughts mirror yours, his mind reeling at the sudden turn of events. All he wanted was to lose his virginity, not become entangled in a murder. As his feet scurry behind yours on the stone steps of the hotel, he realises there's no way out of this. There's no one to save him; this experience has irrevocably altered his life, but not in the way he ever imagined.

He walked into that room as a virgin, but now he's leaving as a murderer.

taglist (closed): @yzzyhee @intromortal @zerobaseone-zhanghao @hooniehon @deobitifull @alvojake @sageryuri @slut4hee @binniesbabe @vveebee @minniejenseo @jebetwo @seunghancore @laurradoesloveu @yongbokified @jaehoonii @jaeyunluvr @melonvrs @criminalyun @enhastolemyheart @fakeuwus @flwrhoes @rayofsunshineeee @moonlighthoon @jaehyuniewifeu @en-ternals @haechonly @got-sunghooned @brownsugarbaybee @heeseungspookie @sunpov @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan

[toorussoulmate]

Hello!!! I have arrived with a request

Dunno if this actually counts as fluff but it’s a silly request

(Sugawara x reader, mutual pining) Reader is one of karasunos managers, therefore they’re also on the training camps. One night they can’t sleep and they find sugawara still awake (writing and making up those strategies and hand signals for the team yknow) and they slowly tiptoe over next to his futon and sit down next to him and they spend some time going over it together. At some point reader falls asleep and sugawara pulls the blanket over them and tries to stay a respectful distance. Fast forward the next day, the team finds them practically cuddling up to eachother >:3c

Let me know if something’s unclear! I wrote this half asleep lmao

Sugawara x gn! reader

a/n: This is my first request…I hope you like it <3

“I can’t sleep,” you mumble to yourself. You sigh as you carefully exit the room, making sure not to wake Kiyoko and Yachi. As you’re walking to grab a bottle of water, you hear mumbling coming from the guy's room. You poke your head in and see Suga talking to himself and writing something on paper. “Why’re you still up?” You whisper as you carefully walk over to his futon. He looks up at you and smiles. “Just making hand signals for us to use during games. Why’re you up?”. You smile and sit down next to him, saying, “I couldn’t sleep." There is a silence that looms over you both for a few seconds as you look at each other awkwardly. You finally break the silence. “So, could you show me the hand signals?”. He nods and starts showing you the hand signals and telling you what they mean.

As you both whisper back and forth, you end up lying on his futon. He keeps talking about different signals, and he looks at you, waiting for your response, and sees you asleep. He chuckles to himself and decides he’ll go to sleep too. He awkwardly lays down next to you, trying to keep a respectful distance between you both.

—

“So, should we wake them up?” Hinata asks as he looks at you and Suga cuddling each other in your sleep, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. The whole team looks at you two, and then everyone looks at Daichi. “Just let them sleep,” he chuckles, and he ushers everyone, including himself, out of the room.

—

Suga groans as he wakes up. He blushes immediately when he notices the position you both are in. He slowly gets up, trying his best not to wake you. He leaves the room and is met by the rest of the team looking at him. “What happened last night, Suga?” Tanaka excitedly asks. “Tanaka, a man doesn’t kiss and tell, right?” Nishinoya smiles. “There was no kiss.” Suga states and sits beside Daichi. “But you wish there was, right?” Daichi jokes as he nudges Suga. “Shut up!” he laughs, trying to cover up the blush growing on his face.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[cozza-frenzy]

Fanfic: A Perfect Moment

Of all the places I could be, I just want to be here with you. Hello again, fandom! It’s been less than a week (apparently??) and @chronicsheepdrawing‘s amazing character designs are still keeping my creativity train rolling! This fic once again stars their Drinky Bird Narrator - so if you’re not familiar, go check out a silly bird! (He certainly needs more love, given how he thinks of himself... ) This is a sequel (of sorts) to Anything Not Saved. It happens some time afterwards, after more resets and endings have taken place. Expect a dark chocolate Angst Cake with plenty of Mutual Pining, layers of Fluffy Stannarrator between each layer, and a Meta cherry on top - trust me, you’ll see what I mean. And my apologies to any ASL users; I did at least try to do some research, but I can’t vouch for my accuracy! CONTENT WARNINGS: Isolation, Paranoia, Abandonment Issues, Self-Hatred, Body Dysphoria (Not Gender Related), Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Emotional Breakdown, Memory Loss, Panic Attack, Touch Aversion, Autistic Sensory Overload/Over-Stimulation. I’m also adding a mild Unreality Warning to this one. If you’re looking at a reblog of this post, there are details in the tags of the original if you feel like you may be triggered by this. For everyone else, the tags are a minor spoiler, so maybe don’t look unless you’re really curious. Bon Appetit!

Stanley? STANLEY!? Oh my god, Stanley! Stanley, thank goodness - something VERY peculiar is going on this morning… See, it all started when I booted up my computer this morning - and you’ll never believe it, but I wasn’t receiving any commands! NONE! So I asked one of the other Employees what was going on, and they must not have known, because they didn’t say anything! What do you think; should I perhaps try the meeting room? Do you think maybe I missed a memo? I mean I really don’t want to interrupt anything, not to mention the sheer embarrassment of walking into something like that, not only unannounced but LATE- Wait, I’m not done! Stanley, I’m not - oh, sorry, sorry, of course! It’s precisely 10:32 AM, of course  you always get a drink of water from the cooler at this time in the morning… haha, typical silly old ▇▇▇▇▇▇, am I right? I swear, I’d lose my head if it wasn't permanently attached to my neck! But, ah, anyway, Stanley, I just feel like… like something’s wrong? I mean, have you noticed how some things are, eh, just… you know… ‘off’? Like did you know Employee [ERROR: DATABASE ENTRY INVALID]’s desk is empty? I mean, it looks like they haven’t touched their pencil sharpener in weeks! In fact, now that… now that I’ve thought about it… Stanley, did we ever HAVE an Employee [ERROR: DATABASE ENTRY INVALID]? I mean surely we wouldn’t have a desk without an employee! That’s ridiculous! But why can’t I seem to… ? Ah, yes, alright, I know work is important and I know  I tend to ramble but- please, just hear me out?? Look, I know I must be trying your patience! I know my ‘little stories’ are utterly insufferable to literally EVERY other employee in this building! But you, you always stopped to listen and - waitwaitwait, I’m sorry, just - please! Please Stanley, I’m ALWAYS supposed to receive my instructions and now I can’t even access my bloody terminal! I mean, how ELSE am I supposed to make sure the other employees are doing their jobs correctly?? Didn’t the board hand down that notice just last week!? You know, the one reiterating how vital it is to the well-being of the company that all of us, together- Stanley? Stanley, where are you going-? Can… can you hear me? Can you even SEE me!? Wait! Stanley! Stanley, I’m right here! I’m right HERE! Why aren’t you looking at me? Why aren’t you LOOKING at me!? STANLEY! STANLEY, PLEASE!! DON’T LEAVE M- Oh… …Oh no… —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah, memories… Wonderful, wonderful memories. So much exquisitely-crafted content to reminisce over. He’d worked so hard on crafting this place; he’d fashioned every detail with care and precision. Yes, there would be trees here, a nice little fence there… oh, perhaps a few flowers, for a little splash of color! Yes, yes! The sound of birds, the smell of grass, the sky just a little overcast... yes indeed, not too bright, nor too gloomy. The light would hit just perfect this way, painting everything in soft and muted shades. Wonderful. Those clouds would be the whipped cream on this lovely little slice of the world, so close to being served and savored. And like a nervous, fidgeting pastry chef, the anticipation of someone experiencing this delectable delicacy had him practically giddy! The Narrator took a deep breath through the nose he maybe didn’t have, filling absent lungs with fresh air; and heaved a heavy sigh as he closed his plastic eyes, calming himself down. Wouldn’t be long now, he thought, chuckling softly. Stanley had fallen for his little breadcrumb trail the very minute he’d opened that vent… and any minute now, he’d be marveling at the inexplicably out of place stone archway. Manifested as if in a dream, a glowing portal to another realm, right there in the office… He rocked back on his heels a little, humming merrily to himself as he waited. Ah, he was proud of that little room; so mysterious, so enticing. A beautiful fragment of memory that he’d dusted off and polished up, until it glittered in his mind’s eye like a priceless diamond. Not half bad for something he’d forcibly yanked from the tangled, mangled wreckage that had been left behind in his head, when he’d stopped being human and become something- The Narrator cleared his nonexistent throat, straightening his tie. No, no, not today, he scolded himself internally. That so-called ‘Ultra Deluxe’ content’ had been so unfathomably disappointing, he’d had no choice but to do better! To show them just how great The Stanley Parable used to be! And any minute now, the hero of their story would be walking through that door to the most wonderful surprise. “Just our little secret”, The Narrator said as he felt Stanley’s presence. He was right behind him now, and getting closer. “Take a look.” He turned around, eager to see his protagonist’s reaction. He watched as Stanley shielded his eyes; the fingertips on his other hand tracing the surface of the cool stone pillar, as he stepped out into the memory of warm daylight. And the Narrator’s heart swelled with pride as he heard the soft gasp of wonder - the exact reaction he’d been looking for. “I call it - the Memory Zone!” He said, turning towards the path before him. “It’s where I keep all of my favorite memories… ” Not too far away was a squat, triangular building, full of snippets he’d painstakingly selected and organized for display. He’d come here a few times himself while it was still under construction; just to re-live some of the moments he’d preserved. As soon as Stanley stepped through that door, he would… wait… The Narrator froze suddenly, glancing over his shoulder. He’s got that look again. He’s… looking at me! Damn it, he’d been so caught up in what he was doing, he’d forgotten to unload his model! Alright, alright, maybe if he acted quickly enough, Stanley would dismiss it as simply a brief glitch- >/console >/unload Narrator.mdl ERROR: NOT FOUND What?? Clenching his glove-fist in frustration, he reached into the code and tried again. >/unload Narrator.mdl ERROR: NOT FOUND >/locate Narrator.mdl ERROR: POSITION NOT VALID The Narrator closed the console. That warm, fuzzy feeling of pride was quickly disintegrating under the freezing grasp of fear. He’d built the Memory Zone in a place so well hidden it was only outside the bloody map!!! And now there were footsteps behind him! And like the absolute fool he was, he turned around! Stanley was approaching. Slowly drawing closer. Each step ticking away the seconds to his doom. It’s okay, he reassured himself. You can pass it off as the Easter Egg from last time - just using it as a puppet to welcome him and nothing more! His face flushed. Stanley was right in front of him. He tried not to think about what muscles he may or may not still have - but regardless of their supposed existence, they all tensed at once, leaving him stiff as a board, frozen in terror. But he could work with this, right? Yes, he could! He could work with this! He could improvise, he improvised all the time-! Just don’t move…. Stanley looked into The Narrator’s eyes, his hands held tightly to his chest. …And he’ll lose interest eventually… Stanley moved his hand. It trembled as he held it out in front of him, slowly reaching forwards. Stanley… ? Stanley bit his lip. Wait, Stanley, what are you doing-? And Stanley touched him. The boggled look on the Narrator’s face shattered any previously-held records in the history of boggling. Stanley was touching him. Stanley’s hand was touching him. Stanley’s… warm, gentle hand... the pads of his fingertips slightly rough, slightly calloused. Each one a scar from another life; from the only life he’d known before The Parable. Continuously, rhythmically pressing buttons, over and over. Day in, day out. Broken fragments of memory flashed before the Narrator’s eyes in a sudden flood of noise; a disjointed, jumbled mess, utterly out of context and out of order. The taste of coffee in a paper cup. Stanley’s eyes. The bubble of the water cooler.  Conversation. Buttons marked “YES” and “NO”. His hands, his human hands, nails painted in an office-appropriate shade. A phone ringing. Stanley’s smile. A rising sense of panic. A snippet of a half-finished anecdote. Waking up. Blacking out. Laughter. Fire and pain and then nothing. A lunch break. An office-mandated birthday cake. A board meeting. An office-wide memo. Stanley’s hands. Stanley’s hands. He felt the tears welling up. He wrestled with the memories that hardly made sense, momentarily gaining the upper hand, only to find himself smacked senseless by the feeling of overwhelming grief that spiraled out of the current moment and skewered his heart. He twisted his head this way and that - desperately trying to get his stupid, stupid body to move! This was wrong! This was all wrong! “STOP!!!” The Narrator screamed, finally managing to pull away Stanley recoiled as if he’d been burned, and the Narrator turned from him, clutching the sides of his head as he struggled to get a grip, struggled to cram all of those horrible, horrible feelings back down inside himself where they belonged. NO NO NO NO NO NO-! The illusion is ruined! He definitely knows it’s me now! But ahead of him lay his last hope. His last chance at salvaging something, anything, from this horrendous mistake he’d made. The display area! If I can just get to it then I won’t have to face him! he thought to himself. He’d have to be quick, he’d have to take advantage of Stanley being distracted, but he could do this. He could make it! He could… he could just figure out the rest later, he had to GO! The Narrator started to run; and realized his fatal mistake too late. Inside his inhuman, transparent stomach, a sizable amount of liquid sloshed noisily back and forth. The more he ran, the more it sloshed. Back and forth, back and forth. Slish, slosh, slish, slosh… the momentum of each wave slowly building... and building... until-! “AH!!” One of his feet caught on an uneven memory of grass. All that heavy liquid, all that momentum, SLOSHED all the way to his front. And as these things tend to work with the laws of physics, the weight sent him tumbling forward onto his stupid idiot face, sliding across the ground a few feet before he finally came to a stop. The Narrator rocked gently back and forth from the still-sloshing liquid in the transparent globe of his belly, knowing exactly how he looked. It was a sight that would leave a professional circus clown weeping; hanging up his red nose and floppy shoes for the last time, his worldview in ruins. Witnessing such a sight, he’d know, deep in his heart, that no carefully coordinated pratfall or precisely timed nose honk - not a single artfully-placed whoopee cushion or expertly thrown custard pie - could ever come close to such breathtaking buffoonery. This is it. Stanley is never going to take me seriously ever again. The tears came thick and fast now, leaving the despairing Narrator gasping for breath between sobs. He’ll laugh at me. He’ll mock any sort of narrative I’ll try and create. Anything I try, no matter how wonderful, no matter how meaningful, it’ll be just a big joke. Like ME. Stanley stood over the Narrator, casting a shadow over him as he lay on the floor. The Narrator glanced over his shoulder, his fingers digging into the memories of grass and dirt beneath them and ripping them apart. Suddenly, hopelessness had given way to white-hot fury; Go on, he silently, bitterly urged his protagonist. Do it, you cretin. Finish me off. Put me out of my misery. Break my story! Break my heart! Break ME! Burn it all down, grind it all into the dirt where it belongs-! Stanley held out his hand. The Narrator looked up at him, tears still rolling down his cheeks. He was - for perhaps the first time in his life - speechless. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile; a man named Stanley had overstepped, and he knew it. <It’s you.> He’d signed, mere moments ago. <It’s really you… > Oh of course that shrill, annoying little voice in his head known as Common Sense had screamed at him endlessly. It stomped its little feet, tore out its hair, hammered its little fists on the bars of the bespoke and utterly inescapable cage that situations like this always built to contain it. No, stop! It cried. You mustn’t! But Stanley’s hand had moved of its own accord. He just had to know. He had to know if what he was seeing in front of him was really, really real. He had to know if what seemed like a memory of a dream of a memory - of someone he’d once felt close to - actually meant something. And then he’d touched The Narrator. Stanley’s hand shook when it had first met that plastic cheek; but feeling the smooth surface, he couldn’t help but relax from its reassuring familiarity. It was almost like a button, if a button was surprisingly warm. And despite feeling almost exactly like plastic, there was something indescribable, something wonderfully and beautifully alive about it. This was plastic with a pulse, and it made his fingertips tingle... His gently questing fingers found hair next. If he’d been one for poetry, he might have compared its color to fresh-fallen snow, kissed by the morning sun, but such metaphors escaped a mind such as his. Stanley was a simple man; not stupid, at least not usually, but his world had been small before the Parable swallowed him up. His memories of his old life were limited mostly to what he’d done at the office. But he vaguely remembered seeing a color like that, at work, in some kind of context… by the water cooler, during some kind of talk… and he knew he’d wondered, more than once, if it was as soft and fluffy as it looked. And as he stroked it gently... yes, apparently, it was that soft. A little stiffer than he’d imagined, maybe, but at least it looked nice and fluffy. Stanley felt a blush spreading across his cheeks. He hadn’t been sure what to think at first, but one word was slowly coming to mind, and that word was- “STOP!!!” Suddenly, abruptly, Stanley half-remembered and half-realized that softness was attached to The Narrator, and the shock may as well have electrified his arm. He pulled away; and seeing The Narrator’s reaction, his poor, simple heart sunk all the way to his feet. He knew he’d pushed things too far, he knew he’d done something dangerously close to Workplace Inappropriate Physical Contact, but had he hurt him-?? The Narrator turned and tried to run. Stanley scrambled after him, longing to cry out; Wait, please! I’m sorry! Don’t despawn again! The Narrator tripped and fell. Stanley, overcome with worry, rushed to his side, extending his hand. The Narrator just… looked at him. He was breathing heavily, his eyes full of tears, his fingers covered in dirt and crushed bits of grass. <I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!> Stanley signed repeatedly; in his desperation, he couldn’t even remember the next part of the Workplace Apology Procedure. The Narrator was still silent; and Stanley’s heart sunk further and further as his frustration grew and grew. Half-formed signs spilled from his shaking hands as his own tears began to rally the troops, fat drops ready to march down his cheeks in double time as he bit his tongue - why was this so hard, why was this so hard?? Mustering every bit of bravery an office worker of his rank possibly could, Stanley fell back on his last resort. Extending his hand again, he crossed the fingers on his other hand, holding them up so The Narrator could see them clearly; <R> Next, he held two fingers up; <U> His fingers formed a circle; <O> And lastly, two fingers split, like a peace sign; <K> “Am I… okay??” The Narrator’s words were strangled with emotion; but just hearing him say something, say anything, was enough for a wave of relief to wash over our daring hero. Smiling, Stanley beckoned with his extended hand, and The Narrator finally grasped it. It was soft, like the tasteful suede they used for the chairs in the Boss’ Office, and Stanley found himself subconsciously running his thumb over a line of neat stitches as he helped the poor man off the ground. The Narrator teetered on his feet for a moment, seeming unsteady. Stanley tilted his head slightly; what was that strange sloshing noise… ? But The Narrator sniffled, bowing his head again, and Stanley immediately snapped to attention. Yes, he knew just what to do! Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a packet of Office-Issued Disposable Handkerchiefs - an employee’s best friend for any sneeze, sniffle, or non-fatal accident involving coffee - and handed one to The Narrator. “Oh, Stanley… ” The Narrator dabbed at his eyes, and blew his nose like a foghorn. Stanley looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and utterly helpless confusion. He could only ever recall hearing him so utterly distraught once before, and that was… not a memory he really wanted to dig into. Was this really his fault? Had he deviated too much? Had he ruined his story again… ? “I don’t understand… I just don’t understand… ” sobbed the Narrator; ”Why are you being so nice to me?” Stanley was utterly dumbfounded. He couldn’t even bring himself to start signing, but the What!? was so implicit that The Narrator looked up in surprise <BECAUSE! I’M! HAPPY! TO SEE YOU!> Stanley signed with undeniable emphasis, holding his hands right at the Narrator’s eye level. Unable to hold back his own tears for a fraction of a second longer, the armies came marching forth in torrents. Stanley was happy. Stanley was angry. Stanley was frustrated, overwhelmed, overstimulated, and so desperate he felt like he was drowning. His lip quivered, his whole body shaking from the effort, but he had to do this, he had to be brave. This was what he’d waited for. This was his hope. Somewhere, far far back in his memories, something stirred. Before the Parable. Before beginnings and endings. Before he’d ever known what a ‘Reset’ was, those memories were reaching out to him. Memories of a face half-remembered, and a name long forgotten. Memories of someone speaking his name, over and over, instead of addressing him simply as ‘427’. A kindly smile. Uproarious, mischievous laughter. Coffee with cream and a disproportionate amount of sugar. Passing a slice of store-bought birthday cake, and accidentally brushing hands under the paper plate. <STAY!> And stories. Every day, there were stories. The other employees called it rambling, called it irritating, called it inefficient and unproductive… but to him, they were little stories… <HERE!!> Stanley strained from the effort. <PLEASE!!!> And The Narrator touched him back. Stanley froze in place. He was hyperventilating, gasping for every breath between silent sobs, but his hands finally lay still. The Narrator’s hands were holding them; silencing them. But Stanley didn’t mind; in fact, he welcomed it. He was at his breaking point. His heart and his head were both full to bursting. So many feelings. So many words. This wasn’t what he was good at. This wasn’t what he was meant for. But now, standing right across from him, was someone who was. Standing there, gently holding Stanley’s hands, was me. His Narrator. Let’s shift the perspective again, shall we? —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ahhh, there! That’s much better… feels like having a really good stretch after you’ve been sitting in the same place for a while, don’t you think? Let’s just take a moment to let the story settle… to take a deep breath, maybe have a sip of water…. to appreciate just how far we’ve come. …Now, uh, where was I… ? Oh, yes! Anyway; slowly but surely, I found my footing again. Our heads had been in the clouds long enough, and now I was pulling us both back to Earth, back into whatever passed for reality in this place. My thumbs gently stroked the back of Stanley’s hands; giving him something real to cling to. Giving my nervous hands something to do with themselves. And the moment I saw the tension leave his shoulders, I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. <You’re really here… > Stanley looked down at my hands and their irremovable gloves. Despite my fears, there was no rejection, no cruel mockery; just quiet fascination. Again, that same look, as his eyes moved up from there to my chest and to my face. And needless to say, it didn’t take an omniscient narrator to understand what his eyes were asking me. “Yes, Stanley. Go ahead.” Stanley reached out; I leaned my head into his hand this time, letting him know me through touch. And don’t you dare pass judgment - this is very hard for me to admit to - but it took everything I had not to burst into soppy tears all over again. We were old friends who’d just met. Two halves of the same soul, reunited at last. Surely a meeting like this was written on all the stars in the infinite cosmos, and upon every grain of sand in the- Stanley reached out a finger and ‘booped’ my nose. He laughed uproariously; not at me, but with me, as I somehow found a small chuckle growing into a full-on belly laugh. I just couldn’t help myself! This entire, bizarre situation we’d once again found ourselves in… the two of us so helpless, messy, and stupid... it felt so good to come so utterly undone. We were just a couple of total idiots, Stanley and I. Standing there and giggling like lunatics. And then… I found myself overcome by a strange impulse of my own. Seized by a brief moment of temporary insanity, perhaps. Taking a small step back, I opened my arms. Stanley didn’t hesitate for a single second. He fell into them like he was coming home; like he’d just had the longest work day in the universe, and someone had just presented him with the fluffiest feather bed in existence. Nearly bloody bowled me over again, with all his enthusiasm. But I looked down at Stanley - and he looked so happy, well... uh... you know what? I’ll give you the incomparable joy of picturing in your head just how happy he was. What?? No, I’m not lost for words! Me? Lost for words? Ugh, of all the… no, no, let’s not ruin this. This one right here is all yours. No, go ahead, take it. Don’t say I never do anything for you. But, ahem - to continue our scene, we were both sitting down now, right there on the ground. Stanley had his ear to my stomach, listening to whatever the hell liquid is in there slosh back and forth, as he rocked himself gently in place. There was no way he could realize how he was reminding me, with each slosh, of what I am. Of how I’ve changed. Of what I’ve lost. But for the first time since I could remember… I didn’t hate it. At least, not entirely. Perhaps I could get used to that, in enough time. Around us, the memory of birds sang, and the memory of a breeze gently rustled the memories of grass and flowers. Somewhere in the distance, a memory of a piano was playing itself - ah yes, I’d almost forgotten about that. Perhaps we’d see it later. Perhaps we’d sit on the bench I’d placed nearby, and look at the view. Perhaps talk to one another, instead of just at one another. Yes… that would be nice, wouldn’t it… But between Stanley and I; right here, and right now? There’s a glittering silence between us; one that outshines any other memory I’d care to rescue from the scrap heap. Things, I realize, are falling into place. As gentle as snow, as warm and welcome as the light of dawn. This, I can tell, is what I’ve been waiting for all this time; what I’ve been striving for, over and over, with each and every branching path. A perfect moment.

[ao3userwalkingonfirex]

Blog FAQ

What fandoms do you write? 

Exclusively bandom rpf, specifically All Time Low. It’s always going to be Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth (Jalex) slash, sometimes paired with Zack Merrick/Rian Dawson (Zian). Sometimes, I include the boys with others for narrative reasons, but Jalex is it for me. Lol. 

What genres do you write?

ANGST. Not so much death, but I like soap opera-levels of drama and pining. If it doesn’t include emotional pain and suffering, I don’t want it. I love a happy ending after a long whump, but that’s not always how my stuff goes. Open-ended endings are my favorite. I have written fluff a few times, but it’s just not my favorite. A lot of my fics are smutty, but I haven’t written kink before, and typically the smut is necessary for narrative purposes. Friendly reminder that this blog and my fics are NOT intended for minors and I strongly discourage minors from engaging with my content. 

What can I expect to see on this blog? 

Hopefully, writing asks, updates, musings, reblogs, and memes. I also like to wax poetic complain about writing in general, so there might be a few of those. Respectfully, this isn’t the place to discuss drama and tea about All Time Low, but you are more than welcome to send that over to my main blog. I’m also hoping to get some writing challenges here. 

Can I send requests? 

Not right now, sorry. I’m trying to finish a novel-length work that I’ve been writing and developing since before 2019 and I can’t really have any distractions until that’s done. Maybe some day. 

Do you have any formal training? 

I was an English and Creative Writing double major in college and I also have a Master’s Degree in Liberal Arts with a focus in English and Creative Writing. Some of my original fiction, nonfiction, and poetry have been published, but I don’t know that this is the place to share them. Lol. 

Where can I read your fics? 

AO3: walkingonfirex Mibba: walkingonfirex (inactive) Wattpad: walkingonfirex  I have other, older fics on some other sites, but they’re not about All Time Low, so I don’t see any reason to link them. Besides, a lot of those older fics are also still on my AO3 and Wattpad. If you’re curious, message me and I might tell you, but they’re pretty niche fandoms, so I can’t see why anyone would be interested. They’re also not hard to find lol. 

How can I support you?

Literally, just the fact that people read my silly little stories at all means the fucking world to me. However, kudos and comments are the absolute best way! I get overjoyed every time I get an ao3 notification in my email. That’s all I really need. Buuuut if you really want to do something more, you can buy me a ko-fi!

Thank you times one million to @ao3usermelancholyhues for letting me use her blog as inspiration!! Please follow her and read her stuff.

[teklarn]

I NEED A PART TWO FOR BAUKGOU’S AWKWARD CONFESSION!!

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓽. 2

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

a/n: k the first one kinda blew up and i've been on tumblr for like a week and it made me rly happy receiving the requests ty <33 thank u for all the reblogs too !! this is a bit later than i hoped it would come out b/c half of the original fic was deleted by accident, but i’m on summer break until sept 5 so hopefully i’ll still update frequently. 

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: lil angsty, fluffy at the end

warnings: cursing, one-sided pining, gave reader a quirk, the fighting scene is bs i cannot write action scenes at all im so sorry lol,  second hand embarrassment for our dearest dynamight :(

word count: 2507

pls don't mind any typos! i try to edit to the best of my ability but i tend to type fast and i might miss a few or a lot of things. 

- - -

read part one here my loves !!

you found yourself bored, cheeks puffing out as you swirled around the drink in your glass cup, sitting across from midoriya. he was muttering again, which you’d always found cute, however you weren’t listening this time at all. 

part of the reason you’d rejected bakugou was due to the fact midoriya had requested your attention first, and not as friends. if you’d told bakugou that, it would just wound his delicate ego on top of the fact that you truly had no interest in him whatsoever. 

at the moment, though, he was the only thing on your mind. there was no sudden spark of attraction you’d felt when he’d confessed. of course, anyone would find it flattering that the katsuki bakugou found you attractive. his standards were higher than the clouds. 

at the moment, it felt like something was blocking your chest from feeling something for him, however you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. 

“—it was amazing, right, y/n? y/n?” 

your eyes flickered up to meet the emerald, wide-eyed eyes of your friend. you contemplated lying, but it was no use. shaking your head softly and pursing your lips, you set your drink down. “i’m sorry, midoriya. i’m just kind of...out of it, i guess you could say?” 

he cocked his head to the side. “’out of it’?” he repeated. 

“yeah,” you sighed, head pounding. 

“is everything alright? maybe today isn’t the best time for this.” 

“yeah,” you agreed. “maybe.” 

“do you want to go back to the dorms?” 

you nodded, massaging your temples. “yeah, yeah let’s go home.” 

midoriya let out a soft chuckle through his nose, smiling. “alright.” he offered his hand, and you gladly let him heave you up. 

“i’m sorry about this. honestly, midoriya, i enjoy your company, i really do. but i never assumed you’d catch feelings for me too—” 

“too?” he blinked. the two of you continued on your way back to Heights Alliance. 

you gulped. “yeah, there’s—” 

“are you saying you caught feelings for me, as well?”

your eyes fell blank, lips parting in question. “no, uh. you know what? never mind.” you giggled gently in hopes the two of you would laugh it off without another thought. perhaps you should keep you and bakugou’s quiet interaction to yourself. midoriya and bakugou were already rivals enough. 

- 

the following week was agonizing in many ways. sitting beside bakugou guaranteed that you would get strange, judgmental looks. it never guaranteed his stolen glances. when you’d catch him staring, his cheeks would flare up, and you swore he had smoke puffing out his ears. 

each time, he looked as if he would explode. what can you expect from a guy like him? 

it was easy to assume you’d just pissed him off, though. you weren’t the type of person to tell everyone you’d been asked out, but you needed to speak to someone about it. the thought had been nagging you, stuck at the back of your mind but just on the tip of your tongue. 

you even found that you were distancing yourself from midoriya, who, after asking you out, had insisted you begin calling him izuku. over everyone else, you’d choose him to speak to about the matter, but ever since you’d discovered he had feelings all along, it was strange being around him. 

you viewed him differently. he shot you glimmering smiles and blushed softly when you said his first name. 

“y/n?” 

you twisted around to see mina rocking on her heels behind you. “yes?” 

“are you okay? you seem...how do i put this.” she tapped a pink finger against her lips. “off. you seem off. is everything alright?” 

your brows raised. “oh, yeah. i’m good. thanks for checking in.” 

“is there anything you want to talk about?” she adjusted her hero costume. you and the rest of the girls were currently changing for another training exercise. 

yaoyorozu fixed her hero costume. “i don’t mean to impose on anything, but i have to agree with mina, y/n. of course, there’s no pressure to tell us anything. you’re under no obligation to unless you need and want to talk to someone, but we’re here if you need us, okay?” 

you nodded, smiling softly. “thanks you guys.” 

- 

it was the same training as before, however you were able to select a partner of your own. being that there were 21 students in the class, there was always ought to be a group of three, or one person left out. you’d come into yuuei out of pure luck, as some like to put it. 

you’d found it offensive they’d assumed it was that and not your own pure skill. it’d taken a while to re-convince yourself that you were worthy of being in the class, even if you were usually the odd one out. 

most students had already bonded by the time you arrived here, so finding a partner wasn’t always easy. once you and midoriya had gotten close, you two did most things together, however at the moment, you weren’t quite feeling it. 

surprisingly, your eyes caught bakugou standing alone, eyes scanning the room for a partner. kirishima must have partnered up with another friend, then. it was always them together. 

unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough to avoid either of them. bakugou was already trotting up to you, eyes locked on your figure just as midoriya began jogging to your side. 

in perfect unison, they asked, “be my partner?” (in two very different tones, of course.) 

you blinked between them, about to answer when aizawa came up behind you three. 

“are you guys in the group of three?” your teacher deadpanned. 

your shoulders slumped. “yeah, i guess so.” 

“get to work. you’ve already wasted five minutes standing around.” 

you nodded politely. “yes, sensei.” 

you swallowed. bakugou’s crimson gaze was pinning you in your spot, and midoriya’s lips thinned with a lack of enthusiasm when bakugou looked back at him. 

“get to work, you three,” aizawa repeated, walking away. 

“i can take on both of you.” bakugou cracked his knuckles. 

you clenched your fists. “we already know you’re at the top of the class, bakugou. there’s no need to rub it in our faces.” 

he averted his eyes, cheeks flushing red. it was like a sad, silly way of letting you know you won this fight. 

“i’ll go against you two,” you said, adjusting your hero costume. 

midoriya’s eyes widened. “what? y/n, but—” 

“but i’m not strong enough?” you finished for him. you knew where they ranked in strength, and while yours was just as powerful, if you let one thing slip, your arrows would disappear and you’d be dust. “that’s exactly my point, you two are practically at the top of the class with your quirks.” 

“tch, don’t hold back,” bakugou said, readying himself. 

“don’t go easy on me,” you mocked. 

“y/n, do you really think this is a good idea—” before izuku could finish, you and bakugou launched yourselves at one another. 

you charged forwards. an arrow flew from your hand, twisting its way right through the smoke of an explosion. when it cleared, bakugou was nowhere to be seen. 

a gasp fell from your lips as you turned around just a little too late. your ears rang terribly as your back collided with the ground. 

izuku cried out. green lightning flashed, and he was at your side in a moment. “kacchan!”

you groaned, sitting up. bakugou cut through the smoke with an arm. “fight me, damned nerd. there aren’t any pauses in a real fight.” 

you wriggled yourself away from midoriya. “midoriya, you’re my enemy in this.” 

“bu—” 

“no buts. fight me. and don’t hold back.” 

midoriya noted the determination in your eyes and stood, giving you a sure nod. you were back on your feet in a second. bakugou flew in the air and came crashing down just as fast as he conjured a blast in his right hand. 

attacking wasn’t your best option right now. you were smart enough to know that. an arrow appeared flat at your back and pulled you from where bakugou was targeting. 

cement flew into the air. 

that blast could have wounded you badly. possibly killed you, if he’d hit the right spots. 

in the air, you examined their zealous features. midoriya’s brows were furrowed in that determined smolder. 

bakugou, as always, looked angry. as expected, he charged first, shooting himself into the air. his foot nearly collided with your face, missing my barely an inch. you took your shot, revealing the arrow you’d hidden behind your back. the tip collided with his chest. 

you left the arrow to complete its command and stick your blonde opponent to the wall and trap him there while you went after midoriya. 

while he bested you in strength, you did the same to him when it came to speed. you dodged his punches like they were weak attempts at hitting a ball in a park. 

you grinned. in a battle of strength and speed, whoever landed the first hit would win. there was no question. 

twisting in the air, you allowed the ball of your foot to shove midoriya to the ground. he cried out as his face was crushed into the cement. 

it was perfect timing, as bakugou ripped free of your hold, the arrow keeping him in one spot dissolving into air as soon as its purpose was lost. 

your head whipped around to see him charging for you. 

your fingers curled. the headache pounding at your temples was beginning to get hard to ignore. 

bakugou launched himself at you, spinning in the air like a missile. he really wasn’t going to howitzer you...right? 

when he didn’t slow down, you threw your body to the right, the attack just barely missing your leg. it scorched a bit of your thigh. a groan fell from your lips as you cupped the area around the burn, shuddering with pain. 

bakugou’s chest was puffed proudly as he marched up to you, hands cracking with excited explosions. 

he pulled back his right arm, ready to spark up another fight as midoriya recollected himself. you bit your lip to hide the fact you were quivering. 

it was sudden, but bakugou paused when he saw your hand fly up. 

“give me a minute...” you gasped out, skin still sizzling. 

“y/n! are you alright?” 

you didn’t respond. midoriya smacked his friend’s arm. “kacchan! what’re you thinking?”

“midoriya, i’m fine. don’t stress over it.” you limped to your feet, rejecting the extended hand from your green-haired friend. “i’ll just go see recovery girl.” 

“do you need—” 

you smacked midoriya’s hand away, a little bit more rude than you intended it to be. “i’ll be...fine.” you offered a weak smile to hopefully make up for your tiny outburst. 

although you could see in his eyes he wanted to help, midoriya nodded and stood by, hand falling back to his side. you clutched around the patch of burned skin. the sting had faded a bit, however there was a soreness to the wound that felt like a constant stabbing to your leg. 

you swallowed the pain down, marching towards the exit with determination and a bit of a limp.

you looked back to see midoriya had gone off to tell mr. aizawa what was going on. your teacher nodded, understandingly. 

there were a few worried glances and offers for help in the hall, but you’d neglected them all and found yourself relieved to see recovery girl in her office, typing away. 

she turned as the door opened. “please knock beforehand next time—oh, dear. y/n? are you alright?” 

you gave a tense nod. “mhm. just got a bit banged up in training today.” 

the old woman pursed her lips, smile lines becoming evident. “i see.” she led you to the small cot reserved for patients such as yourself and directed you to sit down. 

she examined the bruise. “it’s fairly bad. what happened?” 

you made a gesture to the door. “i was brawling with bakugou and things got...intense.” 

“that boy has quite an extreme side to him, as i’ve come to notice.” 

“mhm,” you agreed. 

“unfortunately, y/n, i have no ointments to be able to treat this properly.” 

you nodded sheepishly before the old woman smooched your cheek. a soft green glow radiated around you. 

when she pulled back, she said, “now, your body will be trying to catch up on the healing process. that’s what my quirk does. speed up recoveries. since it’s sped up, you’ll require some rest, preferably sleep. i’ll make sure your teachers know you’re excused for the rest of the day, sound good?” 

“yes, thank you recovery girl.” 

she pushed herself out of her rolling chair and left the room, smiling at you.

your eyes fluttered shut not long after that. 

- 

the sun was gone when you woke up, the hallway light flickering off. 

“good, you’re awake.” 

you looked to the left. you cried out, gathering the white sheets around yourself despite being completely clothed. “bakugou! what the hell? you stalker! you creep!” 

bakugou took the slap you gave him on his arm. it was light, and didn’t do much damage. 

“what...what do you want?” 

even in the dark, you could tell bakugou’s cheeks were burning red. “about...about the other day. i wanted to talk to you about it.” 

your chest fluttered in unwanted hope. “there’s nothing to talk about.” 

“dammit, y/n, i wish there wasn’t anything to talk about. you’re insufferable and annoying and i can’t stand being around you because no matter what’s going on, you make my chest feel all funny. it’s stupid, and i can’t take my eyes off of you.” 

heat rushed to your cheeks. “i’m flattered, really. but i-” 

“i’m not asking you to reciprocate my shitty feelings. if anything, it’s better if you don’t.” 

“bakugou, i wasn’t...” you paused. 

“you what?” he snapped, voice soft despite his tone. 

“i was going to say that ever since you...ever since you asked me out, i’ve been conflicted about my own feelings.” 

“the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“i’m not sure if i like you back or not, bakugou. but hearing you say all this...makes me want to give it a shot. sort of. also, why the hell are you watching me sleep?” 

bakugou swept hair from his eyes. “don’t go and try to change the subject on me, dumbass.” 

you gulped. 

“so what’re you saying?” 

“i’m saying,” you started, “i’m saying that maybe i want to go out on that date with you.” 

“say it again.” 

“what?” you looked up, his eyes boring into yours. 

“i said i want you to say it again. tell me you want to go out on a date with me.” 

it startled you how sure he was when he knew what you wanted, too. this was unlike the last attempt to ask you out. 

“katsuki bakugou, i want to go on a date with you.” 

he grinned. “where to?”

[swaps55]

Hi swaps! You've mentioned in the past that Sonata was meant to be an AU - when did and what made you decide that it was going to be canon?

You are correct!! Sonata was supposed to be a silly, one-shot crack!fic AU.

Whoops.

So, what happened is this: I started writing Cantata in 2019, but I hadn't written much in a while, and I was rusty. So I was doing a lot of...throwing spaghetti at a wall. But while a lot of pieces of Opus were still very malleable, there were a few things I knew for sure, and this was one of them:

I was setting up a long-haul slow burn, with epic levels of pining that would never quite turn into something spoken out loud until ME3, when in mid-tender embrace, Sam would ask the question, "Do you love me?" And Kaidan would reply, "I have loved you for eight years."

THAT WAS THE PLAN. I was committed to this plan.

I'd written the first chapter of Cantata and chunks of what became Million Little Pieces, Dance With Darkness and Carry On, but I had zero narrative tension working in any of those scenes, and quite honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. Then I started working on The Things We've Done. I had them stranded on Sharjila, Sam in bad shape, and they were upset with each other. But I had no idea what landed them there, or why they were angry at each other. Basically, when I put myself in a position that forced some narrative tension, I couldn't fucking figure out what the tension was. I didn't know enough about what made them tick to get the pieces to fit into place.

So, I was frustrated, but still all aflutter about this slow burn pinefest, and in a fit of giddiness I said fuck it, and reblogged a post about tropes like fake dating and oh no, there's only one bed! And dared someone to ask me to write one of them.

@makoparkingonly took the dare for fake dating, and a few days later I had an out of control freight train I couldn't steer careening off the tracks.

I was dead set on keeping it an AU. There was no way this ridiculous premise could be canon for these two people. Nope. No way.

But what changed my mind was the character development. The friendship that formed between Joker and Tali, and the confiding Sam did with Liara, the progress Kaidan made with his parents, and the gut wrenching tenderness and care Sam and Kaidan gave each other felt so genuine, and so important to them as characters, that I couldn't bear to take it back. All the trouble I was having figuring out what made them tick for Cantata? I found it in Sonata. I figured out Sharjila, and where they found both friction and understanding. I understood how important they were to each other.

They did all of that, all on their own, and it just felt cruel to pretend it never happened.

So I embraced it, and my OTP, the two very smart and capable people I have now written well probably over 300k words for, canonically get together via a fake dating scheme and I have to take it seriously. Like, I wrote these sentences in Fugue, as a serious person, taking fake dating seriously:

“Joker said something about my mother being part of their task force to shove the two of us together.”

Shepard chuckles, covering his face with his free hand. “Fuck. Do you think she knew the truth?”

“That we were letting her believe we were together when we weren’t? I don’t know how. But I intend to strangle our pilot to find out.”

But I stand by it, with no regrets. XD

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Going back home {Chapter 2}

Summary: Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Claire Beck

wordcount: 2k

Warnings: pregnancy hormones, pining

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

“You know your childhood home is for sale?” Claire sat on the patio next to Pope who had decided to catch up with her.

“Seriously?” she asked and he nodded.

“Yeah. It looks bad though.”

“Like every house in this area that’s currently on sale,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah there are not many people moving down here, though there seem to be getting more in the last few years.”

“I mean it’s beautiful here,” she let her eyes wander over the landscape. She had always loved it here. Whole summers were spent on the Morales ranch when she was younger. Could have to do with the fact that Pa’ Morales made the best BBQ ever.

“Yeah it is. Better for your girl to grow up here, than in the big city huh?” he asked. She looked at Pope. He had gotten older. The lines around his eyes deeper than before. He always loved to laugh.

“Yeah. Though I didn’t picture it like that. I…” she sighed, feeling silly for the tears in her eyes. Fucking hormones.

“Hey. It’s okay. You gonna be fine,” his hand came down on her knee, squeezing it in comfort.

“Yeah you all keep saying that but it’s not you who has to push a baby out of your vagina without the father being there. It’s not you who has the responsibility to take care of a helpless kid for the rest of your life. I just… why? Why does he get to decide to walk out of this? It’s my pill that apparently didn’t work but it was him fucking me without a condom. He should take the responsibility just as much as I have to. Fuck…” she let her head fall back.

“Fuck him,” she looked up, hearing Frankie’s voice.

“Fuck him. He’s an excuse of a man. You don’t walk away from the woman you love. From the woman who’s carrying your child. Fuck… I was going through rehab while Liz was pregnant and I didn’t walk out…” he kneeled down next to her. She sucked her bottom lip in.

“I just feel so… so…” she shook her head.

“I know. But you’re not alone. You got me,” he looked at her. He was planning on taking her out for lunch when he walked in.

“But it’s not your job to take care of me Frankie. You got your own family.”

“You are family,” Pope said, now standing behind Frankie. “And if you want us to kill him, just say the word,” he teased and she had to laugh at that before she looked at Frankie again.

“I told you. You don’t want a hormonal woman living with you,” she joked and Frankie chuckled.

“I can take living with a hormonal woman,” he reached up to brush away her tears.

“Now what do you say? Lunch?” he asked and she sighed before she nodded.

“I gotta head out. But i’ll bring the house offers I found over tonight, okay?” Pope asked and she nodded. He smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek before he left.

“I mean it. You’re family. Don’t ever think you’re a burden or alone. We’re here for you. I am here for you, okay?” Frankie said. Claire breathed in deep and nodded.

“Gotta get used to people caring. I was pretty lonely the last few years I guess.”

“Yeah. Better get used to it quickly,” he winked before he helped her out of the seat.

“Gotta get dressed I guess,” she shrugged.

“And I gotta shower. I can smell myself.”

“Yeah. You stink,” she grinned before she walked past him, leaving Frankie head shaking on the patio.

“Lunch is on you,” he called after her and she gave him the finger, making him laugh before he followed her inside to take a shower.

“So what made you open up a gardening business of all things, Morales?” she asked, sitting in the old diner they used to spend so much time in when they were younger. It might be lunch time but she couldn’t wait to have her ordered pancakes.

Frankie shrugged.

“I like being outside, keeps my mind off things.”

“You any good?” Claire teased and Frankie huffed.

“Let’s just say if you need any gardening I won’t be able to help you before the end of the year,” he winked.

“Impressive. I’m happy for you. Even though I still wanna hear the story as to what exactly happened in the last two years…” she said quietly, hearing Frankie sigh.

“Only when you tell me your story.”

She sighed and smiled sadly.

“We have a lot to talk about huh?” she asked.

“Yeah. But in time. Now we gotta eat and then we got to head to the store. Still need some stuff for the BBQ.”

“Fuck how many people are coming to this BBQ? I only have like 5 friends left here and I already met 4 of them,” Clarie groaned, leaning over the shopping cart as Frankie loaded another six pack of beer in.

“Pope kinda invited everyone over he knows so you can get to know everyone.”

“Because I like hanging out with people so much?” she asked, letting her head hang, earning a chuckle from Frankie.

“You and me both. But they’re all okay. Promise,” he squeezed her shoulder in comfort and she smiled a little, bumping her shoulder against his as he came to stand next to her.

“So what else do we need?”

“I got everything. Anything you need?”

“Ice cream?” Claire asked after thinking about it. Frankie only nodded as he grabbed the cart from her and pushed it towards the freezers with the ice cream. Like he had done it a million times before he walked towards the freezer, picking up Claire’s favorite Mint & Chocolate Chip ice cream and threw it in the cart.

“Still your favorite?” he asked as he saw the surprise in her face. She only nodded, a small smile playing at her lips.

“But pick up the mango ice dream too. Been craving that lately,” she grinned and Frankie nodded only before he reached for the biggest container.

The car ride to Frankie’s was quiet, both of them hanging on to their thoughts. It was strange how they seemed to fall back into their old dynamic as if no time had passed. It made Claire aware of just how much time she had spent with him when she was younger.

“This house is for sale,” Frankie said quietly as he stopped in front of the house just down his road.

“Charming…” Claire made a face and Frankie laughed. With lots of imagination she could see herself living here. But not within the next 4 months. This would be harder than she thought it would be.

“Maybe I should have stayed in New York…” she groaned to herself, her head falling back against the seat. She felt a hand on her thigh, her head tilting towards Frankie, unable to see his eyes behind his dark aviators.

“It’s been one day since you got here. We gonna find a house for you,” he squeezed her thigh and she sighed before she looked out of the window again. Frankie felt a weird feeling wash over him, his eyes dropping to the swell of her belly, before he released his hand from her to bring it back to the steering wheel, driving the car the short distance to his farm. A part of him wondered if the choices he made earlier in his life could have prevented some of the stuff he had gone through. Maybe he should have at least tried to go to college. Maybe he would have had a job that wouldn’t have required him leaving for months at the time. Maybe he would have had the guts to tell Claire that he wanted to be more than friends before he left for basic training. But he had found out that she had slept with Santiago, shattering all kinds of hope he might have had, that there was something more between them. To this day he wasn’t sure if maybe there had been more all these years back. He had always been too scared to tell Claire, scared that this would ruin their friendship. A friendship he had missed in the last years. He had wasted years on sleeping with women he never called after until it was a woman, Liz, calling him to tell him that she was pregnant. And he tried to make it work, he really did. A part of him loved Liz, because she was the mother of his child. But that was nothing compared to how he felt when he looked at Claire.

“Is it okay if I take a nap? I’m dead on my feet,” Claire asked as he stopped the car. He blinked at her, so lost in his thoughts. She yawned and he found himself smiling at her.

“Of course. As long as you make your guacamole later?”

She laughed, shaking her head with an eye roll.

“Wake me in two hours?”

“You got it,” he got out of the car, opening the door for her, helping her out. He had noticed her struggling to get out of his truck before.

“Thank you Frankie,” she kissed his cheek before she turned around to walk towards the door. He looked after her until she disappeared inside the house, shaking his head to himself.

“Get it together, Morales,” he whispered to himself before he unloaded the car and got inside himself.

Claire was in the middle of explaining to Frankie how to open an Avocado without killing himself worked, when the door flew open and the Miller brother’s barged inside.

“You got problems with your pipes?” Ben grinned at Claire and she snorted.

“In your Dreams, Miller,” she seasoned the avocados. Frankie shook his head.

“Come on, I show you my pipes,” Frankie teased, making Ben gag while Claire laughed loudly.

“You okay Claire?” Will asked, sitting down at the kitchen island in front of her, after he put the steaks in the fridge. Claire sighed.

“Didn’t think it would be this hard, but Frankie’s a big help,” she smiled a little, tasting the guacamole she was making. She reached for more salt.

“Yeah, he’s awesome. But be gentle with him. The whole custody thing is still pretty fresh,” Will said quietly.

“He hasn’t talked to me about it.”

“He will, I’m sure he will. Just… I mean you probably know him better than I do…”

“I’m gonna take care of him. Promise,” she whispered with a soft smile and Will seemed relieved as he nodded at her.

“Miss Beck. Your pipe problem has been solved,” Ben announced coming back soaked through his shirt back into the kitchen. Claire tilted his head, nodding approvingly at the muscles she could see through his white shirt before she looked up into his eyes with a teasing grin.

“I’ll make sure to preach about your plumbing services, Mr. Miller,” she winked and could swear she saw him blush for a second.

“Enough with the puns, we got a BBQ to prepare. Claire your shower is working,” Frankie emerged from the hallway, pulling a fresh shirt over his head and now it was Claire’s turn to blush before she became very invested in the guacamole in front of her while trying not to think about Frankie’s sunkissed skin on his chest, the little tummy or the dark trail of hair she most certainly didn’t want to lick.

She didn’t see Will’s knowing look before he got up from the seat to follow his brother outside.

Claire was so focused on the guacamole she only saw Frankie’s hand in the last second, slapping it away as he tried to steal a taste of the guacamole.

“Mean,” he pouted.

“Good things come to those who wait,” she grinned before she picked up the bowl to put it into the fridge, bending down to open the freezer for her mango ice cream. Frankie bit his lip as his eyes wandered down her body, averting his eyes before she turned around.

Fuck he wished that good things would be coming to those who waited.

Chapter 3

[crispyjenkins]

fic with ahsoka as Obi-Wans Padawan? Maybe some angsty jangobi? (Used to be together but broke up and now they pine from afar™️)

(i’m devastated that i don’t get to write ahsoka much, especially as obi’s padawan, so that an anon would come into my inbox.... and request jangobi on top of it..... seriously, though, thank you! can’t say i wasn’t inspired by @autumnchild22’s Kenobi Tano AU, but this doesn’t share almost anything with their take of events (ノ*´◡`) i’m flattered y’all thought i could do something of theirs justice lmao

i have written entirely too much backstory for this one, i think my brainstorming ended up longer than the actual fic so like. rip. 

support artists and writers by reblogging, message me for more info if this confuses you!)

  It surprises everyone except Obi-Wan that not only does Jango join the clones on the front lines, but he does so as the ARC troopers’ medic. That the son of the Mand’alor murdered by the Jedi would allow his kid to be apprenticed by a lifetime Council member is already hard enough for the galaxy at large to swallow; believing that the man who had at once been the most feared bounty hunter in the Outer Rim wouldn’t even ask for a command position? Impossible.

  Obi-Wan knows better. Just as Obi-Wan had picked up Soresu because he could not protect his master on Naboo, Jango had learned to put people back together because he could not save his buir on Korda 6. 

  Besides, Obi-Wan thinks Mace is a wonderful match for little Boba, even though he’s joining the Jedi older than even Anakin had been. Knowing Mace was among the Jedi to liberate the spice freighter Jango had been sold to, and that he had continued to check in on Jango for years after he got his armor back, Obi-Wan actually finds it rather silly that others on the Council had thought Jango would trust Boba to anyone else. 

  Which does leave Obi-Wan in quite the predicament, when less than a year after Anakin's knighting, Mace sends him a new padawan in the middle of a campaign. 

  Ahsoka smiles with all canines, and calls Anakin Skyguy, and has to be tricked into wearing more armor because, according to Cody, she is "not to take the General's lack of self-preservation as the status quo, nor as the basis for field safety." Which, rude, Obi-Wan wears plenty of armor when the situation calls for it; he simply doesn't find many situations where plasteel has kept his men or the Jedi from dying horribly.

  Letting Ahsoka gallivant around a battlefield in a tube-top without even a cloak, however, is out of the question, and Obi-Wan thinks Waxer does a brilliant job in sizing down the armor to fit their collective padawan over the next few months. Force, had Anakin really been younger than she when he first started taking him on missions?

  "Master?"

  Obi-Wan blinks, and smiles down at Ahsoka standing next to him, his apprentice looking quite dashing in the orange paint of the 212th. "Sorry, my dear, what were you saying?"

  She shrugs, eyeing him suspiciously. "'Was just asking if we would be working with the ARC troopers on Kiros; Captain Fordo said he would show me how to use a blaster rifle next time they were on the Negotiator."

  The Kaminoans intended for a few ARC troopers to be sent with each battalion, but it had quickly become clear that Jango had not trained them that way. Instead, he had raised and created a strike team so efficient, it would have been a waste to separate them; Obi-Wan knows Jango had hand-picked them from cadets, had searched for a spark in them that the Kaminoans hadn't already snuffed out completely. Jango had been like that once, too.

  "I would be surprised if we didn't," Obi-Wan decides on, turning back to observe the 212th loading into the Negotiator, and he would be, because the ARCs are often deployed with Obi-Wan’s men, have been since the Battle of Kamino. "But I have not heard anything from Master Shaak Ti, nor Captain Fordo as of yet."

  Ahsoka scrunches up her face into a pout, an amusing show of her age that she usually does not allow. "We'll probably get halfway through the mission and they'll just show up."

  Obi-Wan chuckles. “Hm, yes, probably,” he agrees, starting to make his way down to the hangar to join his men with Ahsoka trotting along behind, “but perhaps I can convince Captain Fordo not to surprise us too badly this time.”

-

  When the ARC troopers finally storm the Kadavo Processing Facility with Anakin and the Jedi on their heels, the warden Agruss is already dead.

  The sudden swell of Jedi presence is nearly blinding after a month of helplessness, but Obi-Wan can't tap out, not yet. Rex, satisfied and vindictive and relieved, sways dangerously and automatically reaches out to Obi-Wan to steady himself. 

  That Rex trusts him enough to not even think about rank before asking for help warms Obi-Wan in ways he doesn't yet have the words for — he wraps Rex's arm around his shoulders and takes half his weight happily.

  "Thank you," Obi-Wan finds himself murmuring as he helps Rex towards the doors, and only smiles at the captain's bemused expression. 

  "Whatever for, General?" he asks, even as he looks back over their shoulders across the room, to Agruss impaled to his chair with the electrostaff still sparking. Then he returns Obi-Wan’s smile, shaking his head. "That's not very Jedi-like of you, sir."

  "I'm afraid I haven't felt much a Jedi since Kiros, my dear." Which is perhaps too honest to allow himself before he's had a proper meal and a full night's rest, but if there is anyone who will understand, it is the man that lived it with him. "We could wait up here for Anakin to find us, but it will likely be a while before they can spare him to start looking; do you think you can keep your feet long enough for us to reach the ground floor?"

  Rex snorts and gives a vague wave of his free hand towards the elevators. "Well, I'm certainly not going to wait up here like some damsel, sir, and General Skywalker would kill me if I let you wander around on your own."

  "Well!" Obi-Wan laughs, for the first time in weeks, and hitches Rex up to get a better grip on his waist. "In that case, we really should not keep him waiting."

  They somehow time it perfectly for what the 187th and the 501st to have just finished rounding up the slavers in the courtyard when he and Rex hobble out of a side door of the warden's tower. Lieutenant Law oversees the Togrutas' move to Mace’s flagship Solace, and Obi-Wan easily picks him and Boba out from the crowd, standing at the base of the loading ramp and speaking with the Kiros colony's governor. Anakin is nowhere to be seen, but Obi-Wan doesn't get the chance to keep looking before Kix spots them from his place by the medical frigate; a shout passes over the nearby clones like a wave, until Kix and an ARC trooper break away to (gently) manhandle both him and Rex to the frigate. 

  The 187th's medic, Oro, is already on board seeing to the Togrutas too injured to wait for triage on the Solace, snapping a distracted salute that Obi-Wan quickly waves off as he helps heft Rex onto a hoverbed. He fully intends to duck back out and check in with Mace, though things seem well in hand without him, but the ARC with Kix takes off his helmet and glares, until Obi-Wan meekly shuffles to the next hoverbed over.

  He could never refuse Jango, after all. 

  "You repainted your armor," he says conversationally, as Jango pulls a scanner from the bandoleer around his chest and has Obi-Wan roll up his right sleeve. 

  "'Lost the last set to a sarlacc before our deployment to Kiros," Jango snorts, Concord Dawn accent stronger than any of his clones. "Though it looks like your mission had its fair share of excitement." Running the scanner over the electrical burns on Obi-Wan’s arm, Jango raises an eyebrow at the dried blood on the shoulder of his tunics; Obi-Wan honestly doesn't remember if it's his or not.

  And he can only smile at Jango, because even with a decade and a war between them, the corner of Jango's mouth still twitches when he's stressed. "Well, it certainly wasn't boring, my dear," Obi-Wan says, opening the neck of his tunic enough for Jango to stick him with a hypospray that hopefully won't make him too high. "And I can't say I'm looking forward to what is surely going to be a long dip in the bacta tank."

  He gets a laugh for that, and can't think of the last time they had done more than make eye contact from opposite sides of a ship. Perhaps it had been Kamino, when Taun We had first sent for the Jedi to meet the army created for them. 

  Obi-Wan had rather thought Jango dead until then, when he had disappeared from the galaxy abruptly as if he had never lived in it at all. For a time, Obi-Wan believed he had just gotten cold feet, that finally meeting Anakin made it all a little too personal too quickly, but then even Mace could not get a hold of him and no one had seen a Mandalorian bounty hunter in months.

  Their... conversation, Jango's stilted explanations of his absence and of how little he actually knew about the purpose for the clones he helped create, left far too much unsaid, but then Obi-Wan had been sent to Geonosis and, well. It's been nearly two years now, and Obi-Wan isn't sure if he's even seen Jango without his helmet since then. 

  His eyes flick over Obi-Wan’s face, the left side of his lips twitching as if knowing exactly what Obi-Wan is thinking — and he might not put it past him. 

  "Where are Anakin and Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan hears himself ask, when the silence grows heavy with those unsaid words. And he really would like to check in with his padawan, he can't imagine her last month has been a picnic either.

  Jango sticks him with another stim before answering, "Mace sent Skywalker to make sure no slave is missed, and no slaver isn't arrested. As for your new foundling..." That little smile comes back, as Jango nods out the back of the frigate to where someone is cutting a line through the clones guarding their new prisoners. 

  "Oh dear," Obi-Wan mumbles, barely having time to brace himself before Ahsoka is launching herself at him, and all he can think is how relieved he is to see her out of her slave disguise. Jango steps cleanly out of the way to let Ahsoka smother herself in Obi-Wan’s chest, though it doesn’t stop him from starting to prep bacta patches to tide him over until they can get to the Negotiator’s medbay.

  “Hello, little one,” Obi-Wan murmurs, carefully loosening the tight net of his shields for the first time since Zygerria and letting Ahsoka’s presence flood his mind. 

  “It’s good to see you, Master ‘Nobi,” she says into his tunics, and her voice does not waver at all.

  He manages a chuckle, though it does not hold nearly as well as Ahsoka’s, as he feels himself finally relax. Anakin, of course, senses the both of them immediately and prods at their minds, but neither Obi-Wan nor his padawan acknowledge him. “I take it the Queen is dead?”

  Ahsoka sighs and pulls back enough to nod. “Count Dooku was there, Skyguy barely got us all out.”

  “That was a week ago,” Jango adds, not looking up from the datapad he’s logging Obi-Wan’s injuries into. “Even with the Queen giving us the location of the Processing Facility, we had to wait for the 187th to catch up.”

  Running his palm from the top of her head down her hind lek, Ahsoka melts back against him with a Togruta churr he rarely has the pleasure of hearing from her. “Hm, and I imagine Boba was thrilled to work with the ARC troopers.”

  Jango snorts, because they both know Boba is thirteen and his rebellious stage where he wants nothing to do with his father for fear of losing his independence. “Originally, the 104th was the closest battalion, but were held up in their own campaign. ‘Honestly didn’t think we could keep Skywalker from rushing in anyways.”

  And Obi-Wan has to wince at that, because no matter what he does, he can’t seem to find a way to teach Anakin about attachment in words he understands; truthfully, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have had him knighted until he had at least attempted to master that part of his mind, but, well, the War had different opinions.

  “I’m actually just surprised he didn’t try to fight Dooku,” Ahsoka admits, finally releasing Obi-Wan only to hop up on the hoverbed next to him. Jango immediately pulls Obi-Wan’s bare arm back to himself to start slapping the bacta patches over the worst of his burns. “Master Windu had a talk with him, though, I think it was good for him.”

  “I’d like to see that!” Jango barks, only half sarcastically: he knows better than most, the sorts of things Mace Windu can talk someone out of, and if it worked for one ex-slave, why shouldn’t it work on another?

  Ah, perhaps that shared history should not have slipped Obi-Wan’s mind, not here with thousands of freed slaves needing aid for injuries Jango is intimately familiar with.

  “And are you alright?” he asks before he can talk himself out of it, as Jango is cutting his sleeve further back. His brow ticks back up, clearly bewildered by what Obi-Wan could be referring to, but it’s Ahsoka that leans around Obi-Wan to sniff triumphantly up at Jango.

  “I told you he still likes you,” she says, and Jango’s hand freezes on Obi-Wan’s wrist.

  Obi-Wan sighs. “Ahsoka.”

  But instead of denying that he might have actually had such a conversation with Obi-Wan’s padawan, Jango coughs on a laugh. “So you did, edee. To be fair, I did not think that was the issue.”

  Ahsoka rolls her eyes, leaning back into Obi-Wan’s side as he automatically raises his arm to accommodate her. “He thinks he lost his chance, Master ‘Nobi,” she tells him. “Even Cody thinks he’s full of banthashit.”

  Where Obi-Wan feels a little shell-shocked by the turn in conversation, Jango simply keeps that tiny smile — even if it looks bittersweet and self-deprecating now. “Your foundling has spent the last week talking me in circles about this, I almost think she’s as stubborn as you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, I think,” Obi-Wan returns, sarcasm an automatic, subconscious response. 

  “I wouldn’t need to talk you in circles if you two just talked to each other.”

  Shaking his head in bemusement, Obi-Wan gently fixes Ahsoka’s slika beads to lay properly around her montrals. “I’m afraid there’s quite a lot of history there, little one; most of which I’m sure Jango did not actually share with you.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “No, he refuses to tell me anything except that you met on a mission. And that he saved your ass from Jabba the Hutt.”

  Obi-Wan snaps his eyes to Jango, who looks absolutely anywhere but at him. “Is that how you remember it going, my dear?”

  “Could we do this later?”

  “Because if I recall correctly, and I do, this is not the first time you’ve lost your armor to a sarlacc.”

  Jango looks to the ceiling for patience. 

-

Mando'a: buir — “parent”, gender neutral  Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore. edee — “teeth”, “jaws”, used here as an affectionate name for Ahsoka. because she teeth.

[mortedeveles]

Can I ask for a mha headcanon with bakugou, tenya & izuku with a crush/so who's short, chubby and is very quiet & cold when they first meet, but when they start getting to know them they're actually goofy, sarcastic and very caring/cuddly (they were just super anxious when they first met the boys) I hope this isn't too confusing or too much ^^" 👉👈

thanks for requesting sweet anon! your request is perfectly fine! i hope you like it <3 on another note, if you’ve sent me a request and I haven’t responded, please send it again or DM me! i think Tumblr has been eating asks lately.. ;vv. 

these are my first headcannons, I hope they’re not too bad :(  what do you think? are they too informal/formal? too short/long? feel free to let me know! i made bakuhoe’s kinda long, i hope you don’t mind! MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN, THEY WILL CLOSE ON THE 16TH! as always, please leave a like, reblog, comment and/or follow if you enjoyed! <33 

PAIRING: Bakugou K. x gn!reader, Tenya I. x gn!reader, Izuku M. x gn! reader

Themes: pining, humor. [HEADCANNONS]

TW: cursing? i don’t think anything else. 

BAKUGOU, TENYA, IZUKU WITH A CRUSH!reader (HEADCANNONS)

When you enrolled in U.A High, you were extremely nervous. What if you weren't fit to be a Pro Hero? At the entrance exam, there were so many other students, you felt queasy at the sight of so much potential.

You went through so many insecure thoughts and fleeting moments of panic before school started. What if they didn't like you? How would you even make friends? Would they be easy going or cold and distant? When school finally started, you were in for a surprise.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI 

As we all know, Katsuki was a prideful asshole at the beginning of the school year. He barely paid attention to anyone and you weren't an exception- Kirishima and the Bakusquad were the only ones who'd managed to befriend him. And even then, they would always get on his nerves.

Don't get me wrong, he knew you existed. But he didn't really pay much attention to you until the mids of the first year. The first time he interacted with you was during a fighting assignment- the two of you had been paired together, you were to engage in combat and see how your quirks worked against each other and together.

Bakugou noticed that you had a strong quirk- you weren't any extra. With your quirk Liquify, you actually managed to make him sweat and feel tired- you had a good grasp on your quirk.  He didn't mind working with you, he had noticed that you tended to be quiet and distant and barely talked to him if it wasn't school-related- so he thought you were alright. Katsuki preferred a silent partner than a loud and noisy one like dunceface.

However, he was slightly thrown off guard when he spotted you with Todoroki, Tsuyu, and a few others of the class, laughing together and blabbering about nonsense. He had never seen you laugh or smile around him. Your face was shining with joy-  he could see so many emotions in your expression- a startling contrast to your usual stoic or grimacing face.

Bakugou didn't care, right? The two of you were just study partners, nothing more. He didn't care about how you acted around him.

...Right?

He couldn't convince himself with his own words.

The more time the two of you worked together, the more you opened up. It was a pleasant change. Katsuki noticed how you would smile when you thought he wasn't looking or that you'd occasionally chatter with him during the fighting and reply sarcastically to his remarks.  

Seeing you smile and laugh around him felt nice- his heart always skipped a beat when your lips tugged upwards.

He told himself it was nothing. He didn't like you or anything...he just liked seeing you smile. That's what he kept telling himself day after day, refusing to acknowledge his feelings for you.

''Bakugou, do you choose truth or dare?''

It wasn't until Class 1A decided to have a sleepover with all the boys and girls (minus Mineta, they kicked him out of the building for the night) and played a popular game called Truth or Dare that he finally acknowledged his feelings for you.

It was Mina's turn, and Katsuki didn't like the evil glint in her eyes. He felt his heart crawl up to his throat when Mina smiled at him.

He swallowed, clenching his fists at his side. Ever since he was paired with you, Katsuki had noticed how Mina's gaze lingered on the two of you. What was she planning? Was Mina going to force him to do something- kiss you? He felt his ears burn at the thought. After an awkward moment of silence, Bakugou spoke up.

''Truth,'' he said gruffly. Hopefully, she wouldn't ask what he was thinking.

Mina squealed in delight. She clasped her hands together. ''Bakugou,'' she spoke slowly but firmly, her face contorting into a serious expression. ''Do you like Y/N?''

''Hah?!'' he immediately snapped. His ears and cheeks burned red and small sparks snapped from his palms. Bakugou could hear snickers and squeals from the rest of his classmates but refused to look at them. 

''What kind of question is that?!"

After a few moments, Bakugou grumbled a 'yes', but no one heard him, so Mina taunted him into speaking louder.

Mina giggled, shooting you a knowing glance. Bakugou wanted to look at you- what were you thinking?- but his fear of rejection willed him to keep his burning gaze on Mina.

''You heard me,'' the pink girl replied with a grin. ''Is Y/N your crush? Don't lie to me. You have to say the truth!''

''YES! GOD FUCKING DAMNIT, I LIKE Y/N, OKAY?!"

Everyone was silent at his outburst. With a growl, he glanced at you. His face felt like it was on fire- and much to his surprise, you were as flustered as him- but you offered him a timid smile. He relaxed at your smile and felt his heart flutter. You liked him back.

TENYA IIDA

As class president, Iida felt the responsibility of reaching out with all of his classmates. He wasn't particularly close with everyone, but he made sure to be friendly and supportive.

You were a different case. Despite his attempts to converse with you, Iida had noticed that you were quite distant and cold. At first, he was startled but eventually brushed it off. Maybe it was just your behavior, similar to Todoroki's.

Even though you were quite closed off, Iida refused to surrender.

He had seen you briefly interact with other classmates such as Tokoyami and Ochaco, and you were far more comfortable with them, smiling and even laughing with them. This could've discouraged him but instead, it made him feel motivated to get you to be comfortable with him. 

After Iida had a sparring match with Todoroki, you approached him. 

‘‘Not bad,’‘ you said. Your face was stoic- but the fact that you were complimenting him made him smile. ‘‘Your sparring skills are improving.’‘ 

Iida bowed down so low he nearly touched the ground. ‘’Thank you, Y/N-chan!” he exclaimed.

 Eventually, the two of you became comfortable friends, but Iida was still the goody two shoes he's always been. Whenever you were acting improper or out of line, he was always there to keep you in check, scolding you with his loud and long speeches.

At first, his scoldings irked you but you eventually warmed up to them. One time, your uniform was too tight/short (it was the last pair you had clean!) and when you greeted Iida, his face reddened.

''Y/N-chan!'' he exclaimed, waving his hands in the air. ''Your uniform doesn't abide by the school uniform's guidelines! You are a very beautiful person but-,'' his face turned even redder and he swallowed nervously. ''Your presentation is improper!''

After his rant, he breathed heavily and was surprised when he heard you laughing softly. You rarely showed emotions around him- only a few small smiles and chuckles, but never a laugh.

''Oh, Iida-kun!'' you said with a teasing grin. ''It's my only clean uniform pair!'' you pouted and Iida swallowed nervously. ''I'll make sure to dress properly next time! Thanks for letting me know.'' you pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek and walked away with a mischievous grin, leaving him a blushing mess.

Iida grew fond of your jokes- they were silly, but always made him smile. Around you, Iida grew at ease. He had acknowledged that he had romantic feelings for you, but wasn’t quite sure how to tell you. It wasn’t a concerning matter for him, he was sure that one day, he would be able to confess to you... it was merely a matter of time. Meanwhile, he would simply have to push his romantic feelings aside, until he was ready to confess.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

Where do I begin?

Izuku is quite friendly and tries to befriend everyone- even if they're challenging or distant. He's proven to be successful- after all, he befriended the aloof Shoto Todoroki.

He began to interact with you through Todoroki- you had quickly befriended the bi-colored boy after joining U.A and when Izuku befriended Todoroki and began to sit together- you would tag along and sit with them. 

When he met you, he was in awe for several reasons. One, you had perfect control over your quirk Liquify- which amazed him to no end- he would constantly ask you questions and mutter under his breath, writing down notes in his notebook.

Your cold behavior didn't bother him- he believed that you simply weren't comfortable with him yet, and he was okay with that fact. You could open up whenever you were ready.

His theory turned out to be correct- after months of socializing, you began to warm up with him- and he began to see a different side of you.

You would occasionally make sarcastic remarks that made him laugh loudly. Izuku didn’t miss how your eyes would slightly crinkle and how beautiful you look when you smiled- but remained silent and kept his comments to himself. 

During the weekend, you had spent time with him and admitted that you felt anxious around him- he was Deku, a Pro Hero in training, he saved everyone and always smiled brightly. To a certain point, you felt intimidated by him.

After hearing your confession, Izuku assured you that you were great as well- he was a firm believer that your quirk and your traits were perfect to be a Pro Hero- there was no reason to feel intimidated.

The two of you grew even closer after that day. 

Sometimes, you would become cuddly or yearn for physical contact and you would grumble or ask Izuku if you could hug him or hold his arm. He would blush brightly and stammer for several minutes but eventually agree.

If being close to him made you happy, he was happy to oblige.

[stuckylibrary]

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Please send us an ask stating which group ask and which person you are replying to. Thank you so much in advance!

cevansebb said:

hey there i’ve been looking for this specific fic where bucky calls steve on national holidays (because bucky have that kind of calendar) and it ends with bucky calls steve around christmas and finds out that steve spends his christmas alone, decided to finally meet steve face to face then. if you could find it that’d be awesome thank you!

bookishbrigitta said:

First of all, I love this blog! It's so well organized! I'm looking for a fic I read a while back and was wondering if you could help me find it. It's a Modern Day/No Powers AU where Bucky is a veteran who has tried to be hyper-masculine all his life to avoid being outed (the fic talks a lot about his struggle with "Don't Ask/Don't Tell" and I think he mentions playing football in high school). I think Steve has a kid? Or a dog? I seem to recall them going to a park together. Thank you!

greyhavensking sent in Hands of Clay by Mhalachai (complete | 425,452 | M)

voyageboots said:

Im trying to find a fic on ao3 where Bucky got a tumblr and mostly reblogged photos of borbs. It was stucky in the end.

Anon 1 said:

Hi! I’m looking for a fic I forgot to bookmark. It’s from the POV of the woman whose truck Steve stole in WS and Bucky shows up at her house because he knows Steve will be Steve and return it or smth and she freaks out bc the winter soldier is in her house but ends up being nice to him anyway because she just like doesn’t know what else to do. Help? And also thanks 🙏🏼

noneofusthesame, skarabrae-stone and drjezdzany sent in That Kind Of Day* by Neery (oneshot | 5,437 | G) *not Stucky!

Anon 2 said:

Hey! I’m trying to find a fic... what I remember from it is they’re training in the Avengers gym (turns into smut) and Natasha is there watching from a perch?? I read it a while ago and I can’t remember what it’s called or who the author is

buckycuddlebuddy, Anon, notanarrogantclotpole and noneofusthesame sent in I Spy With My Little Eye by musette22 (oneshot | 13,587 | E)

snowpaw1611 said:

Hi, could I please have help finding a fanfic? I can't remember much of it except that after hydra was taken down, they tried to kill Bucky by injecting him with a lot of insulin but steve and the others found him in time. Thank you!

possibleplatypus and Anon sent in Love Among the Ruins* by Carelica (complete | 58,772 |E) *rape/noncon

heatherflames said:

I'm looking for a fic where I think Peter says "Didn't you used to be Bucky Barnes?" and all the avengers are worried the Winter Soldier is about to kill him, since he's sensitive about the Bucky thing. However, he goes, "What? He's right, I did use to be Bucky Barnes." Or something like that, pleased that Peter is saying it in the past tense. Help?

Anon 3 said:

Hello! I'm looking for a fic that was modern and there was no powers. Steve is in the military with his group of Howling Commandos except they're just normal soldiers. They all talk about their partners back home and when they finally get home to the airport, they're suprisd to find out that Bucky is a man but they're still happy to meet him. Fingers crossed that you can find it for me 😊

noneofusthesame sent in Tell me about it* by FallOutStucky (complete | 8,349 | T) *chose not to warn

Anon 4 said:

This is such a small detail, but it's driving me up the wall- I'm looking for this fic where it's mutual pining and Steve confesses his love for Bucky and Bucky starts laughing because he had been tearing himself apart over confessing /his/ love to /steve/ and it all seems so silly in retrospect, but Steve doesn't know what's going on in Bucky's head, and so Steve's crying and he says 'please don't laugh at me'. Does anyone know this fic? Please and thank you!

whit15us said:

Hi, I'm looking for specific stucky fic. Unfortunately the only scene I can remember is that Bucky receives his metal arm from Tony basically as a test subject. The fic has a scene where Bucky gets into an argument with some guys at a bar. His metal hand gets stuck around a guy's throat and he wants to get the arm removed. Thanks

Anon sent in Trained on You by 70SecretKinks (complete | 93,460 | E)

Anon 5 said:

I'm looking for a fic that I remember distinctly because it had fairly extensive citations at the bottom, either to actual research or in-universe sources. It was pre-war, it talked a lot about the queerness of where Steve and Bucky grew up, but it's not by thingswithwings (who has an excellent post about the neighborhood). I found pugglemuggle's art fic which has them but it isn't that one either. I think it bridged pre-war and modern day and was heavy on the history. Thanks, super sorry about the double message.

whothefamianyway said:

Hey, i'm looking for this one fic that's about Steve and Bucky and the howling commandos and there's this very vivid description of steve after Bucky falls. Please help!!

Anon 6 said:

Hi! I’m looking for a fic, where Steve and Bucky are best friends who star in a tv show together. But in the show they play Chris and Sebastian. That’s all I can remember. Thank you so much!

Anon 7 said:

There's a fic i'm looking for where Steve was a cop and Bucky was a sex worker- sex workers all over were getting raped and killed, so Bucky was Steve's eyes on the street and they slowly get closer. Except Steve gets mad and stressed over the case and says something about wasting time saving whores, and Bucky says something like "if that's how you really see me, I guess I'm just gonna leave" and Bucky gets attacked? The bad guy was Rumlow, I think either currently or ex-police? thanks!!

Anon 8 said:

I remember reading a one shot where bucky is rescued from hydra and after a few months he has a really bad case of blue balls? it’s super angsty and there’s a lot of smut at the end, with steve relieving him of his blue balls and bucky coming many times

possibleplatypus and Anon sent in Deep-Six* by Claudia_flies (oneshot | 3,474 | E) *chose not to warn

[niall-official]

Happy 28th! I’ve read some great fics this month, old and new. These are in alphabetical order and, as always, please give kudos and comments on fics you’ve enjoyed! I’m still over at @verylarryfics reblogging more fic posts each day!

📚 Asleep and Dreaming by MrsStylinson (Harry/Louis, 20k) Harry still gets breathless just looking at him but after being best friends for two years you kind of just learn to laugh. Even when all you really want to do is stick your tongue down your best friend’s throat. Or perhaps that’s just Harry?

Or the one where Harry pines for a boy who completely turned his world upside down, not to mention his flat. As for Louis, he’s just a lot better at playing dead than he looks. Featuring night-time confessions, penis cakes and the inconvenience of falling in love.

📚 Big, Bright World by RealName (Harry/Louis, 35k) It really was just a little crush in the beginning, nothing to be worried about. Louis had never really liked anyone he'd worked with in the past, but he was sure he could control himself. Little did he know that over time his 'little crush' would develop into a blazing inferno of Hell-fire proportions. Every day, Louis' feelings became more intense, more immediate, each little smile and gesture and silly flirtation mounting up into something palpable, with a life of its own. Louis felt it every moment they were together.

The only problem? Harry was engaged to someone else and had been from the moment Louis started working at Visionary.

📚 Failure to Launch by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings​ (Harry/Louis, 29k)  Desperate times call for desperate measures when Louis’ mother realizes her adult son may never leave the comfort of home, so she hires Harry, a highly-recommended professional interventionist who’s skilled enough to help push her darling son out of the bloody nest.

📚 i gotta get better! by reveries_passions / @dystopianharry​ (Harry/Louis, 4k) harry’s sex life has been pretty nonexistent since he broke up with his last non-soulmate boyfriend. after a chance encounter with someone online, he decides to enlist them to help him out. no strings attached, obviously.

or soulmates can feel each others’ pain and harry has some kinks he wants to explore.

📚 I'm Not Scared Of Love by EscapeFromReality777 (Liam/Zayn, 3k) "Show me Liam... teach me." Z murmurs, and Liam almost gives in, hearing his breathy voice. "...you must have practice... no one can resist you.. teach me your ways." Zayn continues in the same low voice, coming closer, beginning to corner Liam against the head-board, reminding Liam very much of a predator stalking it's prey.

"Not even you?" Liam jokes... well, tries to joke. And if his voice almost gives out in between... and if he thinks he briefly sees Zayn's eyes light up, well, no one has to know that.."

Or.. the Ziam one shot in which Zayn is pining, Liam is oblivious, jealous and pining, and with a wee bit of sexual tension, "forever" ensues. (Inspired by the very much canon 'Come on then, come on' ziam incident)

📚 I’ve Been Hoping You’d Be Somewhere Better Than This by runaway_train / @runaway-train-works​ (Harry/Louis, 39k) “Does she know who it is then, from the New York office?” Louis enquires.

“Yeah, some guy Henry? Henry Styles I think she said?"

“Harry.”

“What?"

“Harry. His name is Harry Styles.” His heart sank. Louis hadn’t met him, they had only shared a couple of emails back and forth, but he knew exactly who he was. And Harry hadn’t just been killing it in the Big Apple, he’s been ripping the place to absolute shreds, nailing some of the most lucrative accounts in the business.Louis is so fucked.

Or

The one where Louis is up for a promotion, he just has one tiny, little problem standing in his way.

📚 In All Its Imperfections by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite​ (Harry/Louis, 15k) From: Louis Tomlinson To: Undisclosed Recipients

Hello!

I’ve asked the front desk and you lovely folks are the ones who are on the same level as me in the car park. I found a to-do list today that looked somewhat important because it has lines of poetry scribbled at the bottom that seemed like they might be for a card project. The stationary has a moose in a canoe at the top of it (and he is quite adorable). Let me know if it’s yours!

Cheers!

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting over the sentences again willing them not to make sense. They did, they did make sense. “Oh. My. Bloody. Fucking. God.”

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with a very concerned Liam hovering over his head.

"What happened, mate?" Liam asked.

Harry just pointed to his computer.

Liam bent over Harry’s desk to read the email. “What? This isn’t bad. Is that your to-do list? Did you finally come up with the inside text for those cards?”

“Leeyum" he groaned. “It’s what’s on the list.”

“Oh,” Liam paused for a beat. “Is it dirty stuff?”

Harry nodded.

There was more silence. And then, “Dirty stuff with Louis?”

📚 In Which Calvin Klein Inadvertently Causes A Gay Panic by allsassnoclass (Niall/Shawn, 2k) The thing is, Niall has always considered himself the token straight member of One Direction, but he feels like he really shouldn't be looking at his best friend's thighs like that. 

📚 Just Go With It by rainbowslovehl / @rainbowsandlovehl (Harry/Louis, 6k) “Brett, there’s something I need to tell you,” he started, inwardly cringing at his choice of words before taking in a deep breath. Brett seemed curious, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “The reason I haven’t been texting you back is that...” “Harry, they were all out of organic guacamole,” a raspy, unfamiliar male voice interrupted, startling him into silence. “So I got us the normal one. Hope that’s alright?”

Harry has no idea how to escape awkward situation but luckily for him, Louis swoops in to help.

📚 Leave Your Mark On Me by FullOnLarrie / @fullonlarrie (Harry/Louis, 32k) When Chef Harry Styles’ unbonded Omega designation threatens to derail his career, he does the only thing he can, and goes in search of a black market bond.

📚 Love Will Tear Us Apart by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 (Harry/Louis, 103k) “You ruined my fucking life, Harry. You stopped me living my dream because you’re a selfish bastard who couldn’t keep himself clean for five fucking minutes. You took away my independence, my freedom, my choices, Harry. And I hate you for that, I hate you!”

As he spat out the final words, Louis felt all of the fight go out of him. He slumped back into the chair, his heart racing his chest, his head beginning to swim. It was a familiar feeling, and one Louis didn't like. He looked up, finally meeting Harry’s gaze for the first time in a while.

“Out of everyone in my life, Harry, I never thought you’d be the one to hurt me. Not like this.”

A story of two halves.

Louis and Harry had it all - a career, friendship, and some of the best sex either of them had ever had.

But Harry ruins it all with one life-changing mistake ... and Louis is left to pay the price.

📚 make you never wanna leave by anonymous (Harry/Louis, 9k) “But that's fine?” Now Louis just looks confused. “There are so many ways you can have fun sex. Wetness is helpful but not a requirement.”

Harry can feel his face heating up. The way Louis said fun sex, like it's that easy, like he has all the experience. He might be a year older than Harry, but Harry's not quite sure if age is the only factor at play here. He doesn't know why the thought of Louis having sex makes his heart start to race again and he especially doesn't know why the next thing he blurts out is, “You could show me.”

or, Harry is an omega teen who has trouble getting wet even when he's turned on, Louis is his omega best friend who helps him experiment. In a completely platonic way, of course.

📚 Never Mind the Furthermore Anonymous (Harry/Louis, 7k) Louis and Harry have regular phone sex. But they're just friends, okay?

📚 O! Yes! by homosociallyyours / @homosociallyyours (Harry/Louis, 2k) Louis is a somewhat sexually awkward omega into other omegas. When an omega-centric sex shop opens near his favorite coffee shop, he definitely doesn't plan to check it out.

One friendly ambush later, he's standing inside and talking with a too pretty omega about things that definitely make him blush. He's not the only one blushing, though. Harry, the cute and enthusiastic toy store employee is too.

📚 Oh, We're In Love, Aren't We? by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings (Harry/Louis, 30k) After sixteen wonderful years of friendship, it's hard to imagine any grand (and usually dumb) plans they haven't had or some type of mischief they haven't gotten into together. But, when Harry suddenly finds himself without a fiance and Louis just wants to help him feel okay again, they realize falling in love is one thing they haven't done, and that's about to change.

📚 Only One at the Finish Line by Anonymous (Harry/Louis, 9k) “What don’t I know?!” Louis shouts, and then Harry is rounding on him, close enough that he can feel the heat of his body, the rage and the glory and the pain of it so close that it blinds him.

“I want to be another alpha’s omega,” is what he says, and it comes out like something reckless, something wild. Like he doesn't care anymore if Louis hates him or not, if Louis understands, he just needs to speak his truth aloud to darkness, to the slender pines that surround them like a jury panel.

📚 signs and wonders by scrunchyharry (Harry/Louis, 29k) On the surface, it looks like Louis Tomlinson has the perfect life; after all, he has the whole package: a white picket fence house (well, his doesn’t technically have a white picket fence, but work with him), a wife, a daughter and a dog. He has it all and he’s not even 30, yet.

On the surface, he could be the happiest man in the world.

The thing is, he never wanted this life. There was this boy, see, this Harry Styles, whose arrival made Louis question everything he thought he knew about himself. Before Louis could pursue it, though, before he could be brave and ask the boy out, one moment of bad luck on prom night, one single lapse of judgment, shaped his life in a way he never would have chosen. Between doing the right thing or turning into his own absent father, he knew what he had to do, even if it meant burying his dreams under the weight of a premature adulthood.

That is, until he receives an invitation for his school’s ten year reunion and sees that Harry will attend.

Could it be his second chance at happiness? At what cost?

📚 Soju (소주) by gettingaphdinlarry / @gettingaphdinmomo (Niall/Shawn, 2k) After a spectacular breakup he'd like to forget about, English language teacher Niall Horan finds himself in starting anew in Seoul, South Korea. He's perfectly content being single, but when his friends try to set him up with Shawn Mendes, well... Maybe it's time to give love another shot.

📚 Sweet Like Honey by moonygirl76 (Niall/Shawn, 7k) In a non au world where Shawn and Niall work to continue what they've built together, they find that, maybe, it's time to figure out exactly what it is they are building, and what they mean to one another.

📚 Tell me when you're ready (I'm waitin') by insufferablelovebirds / @therosiestofdaggers (Harry/Louis, 17k) When Harry's love letters to his old crushes get sent accidentally, one of his old crushes, Louis offers to help him fake a relationship but it gets complicated when feelings get involved.

Or an au loosely based off to all the boys I've loved before.

📚 The Bet by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom (Harry/Louis, 2k) Louis Tomlinson never reneges on a bet. Ever.

He may be many things - a joker, a sometimes-wayward student, a loyal friend, a Tony Award winner in the making, and a card-carrying member of the Chad Michael Murray fan club - but never, ever, a welcher. Louis makes good on his promises and does it with flare.

OR The one where Louis misjudges Harry's ability to do TLC's Waterfall rap and finds himself having to put on a one-man show for his viewing pleasure. If Louis decides to go all-in and dress the part, then that's just a bonus for his (very appreciative) one-man audience.

📚 The Lonely Planet Guide to Second Chances by 1Diamondinthesun (Harry/Louis, 102k) When Harry and Louis broke up, the last thing on Harry's mind was the non-refundable surprise trip he had booked for them across Europe. Harry was supposed to be moving on, not sightseeing with his ex. In hindsight, touring the continent with Louis was probably a bad idea. So naturally, that's exactly what Harry did.

Or, the breakup travel fic featuring romantic sunsets, awkward bed sharing, and second chances against a backdrop of some of Europe's most iconic cities.

📚 the way that you're thrilling me by Anonymous (Harry/Louis, 12k) Sometimes he wondered if everyone was pretending. Alphas were smelly and cocky and mostly arseholes, in Harry’s experience. Or at least they were at school. He didn’t understand how his friends—lovely, soft-skinned, sweet-smelling omegas—could actually want to touch them, or be touched by them.

Maybe he was just immature. That’s what his friends said, anyway. He’d want it eventually.

(Or, the one where Harry and Louis don’t enjoy sex - until they do.)

📚 this love will keep us through blinding of the eyes by Anonymous (Harry/Louis, 9k) As his other friends head into the strip club, he steps towards the bouncer, fumbling through his wallet to find his ID. He’s so distracted by his search that he hasn’t gotten a proper look at the bouncer until he’s standing right in front of him, shoving his ID into the alpha's ridiculously long, painted fingers.

Louis will blame it on the alcohol if anyone asks, but he can’t help staring intensely at the alpha in front of him, soaking up every detail of the guy. His breath catches in his throat as he watches the alpha, unable to look away from the strikingly green eyes.

It’s weird. So weird. Maybe Louis is more drunk than he thought, but he was feeling just barely tipsy only moments ago so that seems slightly unlikely. Between the long curls, the jawline so sharp it could cut glass, muscles rippling under his shirt, and endlessly long legs, this alpha is objectively the most attractive person Louis has ever seen.

But that can’t be right, because Louis’ an alpha, too.

When Louis' friends bring him to a strip club for his 18th birthday, the last thing he would have expected is leaving with a crush, let alone a crush on another alpha.

[odinsonsobsessed]

What The Heart Wants ~ Prologue

After your parents mysteriously died, you found yourself living in the very same Palace as the Princes of Asgard. Over the years, you became close with them and your feelings grew for one Prince in particular. When you thought that your feelings would never be reciprocated, you decided to move on. If only things were that simple.

Pairing: Loki/Reader || Word Count: 1k || Rated T

A/N: This story was inspired by a one-shot I posted for Lily and Firith’s Marvel Smut Writing Challenge, called One Last Talk. You can also find my work on AO3!

If you don’t want any spoilers, I would recommend reading One Last Talk when I link it in the later chapters, as the events that take place happen later in the story.

A special thank you to @fandom-and-feminism for helping me with this and supporting me!

Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are encouraged and appreciated! 

Series Masterlist

You know what they say, the heart wants what it wants.

And it wanted Loki.

It wasn’t one of those ‘love at first sight’ moments. Your first impression of him was that he was just another pompous Prince, like his brother.

Your parents had suddenly died, leaving you almost completely alone. You had no siblings, no known relatives to take you in. Frigga had been the one that welcomed you into the palace with open arms once the news reached her. Frigga was an old friend of your parent’s, back before she married Odin and became Queen.

The death of your parents was a mystery. No one could tell you why, no one could tell you how. They were just found in an alley by one of the townsfolk. No wounds, no evidence, no witnesses, nothing. There were no answers. That’s what broke your heart the most.

Adjusting to life in the palace was not easy. You felt out of place at first, unwelcomed by the rest, since you were not royalty. You constantly asked Frigga if there was something you could be doing, something you could do in return for living there. She always refused, until one day she finally gave in. She tasked you with helping her in the garden. While it wasn’t something you thought was enough, you enjoyed spending the time with her. She was one of the sweetest people you had ever met.

Frigga told you stories of Thor and Loki when they were little. Tales of their bickering and their sweet sides. You started to see them in a new light and then you began spending time with them, after you initially tried to avoid them.

While spending time with Thor meant training for battle, Loki preferred to spend his time reading and practicing his spells. After a short time, you found yourself wondering more of what Loki was doing than of Thor.

At first, Loki wasn’t too keen on the company. But, eventually you found yourselves spending more and more time together, getting along. Loki lent you books to read that he thought you would like, which were usually ones he thoroughly enjoyed. Sometimes, when you were feeling bold, you would ask him to read to you. His voice was like a smooth melodic tune in your ears and you craved to hear it.

There were times where he would train with you and Thor, giving you tips on how to deal with a sorcerer. Not like you ever went anywhere to use those abilities, but you often wondered if they just liked teaching you anyway, in case you ever needed to defend yourself. One of the most entertaining things to do, was to watch them spar with one another. Thor fought with strength and vigor, while Loki’s style was more witty and cunning, relying on haste and magic.

You didn’t realize what you felt for Loki was love, until you danced with him for the first time. Odin liked to host parties occasionally, mostly for political reasons. Everyone who was someone gathered in the palace for a night of fun.

The first few parties, you felt awkward and didn’t really talk or dance with anyone. But after you had gotten closer with the Princes, you started mingling with more people, those you had seen around the palace.

When you danced with Fandral, Loki wanted to cut in. At first you thought he seemed irritated, but once he swept you away, his features calmed and he smiled at you. You thought he looked exceptionally handsome that night, dressed in his full armor, cape and all. Time suddenly slowed for you, and it was just you and him in the room. You became more aware just how green his eyes were as he gazed at you, and how his black hair contrasted the pale skin of his face. You noticed just how fitted his leather was, how it tugged on his muscles when he moved.

Loki’s movements were graceful and confident as he lead you in your dance. His touch was gentle, relaxed. Your hand tingled from the contact of his cool skin, yet the spot he held on your waist burned red hot. Your heart beat wildly in your chest just from this simple contact.

It wasn't until Thor cut in, that you snapped back to reality. You shook your thoughts and assumed you were feeling this way because you'd spent so much time with Loki, that you'd never been that close to him. But, you didn't feel the same when you danced with Thor. Sure, he was very much attractive to you, but your body and heart didn't react the same way.

As you thought more and more about it, gazing at Loki from across the room as he spoke with his mother with a tender smile, you came to a conclusion. Not only were you growing extremely attracted to this man, but his kindness towards you, towards the ones he cared for made you feel warm. His sarcastic, playful manner grew on you, too. His knowledge of both literature and fighting was impressive.

Butterflies began thrashing in your stomach at the realization that you were in love with Loki.

It took you awhile to work up the nerve to tell him how you felt. You planned the whole thing out, you would tell him at the next party. You put on your prettiest dress and practiced what you were going to say. You drank a glass of wine to calm your nerves.

That's when you heard them talking, like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head. A group of girls that hung around the palace, whispering to themselves while glancing your way. ‘Ugh, she is so annoying.’ ‘Always following Loki around like a puppy dog.’ ‘She thinks she has a chance with a Prince? That's laughable, considering she's a nobody, an orphan.”

There went the walls around your clenching heart. They were right. You had no future with the second born prince of Asgard. You were silly to think anything could come from these feelings, just because Frigga brought you here and treated you like you belonged. The truth was, you didn't. There was no way you could tell Loki how you felt now. So, you didn't. For decades, you secretly pined for him, you suffered in silence and settled for being his friend.

Then, you met Olvir.

Chapter One -->

@fandom-and-feminism @igotloki @fadingcoast @nikkalia @mrshiddleston-uk @manager-of-mischief

[guksthighs]

Anxious || jhs

Excerpt:  ‘ “So what’s going on with you buttercup?” You had settled to holding Hoseok’s hand in yours, squeezing it as you lead the still teary-eyed boy to the nearby park. ’ 

Genre: fluff, angst

Length: 1k

A/N: i saw a hot boy in my therapy waiting room and my mind wandered. maybe one day i’ll get my cliche love story,,

no one asked for this and you probably dont want it im sorry kiddos

warnings: mentions and description of anxiety and worthlessness

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Hoseok cursed mentally, at his stupid pick up line; his knee began to tap against the floor before he smoothed his hands over them to try and stop it.

You were watched him unable to stop your lips quirking into a smile at his attempt to flirt with you, “Hoseok we see each other every week,” the boy’s tapping halted, seemingly too busy contemplating what you had just said before grinning and moving so he could rest his head on your shoulder.

The waiting room was full of drawings; pictures made by children who frequented the building, and if you squinted, you would be able to make out Hoseok’s drawing that he had made to ‘immortalise’ you and him. Because it was every girl’s dream to be remembered in the waiting room for therapy sessions.

Hoseok seemed to have dozed off and as your heart fluttered with a mixture of anxiety at the idea of having to discuss how your week had gone, as well as the aspect of having a boy like Hoseok flirt with you.

He had always been like a sunshine in that waiting room; he had seen you looking pale and trembling like a leaf on your first visit and had taken it upon himself to see you smile. Multiple silly faces and jokes later, you had pulled your knees into your chest and risked a smile at him. Since then, the two of you were inseparable.

The boy had always seemed like a ball of happiness to you, radiating sunshine and light and yet there was a time that you would only see him with a tear-stained face, always smiling though.

“I like seeing you smile,” he whispered and you felt the warmth of his tears against your shoulder, causing you to flinch and crane your neck to try and comfort your friend. “Why can’t I protect you?” His voice was trembling and your heart yearned to do whatever you could to bring back that sunshine, that light that had once seemed to be natural was painfully forced now.

Abruptly, you leapt to your feet causing to Hoseok to yelp and flop onto the cushion where you had just been sitting. With a sudden burst of confidence, you outstretched your hand, “let’s go make each other smile.”

Both of you had fallen into the routine of arriving half an hour early to share some time together, before meeting your separate therapists and leaving together. Routine was said to be crucial to healing for both of you, and yet, as Hoseok took your hand and you both walked out together with a small wave and an apology to the receptionist, you felt unstoppable.

“So what’s going on with you buttercup?” You had settled to holding Hoseok’s hand in yours, squeezing it as you lead the still teary-eyed boy to the nearby park. You knew he would love it, daisies having just started to sprout from the long grass and pale pink cherry blossom framing the small patch of green.

The boy next to you felt so fragile, hand clutching yours as he kept his eyes trained on the pavement, bottom lip trembling slightly, “it’s the sixth month anniversary of when we first met,’ your eyes shot open as you prepared to apologise profusely for not buying him anything, but a squeeze to the hand warned you Hoseok had more to say.

“Ever since I laid eyes on you,” Hoseok stopped walking, his hand seemed boiling in your own and you wanted to do whatever you could to make him comfortable again, deciding on dropping his hand and wrapping your arms around his side instead. “You’ve made me feel things I’ve never felt. I can be myself around you, I don’t have to be this eternally happy being to make you like me and what I’m trying to say is I like you?”

Now it was your turn to stop; heart-racing and eyes squeezed shut as you tried to discern if you were dreaming or not. Jung Hoseok, the boy you had been pining after reciprocated your feelings? It seemed impossible and yet as you cautiously opened an eye to look up at him, you knew he was telling the truth.

Especially when you were forced to watch a tear snake down his cheek, moving to wipe it away he simply shook his head, “It won’t work. I’m not good enough for you but I accepted that and just wanted you to know there are no secrets between us anymore.”

There was something about his inability to see his worth to you and all those around him that broke your heart and placing your hands gently to cup his face, you smiled, “you are enough and I feel the same way.” Hoseok began to cry, leaning his head forward as he sniffled, causing you to giggle at his dramatics, “how could I not like you? My idiot sunshine.”

Hoseok pulled his head back, tilting it slightly as if to prepare you for his reasons why you wouldn’t like him, so instead, you grabbed him by the shirt and pressed your lips to his. Both of your eyes were wide open and you jumped away from the kiss in a second, surprised by your actions as well as the fact that he had allowed it.

“I must admit, I was not expecting that,” he laughed and pushed his fringe out of his face before placing his fingers to his lips as if he were reminiscing your first kiss together. It felt silly and yet after all you had been through you felt that the pair of you deserved a cliche love story. Something that seemed unreal, and yet with his hand clutching onto yours like it was a lifeline, you knew that it was very much real.

If you enjoyed this, please do not hesitate to like, reblog and comment~

And tell me your thoughts in the comments/ask box <3

For my drabbles: click here

[fucking-zawa-sensei]

My FanFic Masterlist:

My fanfic tab is a little messy with reblogs, so I’ve compiled all of my fics into this masterlist, with small summaries for each. Click the titles to be taken to the post.

Search “fanfic masterlist” on my blog to find this post easily. I will continue to update it as I post more fics. 

Thanks for following and reading my fics. I am so incredibly happy I decided to make this blog and write for the BNHA fandom. This has been such a fun experience. Thank you to everyone who was here from the start, too. I love you all. 

As a reminder, you can also find all of my writing under the “My Fanfiction” tab on my blog. Most of it is also on AO3 (Say_Jay). 

Fics:

After Effects - Takes place after chapter 159 of the manga. Hurt/comfort from both Aizawa and Yamada. Aizawa deals with this guilt over the incidents withthe precepts and Yamada deals with his fears of losing the one he loves. 

After Hours  - Aizawa and Yamada both work late on Fridays, but unlike most nights, their schedules sync up, and they get to come home together. They unwind from their work and indulge in some cuddles. This is super fluffy. 

Don’t Kid Yourself - Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]My multichapter angst fic, completed 9/9 chapters. It’s a very painful, slow burn that’s honestly hard to describe. Through much struggle and many confused feelings, Aizawa and Yamada figure out what love is. 

Shots Fired  - I forgot to rate this one, but it’s Mature for Violence (I am not kidding, take this seriously). This is another hurt/comfort fic. I can’t get into the details without giving away the twist. 

Chilly Afternoon - At some point I discovered I needed to stop hurting Aizawa and Yamada. So I made them a nice little coffee date in the snow. Pure fluff. It’s a short read. 

Soft - Short, sweet, fluff. Tumblr exclusive. This one is only a few hundred words. 

Ice It - Yamada takes a beating doing some hero work and heads to Aizawa’s to get patched up. Aizawa takes care of him and Yamada lets a confession slip. 

Drop the Beat - They’ve been on the hero scene for a few years, but have lost touch. Aizawa follows a lead on a villain to a shady bar and is surprised to find a certain unforgettable blond doing a DJ side gig. Aizawa and Yamada team up to take down the villain. Everything doesn’t quite go as planned. This the most action-intensive fic I’ve written. 

Overworked - Aizawa is the last person that should be trying to convince someone to take a break and get some sleep, but Yamada’s been pushing himself too hard and someone has to do it. This is domestic fluff.

Bask - Aizawa and Yamada share a sweet, fluffy date in the park. 

Oblivious - High school fic, Yamada’s parents gave him up as a baby and now he’s throwing a party at the children’s home he lives at. Aizawa is helplessly oblivious to the whole situation, but comes out to support his friend and learn a little. 

Hold me Closer - A short drabble. Yamada has a nightmare and Aizawa holds him through it. 

Warmth - A thank you fic for reaching 800 followers. This follows Aizawa and Yamada through a sweet Saturday, from morning to night, spending time together, and generally being so damn cute it will rot your teeth.

A Hero’s Work - A short drabble, Aizawa’s POV, reflecting after a particularly trying battle with a group of villains.

Not Without Trying - Chapters: [1] A three chapter fic where Aizawa and Yamada adopt Eri. 

Painted Hearts - Shouta loves his mom. She picks him up from school and runs her fingers through his hair and every day they paint beautiful pictures together. Until they don’t.

Black Tie - EXPLICIT, Yamada receives a prestigious award for his radio show, and in a rather unprecedented turn of events, Aizawa doesn’t put up a fight when his husband requests he tag along to the black tie ceremony. Yamada doesn’t put a fight when Aizawa quickly yanks said black tie off when they get home.

Prove Me Wrong - Short angst drabble 

Matchmaker - Over the months Aizawa had been training him, it was impossible for Shinsou not to notice how often Yamada would show up to pick Aizawa up after their sessions. It was even more impossible not to notice the way the tired, reserved man never once told the blond to stop draping himself over his shoulders or laughing in his ear. If Shinsou didn’t know any better, he’d say Aizawa liked Yamada. Actually, that just might be the case.Shinsou reports this and an idea to get the two teachers to notice the other’s feelings to his newfound friend, Midoriya. Kayama overhears their conversation and offers her help. Class 1-A plays matchmaker.

Room for me? - Short drabble. Mic wants to take a nap with Aizawa in the staff room. Fluff. 

Take Your Time - Drabble. Yamada needs some time and Aizawa is there to help. 

On Patrol - EXPLICIT, Hizashi suggests they make an easy, early weekday patrol more interesting with a vibrator. This leads to some hot and heavy sex in an alley. 

These Days Come and Go - Written for the prompt “Date Night” for ersaermicweek2018. Shouta has had a rough week and Hizashi decides to plan the perfect day to help him relax, but things don’t go as planned. 

Break Me, Baby - EXPLICIT, Bottom Mic. They’d been at this for at least an hour now. Hizashi was beyond well prepped, this wasn’t necessary, but he’d asked to be brought to the edge and when Shouta had asked are you sure? Hizashi had responded with Yes, and when I get there, drag me over it.

Shatterproof - Chapters: [1] [2] [3] Ongoing multi-chapter fic co-written with @aizawashovta full of emotional angst and healing. Shouta and Hizashi deal with their insecurities and helping each other overcome them. 

I Need Time - Drabble. Mic lies to Aizawa. Will probably continue this into a larger story at some point. 

Soaring - Drabble. Shouta and Hizashi share a moment in the park, studying birds. 

100 Ways to Say I Love You - An ongoing collection of 100 fics, each one a different way Aizawa and Yamada show their love to one another in more than just words. Co-written with @aizawashovta

Before You Go -  Shouta’s latest case requires some undercover work in another district, pulling him away from Hizashi for a lengthy amount of time. As the days grow closer to Shouta’s departure, Hizashi struggles to let go.

Temper - A short drabble in which Hizashi loses his temper and Shouta does his best to support him through it. 

Don’t do the Dew - A fun, sort of silly short fic in which Hizashi makes a disastrous breakfast and bears with the consequences. 

Support - Short fic, in which Hizashi deals with some trauma after being captured and Shouta comforts him. 

Kittens and Tea - Drabble. They were supposed to go on a date to a tea shop, but Shouta spots a fluffy little kitten waiting for a home. 

Rainy Day - Drabble. Shouta and Hizashi cuddle together on a rainy day. 

Play me a Song, DJ - Drabble. Shouta helps Hizashi build a playlist for his radio show. 

Credit - Drabble. Shouta and Hizashi bicker over whether a student should get credit on a test. Things get a little angsty. 

No Rest While You’re Away - Aizawa is captured and tortured and the only thing keeping him going is Hizashi. 

I Will Be Your Hands - Small fic. Post - USJ, Shouta can’t use his hands, but Hizashi is there to support him. 

How it is - Small fic. Hizashi breaks a table. 

More than This - Chapters: [1] Angsty mutual pining fic, in which both Hizashi and Shouta want more than sex from the other, but are having a lot of trouble figuring that out. Lots of jealousy. Slow burn. Lots of pain. Eventual happy ending. 

Drowned Out - Drabble. Very angsty. Major Character death. 

Riptide - Chapters: [1][2] Mermaid AU - Hizashi is a siren and Shouta is a ship captain. “Hizashi had been stunning since the first moment he laid eyes on him, lazing against the small cluster of rocks out in the open waves, but there’s something different about him now. Shouta’s heart feels like it skips, thrown across a pond, skidding across the surface before finally breaking the tension, dropping down into the depths.”

Burned - Hizashi’s speaker is decimated, his neck no better, and the stiff back of the hospital waiting room chairs aren’t doing Shouta’s nerves any favors either.

Relief - Sequel to burned, in which Hizashi comes home from the hospital and Shouta helps take care of him. 

Fever - Takes place in the same story line as Burned and Relief, a short ficlet in which Hizashi gets a fever. 

Dango - Hizashi finally gets his dango. Takes place in the same story line as Burned and Relief. 

It’s Been a While - Continuation of the Burned story line. Hizashi’s speaker is repaired. 

Run - Small ficlet from the casino au story I’ll be working on. Hizash is a genius card counter and Aizawa is his body guard. 

Separate - Sad, 500 word drabble, in which Shouta ends up alone.

Can We Keep Him? - 1st place raffle prize. A 5k fic about Hizashi and Shouta fostering kittens in their spare time. Super fluffy.

Witch/Wizard au:

Here are the little ficlets/posts building on the witch au I’ve yet to really start the full fic for yet. A brief explanation of the general au. A little ficlet of Hizashi coming home from travel. Some info on All Might’s place in the au.  Hizashi hatching a dragon egg.  And then check out @bethhankel ‘s blog for some amazing art! Her art and talking to her about this au were what made me start writing it, so definitely go check that out! 

Passing - Part of the above Witch/Wizard AU. It’s short and angsty. Hizashi loses a dragon.

Revenge - Part of the above Witch/Wizard AU, occurring after Passing, where Hizashi struggles with his grief. 

Sting - A short ficlet in which Shouta deals with the nerve damage caused after USJ. 

[kondo-hijikata]

not reblogging the meme since my answers are gonna be about...

THEM!

General, in a canon setting:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - FOREVER. even after nagareyama. they’re chillin in space rn wondering why a bunch of foreigner kids are running blogs about them

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - the attraction was immediate. kat-chan was visiting toshi’s brother-in-law when they met, and toshi was so taken with the tennen rishin ryu (and its master) that he decided to train seriously. they got on really well but it wasn’t until that day they were sitting by the lake when toshi realized he was actually falling in love with kat-chan. and who wouldn’t, honestly? kat-chan told him it was okay to be himself, instead of what the world wanted of him. 20/10 marriage material

How was their first kiss? - soft. almost shy. they both pined quietly and toshi was content with that instead of confessing and potentially ruining everything...until kat-chan was just so radiant by candlelight and the moment was perfect.

Wedding, in a modern au setting:

Who proposed? - kat-chan. despite that they already discussed getting married multiple times, being officially asked came as a surprise to toshi. they picked out wedding rings together but lo and behold, kat-chan went on his own to buy pair set engagement rings. when they were visiting their families in tama, they took a walk one night and went back to their spot by the lake...and that’s when kat-chan officially asked him. whAT A FLUFFY DORK.

Who is the best man/men? - souji for kat-chan and the sait for toshi

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - tbh, the whole shieikan crew is in the wedding party. they told chizuru to pick her dress but she ended up wearing a suit like the rest of everyone else because #shieikan solidarity. (consequently, i was there and i fell in love with her.)

Who did the most planning? - yall know toshi would be a groomzilla lmao

Who stressed the most? - toshi. kat-chan kept trying to help...even if toshi kept yelling. eventually, he gave in tho. lol like kat-chan would totally try to delegate tasks to their sword sons and take toshi out to attempt alleviating his stress. he’s Good

How fancy was the ceremony? - it was neither over the top or overly simple: a venue large enough to host their guests for the actual ceremony and reception. there’s often an after-party in modern japanese weddings, so they went to an upscale bar type of place for theirs

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - kat-chan wrestled with the idea of inviting serizawa out of courtesy...until toshi (softly) hit him on the head with a magazine

Sex, in a canon and/or au setting:

Who is on top? - consider this: toshi is a bottom whether he’s penetrated or penetrating 👀

Who is the one to instigate things? - both do

How healthy is their sex life? - it’s healthy...as in it’s never expected or taken for granted. they fuck as much or as little as they want and neither is left feeling like something is missing

How kinky are they? - i mean...lmao. kinky is such a subjective word. whatever they do is 10000% consensual and with the other’s respect and comfort in mind at all times

How long do they normally last? - however long they want???

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - nah. i mean, i get this question is probably asking if one is more selfish than the other and just takes and takes without ever giving. but also consider one getting the other off when he’s had a rough day. 👀 👀 👀 or under-the-desk head at work lmao

How rough are they in bed? - however rough they wanna be at that particular time. again, it’s always about respect and comfort.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - they’re not into PDA but when they’re alone, they like to be in contact with each other...reading together, spooning at night (until it gets too hot or toshi is annoyed by the breathing on his neck lmao), hella kisses when the door is closed

Children, in a canon setting :

How many children will they have naturally? - 0. loophole ftw

How many children will they adopt? - add up the amount of people younger than them who were in the shin//sengumi and there’s your answer

Who is the stricter parent? - oh, that’s hijimama for sure lol

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts? - i mean...they’re here to kill cho//shu trash so... they’re both particularly protective over souji (since they basically raised him). kat-chan also is very fond of heisuke, while toshi is fond of yamazaki and the sait

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - pSHHH the only cooking either might do is making something small for the other. the sword kids will have to rely on the kitchen staff. ...though kat-chan does show up with sweets every now and then ;D

Who is the more loved parent? - depends on who you’re asking... lol Favored Dads™ is a legit thing

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings with matsudaira? kat-chan...though if it’s important enough, toshi will accompany him

Who cried the most at graduation serizawa’s funeral? - i heard someone saying how toshi got all teary-eyed LMAOOOOO give him an edo-era oscar

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - they ARE the law...with their own laws...which include seppuku...so their kids best not fuck up.

Cooking, in a modern au setting :

Who does the most cooking? - it depends but it’s mostly equal or a joint effort

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - neither. even in a present day au, kat-chan is still hella adamant about appreciating meals and it rubbed off on toshi

Who does the grocery shopping? - they go together

How often do they bake desserts? - nah lmao

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - depends on the mood. here’s to everyone being able to eat whatever they want. do so in my honor.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - probably kat-chan lmao

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - either one but i can see them skipping fancy and expensive places for cheap and yummy

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - neither lol

Chores, in a modern au setting:

Who cleans the room? - both because this relationship is fair

Who is really against chores? - neither

Who cleans up after the pets? - both

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - if it’s an emergency, kat-chan...but he’ll go back to clean it up later XD

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - toshi. that’s why souji just shows up at random lmao

Who found100 yen between the couch cushions while cleaning? - kat-chan...he slipped it under the elastic of toshi’s briefs and called it a tip, to which he got a half sigh, half smile

Misc, in a modern au setting:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - they both do so quickly but kat-chan will try to indulge toshi when they wash together

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - they’ll walk together

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - pSHT nah

What are their goals for the relationship? - kat-chan just wants toshi to be happy and healthy. toshi wants the same...and he’s also hellbent on making kat-chan prime minister one day lmao

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - neither...unless it’s a mutual decision to not get out of bed

Who plays the most pranks? - kat-chan...but they’re just cute and silly versus souji who actively wants to create chaos in toshi’s life lol