#take a breath ur okay none of this is ur fault

[snailsthatdocrafts]

love solarpunk. dont love how anxious scrolling the tags can make me. but like its my job to consciously consume. so i will probably reblog and/or post a fair bit of solarpunk posts BUT not yhe ones that discuss intense climate crisis statistics or other anxiety provoking (for me) things. not bc i dont think they're important, but bc this blog is a curated safe space full of hope and peace for me. ik solarpunk is inherently political and intertwined w socialist ideals and i support that. just gonna filter it a tad here so i can, like said, consume consciously and not make my anxiety worse

[aceviscontiswife]

KEN YOU'RE MY DANNY JOHNSON QUEEN AND I MUST HAVE YOU WRITE ANGST FOR MY BOY .. but with comfort too .. im not that strong. CONSIDER THAT, danny and reader have kinda of an estabilished thing, but in a particular stressful trial day, danny doesn't want to talk to reader, he just wants the ol' killing spree, which makes him say some nasty stuff to reader when they try to approach, NOW, because of that, reader doesn't go meet him in the border again, and worse yet, they arent falling in any trials together, so hes like "WHAT DO I DO NOW?"

i know you're probably full of works now so please feel free to deny or take all the time you need with this request, you always come first! love ur blog ^_^

“I’m Sorry…” || Danny Johnson

Ahhhhh I had so much fun with this! I decided to write this mostly from Danny’s pov, and how he felt about the situation. So, just gonna say Danny is very much ooc, but it doesn’t matter because this was really sweet and Danny’s totally a softie under that mask.

GN! Reader, Warnings: None, angst with fluff at the end.

Well.. shit. Danny hadn’t meant to say that to you. You’re the first person in a very long time that Danny’s ever loved, so you should expect some mistakes…right? No. That wasn’t fair. Danny needed to apologize. Danny would never try to hurt you, and seeing you cry tears that he caused left him with a pain far worse than the entity’s punishments.

It all started because Danny was having some rough trials, and when you tried to comfort him he lashed out at you and said some terrible things. You never hurt him. In fact, you were trying to help him! Danny felt like such a fool. Here he was, a sadistic murderer, with such a perfect, innocent partner who loved him unconditionally—even if he was a killer.

“Hey, Danny… Are you alrigh-“ He never even let you finish your question before he shoved past you, not even bothering to face you as he yelled: “Don’t you have teammates to sandbag?! I don’t have time for this shit right now. You’re lucky I let you live.”

Danny didn’t even feel that guilty after he said it either. It wasn’t until he noticed you crying that he realized just what he had said. You helped your teammates whenever you could, it was Danny who wouldn’t chase or hook you. He wouldn’t even injure you. If a survivor dared to say anything bad about you, Danny had them dead within minutes. You must have felt so confused, so hurt when he snapped at you.

It wasn’t long after the trial that Danny found himself basically running to the survivor-killer border. If you were there, Danny would apologize so many times that he’d lose his voice. He’d even let you say whatever you wanted to him—though you probably wouldn’t say anything that Danny hasn’t already said to himself. If you weren’t there, he’d wait until a trial. Sure, Danny would suffer every second that he didn’t get to own up for what he said, but he felt like that was another punishment for his idiocy.

When Danny arrived at the border, he began calling out for you so frantically that if any of the other killers or survivors saw him they’d think he finally lost his mind. You weren’t at the border, and you never responded to any of Danny’s calls. Danny ripped his mask off in frustration and tossed it down onto the cold, hard ground. His eyes felt watery, and his lip quivered as he took in a shaky breath. Danny never cried, and he wasn’t going to now. This whole situation was his fault, and throwing a pity party would get him nowhere. So, hurling a few insults towards himself, Danny picks his mask up and slips it back on.

Each trial Danny had, he searched for you. You weren’t in a single one. For the first time in a long time, Danny was lost. What could he do if he couldn’t see you? He checked the border constantly, but each time you were never there. Danny was ready to ask random survivors about you, and if you were okay. That was his plan until his very next trial.

Danny’s eyes open, and he finds himself in snowy realm of Mount Ormond Resort. Immediately, Danny began to look for you. The image of you crying wouldn’t leave his head, and even when he did finally apologize, he’d still feel guilty for a while. No amount of sacrifices or murder-selfies can make Danny feel okay about what happened.

The first survivor he spotted was Meg, who was oblivious to Danny’s presence. Next he found Thalita and Adam, who had spotted Danny and ran. There was still no sign of you. Danny was hopeful this time, however. Ormond was your favorite realm, you loved the snow.

Danny had searched almost the entire map, and you were nowhere to be seen. He was now headed to the very corner of the map he had yet to check. Behind the mask, that constantly displayed the gaping mouth and eyes of a ghost, was a man who had never felt so nervous or afraid in his life. It was crazy how much you had changed him. Normally, Danny loved to make people cry. He loved to instill fear into people before ruthlessly killing them. But now, at least when it came to you, Danny couldn’t stand it.

As Danny approaches the edge of the realm, he can hear a generator being worked on. There was no way any of the survivors he’s already seen could get here in time to have the generator this far completed. So, with a deep breath, Danny turns the corner.

“Danny..?” It was you. Everything Danny had planned to say had been tossed out of the window as he threw his knife and mask to the ground and engulfed you in a tight hug. Despite how angry you wanted to be, you couldn’t help but melt into his arms and listen to him as he apologized over and over.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Y/n. I would never kill you. Ever. I’m so stupid for saying that and I-“ Danny pauses and takes in a shaky breath, burying his face in your neck. His voice now muffled, he continues, “You should be with someone who treats you better, who isn’t a fucking murderer.”

You nudge Danny off of you, taking his shaking hands in yours. You look up to meet his gaze, his eyes were glazed over, and despite how much he tried to hide it, you could tell he was close to tears. He felt horrible. A part of you had a feeling he would, since he practically melts whenever he’s around you, but seeing this side of Danny was still rare. He truly cared, and moments like these were when you knew. You could see the real Danny. The one who was terrified that you would never forgive him. The Danny who knew what he said was wrong, and is now doing whatever he can to make it right.

“Dan, while what you said was really asshole-ish of you, I’m not gonna hold a grudge for it. I never went to the border because every time I got close to it, the entity sent me back to the campfire. I can tell you really didn’t mean what you said. I don’t want anyone else, only you. I love you.”

Danny was speechless. You… forgive him? “Y/n, I promise I’ll never say anything like that to you ever again. I love you too, and I’m sorry I act like a dick all the time.” You chuckle, Danny’s brows scrunching as he stared at you with a confused look on his face.

“I said I forgive you, dummy. You sound like a broken record.” You joke, finally cracking a smile from Danny. “Seriously though, I couldn’t ask for anyone better than you, Danny Johnson.”

Danny doesn’t respond, instead, he cups your face in his gloved hands and kisses you. The kiss was passionate, and it painted Danny completely the opposite from how others perceived him. And, without even opening his mouth, Danny spoke to you through his actions. The hand cupping your face, the other hand threading through your hair… it told you everything:

“I love you too.”

*******

I enjoyed writing this so much!! Your requests mean so much to me, and they help me expand my writing and improve in ways I never thought I could. Love ya! ❤️

[sw33t-d1vine]

Hello!! I'm sorry for the spam, ur work is just so frickin comforting :]

Do you think you could maybe do a fic of Springtrap comforting the reader when they have trouble with their ADHD, specifically the stutter it gives them, or the pacing? (I have ADHD and these are things I specifically deal with (⁠;⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) )

If not is 100% fine, I hope you have an amazing week, and keep doin what ya love!! :D

“ You’re all I want ”

Springtrap x GN!reader

———

You’re getting frustrated due to your stuttering, thinking its annoying. Springtrap reassures you it’s alright and to continue talking.

-

( A/N ) hi lovely tysm for requesting !! this is adorable , i too also have a stutter so this was fun to write !!

Springtrap loved listening to you talk. You would rant and go on about your interests and other things you liked talking about.

He picked up how you always had a hard time speaking, stumbling over words and stuttering, but he never asked about it. You had eventually told him though and mentioned how you had ADHD.

He was patient with you, letting you take your time and find your words. He didn’t mind at all. Everyone has difficulties with some things, yours so happens to be stuttering. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t control it though, it just happens.

Currently, the two of you were together, you rambling and pacing around and Springtrap listening.

You had started to stutter over your words, making you furrow your eyebrows and frown as you talked. You were getting frustrated, stopping for a moment to take a deep breath, before continuing.

Springtrap hummed watching as you walked around and talked. Again, you started to stutter over more words, before groaning and crossing your arms. “I’m sorry- This is probably annoying you..” You stuttered and frowned down at Springtrap, who looked like he wasn’t bothered at all.

“none sense, dear. It isn’t annoying at all. How about you come sit down instead. Perhaps that will help?” Springtrap suggested. You slowly nodded and sat down in front of him. “A-Are you sure it isn’t annoying..? It must be hard trying to understand me..” You muttered, staring down at the ground below you.

Springtrap let out a hum, “I’m sure, darling. I promise you I am not annoyed with it. I know you can’t help it, so take your time, alright?” He rested a hand on your knee for reassurance.

You only nodded again, giving him a small smile. “..Okay.. thank you, Spring. That means a lot.. Just- It gets annoying sometimes and- I just wish I could control it.” You sighed.

“Don’t worry about it darling, how about you go back to talking about your interest, yes? You were getting to a very interesting part, I’d like to hear more.” Springtrap spoke, making your smile grow and nodding.

The two of you sat together, you continuing to talk and him listening. You could never annoy him..

[artscloudy]

hi!!! i love ur &team fics i think you write the members so well😭😭!! could i pls request a k oneshot (preferably on the longer side but wtv you are okay with doing!!) inspired by the song daylight or mastermind by taylor swift? maybe idol au too idrm? but complete creative reign to you!!! thank u smmmmm

Hello dear <3 Ngl writing this was a challenge and I loved every second of it. And thank you for the compliment!!!

The songs screamed to me to write this, but it's not really long, sorry...

Anyways, I hope you enjoy <3

A long night

I've been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night, and now I see daylight, I only see daylight.

It was all my design, 'cause I'm a mastermind.

Gender: female Warnings: i guess none

You kind of stumble around while you try to catch your breath. How the heck does the coreographer create those insanely difficult coreographies is beyond you. You can barely breath after a whole hour of dancing.

You've been trying to get this coreo right for the last week, but the problem is you don't seem to be making improvements.

You wipe your forehead with the sleeve of your long t-shirt and try to stand up properly. Thanking the teacher and greeting the other girls, you take back the sweather you discarded earlier and get out. Finally it's done.

It has been a really long and tiring day, but now you deserve your beloved coffee.

Are you going to sleep? Probably you'll not even try now since you need to go back and practice at least a little more. The next monthly evaluation is incredibly close, even if the last one feels like it was just yesterday. Therefore, the coffee is a good choice.

While you walk to the coffee shop, you try to keep yourself warm in your sweather. The weather's so cold during the night, but nights in Seoul are just something else. You've been here for a while now and the night never stops mesmerizing you for how pretty the streets are and how you feel loved: you, who's never been really loved by anyone before. You love practicing in the night, when the whole city is asleep and there's only you against the world, when you can take your time and fix every little detail with patience and love, taking care of yourself. A good coffee is all you need to keep going.

𓂃 𓂂 ⋆ ˳ْ  ˖ 𓂃

Coffee secured and ready to be drunk, you thank the guy at the register and take the wallet back.

Why doesn't this bag open? You curse in a low voice.

Your mum was right when she told you to get a bag that had a zip instead of such a complex type of lock, but when you got to the shop, this bag was definitely the prettiest.

While you fight with your bag, you are pushed sideways by a group of guys who are probably here to get a midnight ice-cream. You think for a monent to insult them or something, but in the end, you just side-eye the one who pushed you and keep trying to open your bag.

You end up on the floor, you don't even know how, but you probably bumped into someone and now your coffee is splashed everywhere, in particular on yourself. And the point is you can not even say anything because it's all your fault for not looking around.

"My shirt..." you look up and that's when you start to freak out. In front of you there's K.

He's one of the most popular guys in the whole company, and he was so popular even back in his trainee days, with the girls fangirling over him and desperatly trying to let him know how interested they were, even if it is not exactly allowed by your company. It's common for him to find a couple of sweets with handwritten letters here and there - he's even recieved one right in front of you just a couple of days ago.

But he's also really popular among guys for his perfect body and amazing personality. He's respectful towards superiors and teachers and even towards the other students and, when he works in a group, he leads well: just the perfect hyung.

You two had met before in random situations: once in the lobby of the company and you just bowed to each other and talked a bit - in a really, really embarassing small talk - once in a formal meeting and once in a training room. But you basically don't know him personally, except for all the voices about him.

Still, here he is, stunning and perfect as always and offering you a hand to lift you up the ground. And he's smiling to you, as if his shirt is not as stained as yours is - and it's all your fault. You can't even look at him in his eyes, but you remember from your previous encounters the warm color they have.

You accept the hand he is offering and you find it to be soft and gentle when holding yours; even his other hand that only slightly touches your side to help you regain your balance is delicate.

"I'm sorry for the coffee..." you try to tell him.

"Don't be, it's okay. I needed to wash it anyways after practice". And he laughs a bit. You smile in return, thankful for the fact he's not making it weight on you.

"I'm K by the way".

"Oh yes, I know". Ops.

"Do you?"

You'd like to slap yourself but you avoid doing so only because it would make the whole situation even worse. You opt to say the truth.

"Yes... you're kinda famous at the agency".

He laughs. You look at him in the eyes for the very first time since you spilled the coffee. You're probably red on your cheeks, since you feel them so warm. But he's just stunning while he laughs and thanks you for the judgement.

"Do you have time? We could take a coffee so you replace the one you dropped".

"Actually, I was thinking about practicing a little more" you tell him, feeling sorry to decline an invitation that would be every girl's (and boy's) dream.

"Oh, got it. The monthly evaluation is in just a week. You're a tough one. - he laughs - You must be the best trainee there".

And you feel a bit ashamed to confess that actually, you're one of the worst in your group. The teachers even told you that if you don't start improving faster, you could even never make it.

"And what's worst is that my weakness is dance. I can never get movements right and they are weak and I don't look catching while dancing".

"Ehy, I can definitely help you with that!"

"Oh no, I'm really terrible, I don't want to bother you".

"No, really, I'd love to help you. Dance is my specialty". He has an amused look in his eyes while he smirks to you and brushes his hair back with his hand.

Along with everything else, you think.

And just like that, the god of dance sent you an angel of dance to help your uncoordinated ass to debut.

And you agree to him helping you, pulling out all the courage you have inside to say yes and not to die there and then.

So, after ordering two more cups of coffee, he follows you back to the agency, trying to keep a low profile on the streets.

𓂃 𓂂 ⋆ ˳ْ  ˖ 𓂃

Once you get there, you both get changed, discarding the stained shirts and you show him the series of steps that you have to master for basically the next week.

He sits on the floor in a relaxed position, looking at you - in particular, focused on your body - with full attention.

"What's your action plan?"

"My action plan?"

"Yea, the strategy to master all of that in the short time you have".

"I don't have one".

"Y/n, if you fail to plan, you plan to fail. You need an action plan".

K stands up and, for just a split second , you think he's going to open the door, get out, and never come back again, but he actually just grabs a pen and some paper and come back to where you're sitting.

"Let's say we have five hours. You can practice the first chorus for the first hour. It's the most physically demanding part, and it probably weights the most during the evaluation, so we should definitely work on that first. And then we can focus on expression and..."

He keeps using "we": we should practice, we have time... You feel a bit warm in your chest to see how he takes helping you improve by the heart. He could be sleeping right now or practicing his own coreography for the comeback or anything, but he's here helping you. You can't fail.

𓂃 𓂂 ⋆ ˳ْ  ˖ 𓂃

"Y/n! Again!"

You've already been practicing for two hours and yes, the breaks are almost nonexistent, but till now he has kept it funny and light, with nice talking in between the practices and a lot of words of support.

The problem is this small sequence that he had to show you twice and then explain really slow and still you can't get it right.

He stands up and comes behind you.

You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks as soon as he comes closer.

"The leg should be bent like this, - he holds your knee and moves it a little downwards, causing shivers to start from your knee and reach your whole body - and your hand should reach your knee fastly this way". He grabs your hand and his touch is still as soft and gentle as earlier while he brings your hand to your knee, showing you the right timing.

"Why are you shivering, are you cold?"

You feel heat come up to your cheeks and you start mumbling some absolutely random words: "No, no, just a little tired..."

You look at the mirror to check the position he led uou into, but all you notice is your red face: you're blushing like crazy and that makes you even more embarassed. In the mirror, you meet K's eyes. A shiver runs up your spine again while you just can't move your eyes away from his face, so incredibly close to yours. His black hair partially covers his eyes and the hem of the tshirt leaves his neck exposed. He's just that attractive.

You can even feel his breath on your cheek when he speaks again: "Repeat this part again."

𓂃 𓂂 ⋆ ˳ْ  ˖ 𓂃

The music comes to a halt and you keep your final position for the standard three seconds.

"YAY, Y/n that was perfect!" He jumps and in a moment he is on his feet and hugging you.

For the first second you don't know how to react and the only thing you're thinking about is how sweaty you must be after all these training hours, but then you give in and hug him too.

Now you get why everyone says he has a warm personality.

He caresses your hair and then lets you go.

When you two are distant enough, you look into his eyes and see how much he's smiling to you, his cheeks just as red as yours are.

𓂃 𓂂 ⋆ ˳ْ  ˖ 𓂃

"Y/n, how far is your dorm?"

"Actually, I'd need to take the bus..."

"No way I'm letting you take the bus this late".

"Yes but how do I get there?"

"By car, of course. Jump in".

He stops near a car that bips segnaling it's now unlocked. It's a small black car, but seems to be in really good conditions.

"How is it possible that you always knew what I need?"

"I'm wonderful, I know" and shoots you an enormous smile.

𓂃 𓂂 ⋆ ˳ْ  ˖ 𓂃

"I love night car rides. They're magical". You two have all the windows down while he runs on the higway and you look outside at the lights that alternatively flash or shut and the brushes and the few other cars that pass you by in the opposite direction. You look at K, whose eyes are fixed on the road. You can see the shine in his dark pupils.

"They are. And what makes them special is the person you're with". And he shoots you a little look. You are a little puzzled, but cannot help but smile too.

For the rest of the ride you keep talking about your lives and you're surprised that K knows you so well, as if it's not the first time you two meet and laughs it off with the same excuse you used earlier: you're famous among trainees, but you know for sure it's a lie because you definitely are not that famous. He must have made researches about you and that thought only, even without a certainty, makes you shy. And then you two fall silent, but it feels comfortable nontheless.

"We're here" K looks out of his window to check the building you live in. Then turns to you.

"Thank you so much K, I can't express how much I needed this help and support. You seemed to have exactly anything I needed and to be exactly in the perfect place".

He laughs in a way that feels somehow awkward and then clears his throath: "Actually, there's something I must tell you." He is not looking at you anymore, while your eyes are fixed on him.

"The few times we met eachother have never neen fortunate accidents. I've always known where you were and desperatly tried to meet you."

You stay silent, hoping he continues. And he does: "The first encounter, at the company, when we first met, do you remember it? That was actually the only encounter I didn't plan and the one who went the worst, considering I just couldn't speak comfortably and made the whole thing embarassing". You laugh at the dear memory. You've never thought about how cute that first time was.

"And even tonight, I knew you'd go to that coffee shop and I knew your dancing lacked and you needed help".

"So you did foresee your tshirt splashed by coffee too?"

He laughs: "No, of course no!" And his answer made you laugh too.

"But I've wanted to meet you and speak this comfortably to you for so long. I just hope it's not too creepy". That's when he looks at you.

"K, it's not. I kinda figured out at some point - you smirk, while he sends you a puzzled look - becayse you knew too many things about me. Like, come on, you'd be a terrible spy. Anyways, seeing you, one of the most popular guys of the company, an amazing idol and an incredible person embarassed and shy like this... it's cute."

Then you turn your gaze down to your hands, unsure weather to continue or not, but after a while add: "And I kinda like you too".

He's still and looking at you for a while, but then, with the side of your eye, you see him moving closer to you, one hand still on the steering wheel. When you turn to look at him, his face is incredibly close to yours.

He leaves a soft peck on the side of your lips: it could be anything in between a respectful kiss on the cheek and an attempt to kiss you on the lips, but you don't complain.

"Y/n, if you'd like, we can meet again".

[urmomsspeciallady]

Chapter Seven- i wish i could

talk to you - ricky montgomery

POV: Leopold "Butters" Stotch

I woke up to the abrupt ringing of the school bell and my head shot up. Groups of my classmates were rushing out the door, ready for our lunch break. I sit there blinking slowly as I watch the cluster leave one by one. Letting out a yawn, I get out of my seat and stretch. I find the room empty once my eyes properly adjust.

I presume, much like my classmates, Mrs. Garrison had left for her lunch the first chance she got. There were bookbags shoved under desks, even some leaning on sides of desks, and more toppled in the middle of the desk rows. A couple of desks had notebooks out, the others remained bare, as did mine. Catching a glimpse of my desk, I find a fault in my last statement.

A piece of folded paper sat atop the smooth wooden surface of my desktop. I pick it up and unfold it.

Hey Sleeping Beauty, I can hear your snoring. - K ;)

P.S. Ur in my group for the project. I'll c ya at lunch and tell u abt it.

I felt the blood rush to my face and hastily folded the paper up and shoved it in my pocket. I then begin briskly walking, out of the classroom and towards the cafeteria.

The halls were empty and classrooms were dark. To add to the ambience, my shoes made those clear crisp footfall noises with each step. After a while, my pace slowed back down. I could take as long as I needed to get to lunch, besides, I enjoy the quiet here. I walk in uninterrupted peace, for a moment before I feel a hand fall on my shoulder.

"Hey, Buttercup," My eyebrows furrow. Did he just- "Are you finally awake?" It's probably nothing.

I let out a small chuckle, "Not yet." Ken's face faltered for a bit, so I opted to fill the silence. "What's the project we got?"

Kenny began to explain that it was a group project. Our group was me, Kyle, Clyde, and him. Kenny continued explaining which book they chose and what the basis of the project was.

I could hear his words, see his mouth moving, but none of which I processed. Instead, what my focus stuck on was Kenny himself.

His body moved in a pace that matched mine as we walked alongside each other. His golden hair framed his face. His face. His hood had always used to be so big on him that it sheltered his whole face, but now the hood lay atop Kenny's head slightly slouched. Kenny's cheeks were littered with freckles, his thin lips were shaped perfectly, his right eyebrow had a slit, his nose was almost grecian, everything about him looked like something straight from a magazine.

I could tell he was expecting a response from me once I heard my name. I raised my eyebrows and brought myself back to reality.

"... Butters parents will care, they'll probably just be happy he's 'working harder on his studies'. If it's a no, that's okay too. Maybe we can go to Kyle's house."

"Of course! Yeah that's totally fine! …For the project, right?"

Kenny gave a fist pump, shortly adding "Yes! Sweet, thanks bro! Is four good?" I nod and after a moment of silence, Kenny speaks again. "Cartman has been acting.. You know, recently. I'd find it weird if he didn't try to sabotage our project somehow. For one, Kyle is in our group and you know how that goes. Then for some reason he's pissed at me. And he's always been a bitch to you. I'm not sure what his stance is with Clyde, I just know he hates about everybody in our class except for his girlfriend."

I take a deep breath and my shoulders fall. "Thanks for letting me know, Kenny. I'm just. Not sure what to do about it?"

Kenny gently nudged an elbow in my arm and gave me that toothy smile of his. "Don't worry Bunny, I've got you."

I feel myself grin, and I mutter a thank you as we now turn into the cafeteria. Weaving through the tables, we find ours. In it sat Stan and Kyle, following them were a few empty spots. Kenny took his seat next to Kyle as I sat in the space next to Kenny. Across from us were Tweek, Craig, and Tolkien. The only other occupants were Eric, who was given two spaces of distance between him and Tolkien.

The conversation we had joined in on was one that was hard to follow. Eric was yelling, Kyle was trying not to laugh, Stan was laughing, Craig had scoffed, Tolkien's head rested face down on the table, and Tweek was attempting to take a drink from his water. I turned to look at Kenny, who was now solemn and silent.

"Want to get in the lunch line?" I leant over to Kenny and he nodded, soon following me as I got up.

He pushed his hands deep into his coat pockets and swayed on his feet as we stood in line. We passed through the line, and once I got to the end, I slid up quicker. I typed my lunch pin in the keypad, once, then twice, and thanked the lunch lady. I step back, wait a few seconds until I see Kenny reach the end of the line. He exchanges a nod with the lunch lady and joins me as we walk back to the table.

"I'm.." He gives an exaggerated face and pauses. "I'm still surprised that school lunch is free now." I turn my face and sit in my seat, my only response being a slight chuckle.

"Fucking hell, man. That's nasty." Kyle's lip pulled up in disgust.

"And this is why no one likes you." Craig joined in. "One. Just one normal conversation with you. Is that so much to ask?"

"You guys are just lame, once I'm rich and you're not, you guys are going to be sorry." Eric retorted.

Tolkien, entirely fed up, says "I still don't think being an asshole is something you can get rich off of."

"Is too! My mom told me so."

Kenny spoke between bites of his sandwich, "Yeah then why do you still live in a hotdog."

Eric stood up. "I am so done with this bullshit." Everyone glanced at one another, not a single one of them seemed shocked. "Screw you guys, I'm going home." He grabbed his lunch tray and stormed out of the room.

After taking a bite from his lunch, Craig deadpans. "He'll be back by next period."

----- end of chapter

< previous ~ next (coming asap!) >

[from-a-reckless-writer]

iv. couch.

read on ao3

To Lena: r u busy??? U didnt answer my calls. Dinner later?

To Lena: my place.

To Lena: Or yours! Can totally go to urs. If u want.

To Lena: Lena????

To Lena: where are u??

To Lena: Answer my calls

To Lena: Pls?

Kara rounds the corner of her hallway, keys bitten, dangling from her lips, as she types with both hands. Her 67th text message of the day to an MIA Lena Luthor sent. She fails to notice the creature lurking around the front of her door; dark fur shining under the cheap LED lights of Kara’s corridor.

She’s still deeply absorbed in her phone with worry, in the middle of jamming her keys in with one hand, when something furry brushes against her legs and Kara yelps.

She pulls the knob clean out of the wood in shock, her phone dropping to the floor loudly, the cat doing a duet with her with a startled yowl of her own.

Heart hammering and adrenaline racing, Kara looks down and sees the cat for the first time.

“Oh! Oh!” she gasps, “I didn’t see you there, buddy. I’m sorry for startling you!! I didn’t mean it.”

The door knob clatters loudly to the ground as it falls out of her grasp. And Kara sheepishly feels guilty for the hole in her door. But the cat meows loudly, catching her attention, as if in response to her apology.

She crouches down low, and reaches out a hand to touch the furball. She snaps a quick pic, sends it to Lena and pockets her phone.

To Lena: KITTY!!

“Oh, oh come here,” she coos, “where’s your collar? How’d you get here huh?”

The cat reminds her of Streaky. The first stray who ever took to her kindly. Although upon closer inspection, Kara realizes this one has striking emeralds for eyes, Streaky’s eyes were a more softer blue.

The cat surprisingly seems friendly, immediately leaning into Kara’s touch. Nosing at the inside of Kara’s wrist and it’s such a familiar gesture but she can’t seem to remember why.

And...oh, a small rumbling echoes through Kara’s palm!

Oh, they’re purring!

Kara doesn’t know how long she stays there crouched low exactly, but eventually, she stands up, takes her hand away, and picks up the damaged doorknob.

“Well, time for you to go home now, buddy,” she tells them, giving their head one last pat before dusting off her hands on her jacket.

“Go on, shooo. Shoo. Go home. I’m sure your human is looking for you.”

But the cat remains unmoving. It looks like they’ve decided to sit firmly in front of Kara’s doorstep, casually licking a paw, as if waiting for Kara to open her door.

“Are you actually waiting for me to open my door?” Kara makes a mental note to thank Rao that none of her neighbors can see her trying to hold a proper conversation with a cat.

“Look, kitty,” she says firmly, “I’m not your human.”

The cat just blinks owlishly at her. Eyes too green, too intelligent and-

Kara makes up her mind.

She turns her face skywards, takes a deep breath (This will probably backfire, she already knows. But she's always had a soft spot for strays.) and then she pushes her door wide open.

The cat races inside, cutting through Kara’s legs and almost tripping her.

“Well, somebody’s excited,” Kara mutters under her breath, she watches the cat head for her living room couch; watches as they pause all of a sudden, changes course and jumps onto Kara’s coffee table instead.

Where the cat then proceeds to knock down everything in close vicinity, even the picture frame of her and Lena together.

“Hey! No! Bad kitty-”

But the cat is already hopping down from her pedestal, landing on the frame directly.

And then things get weird.

The cat proceeds to stomp all over it, meows loud, like really loud; insanely loud for a cat their size.

Her paw seems to be almost pointing? At the other person in the frame.

“I-” Kara seems taken aback by the bizarre behavior, sure she knows cats are vastly different from dogs, but this…

This is just weird.

The cat’s meowing only seems to get louder.

How you land yourselves in these situations, Kara. I really just don’t know, at this point. She can almost hear Alex say.

“What are you- Are you- are you pointing? That’s- That’s Lena, yeah. That’s my best friend.”

At that, the cat seems to vibrate. They start clawing at Kara’s pant leg, meowing and meowing and meowing—

And then it hits her.

"-but it turns out that she’s a witch. And apparently, so am I."

The green, green eyes.

A pink nose nuzzling against her wrist.

“Lena?”

******

“Oh, Rao! Lena you’re a cat! What happened?! Oh, no, baby what did you do?”

Lena-

Lena The Cat—and okay, so she’s still wrapping her head around that one—just stays silent. She’s sitting on her lap, looking regal than any cat has any right to be. A judgmental look in her eyes.

Lena’s a cat. Cat’s can’t speak. Can’t answer Kara’s questions.

“Right. Sorry. Only meow,” Kara murmurs, embarrassed. For some reason even in cat form Lena manages to be intimidating.

“Okay so, uh d-does that mean you still understand me? Two meows for yes. One meow for no.”

Kara gets two meows.

“Okay, cool, cool. Great. You can still understand me, that's good.” Kara runs a hand down her spine, “Gosh, your fur is just so soft.”

She hears Lena give a small growl, body tensing, “Right. Right. Sorry. Not the time for pets.” Kara retracts her hand away.

“Uhm, so next question then, I guess? D-did you become a cat this morning? Were you testing out your uhm...gift?”

Lena meows twice. Kara nods, clenching and unclenching her fist underneath her chin. Fingers itching to run themselves through Lena’s soft fur again. Lena seems to sense this, and nuzzles her face into Kara’s hand, bumps against her repeatedly.

“Really?” Kara double-checks, giddy. If she were human Kara bets Lena would be rolling her eyes like she always does when Kara does something particularly dorky, but she just pushes her head firmer against Kara’s hand and meows twice.

“So uhm,” she starts, cautiously, noting Lena’s increasing purr, “is there like a spellbook for this or something? Something that can help you transform back?

Lena meows yes.

“Is it in The Tower or back at your place?”

There are no responses.

“Sorry, sorry lemme rephrase, is it in The Tower?”

She gets two consecutive meows.

Okay, to The Tower it is.

******

“Are you going to tell me why you’re cradling a cat in your cape or??” Alex raises a brow at her, a hand on her hip, left foot tapping impatiently. Her sister was heading out for the day, it looks like. It was just tough luck that Supergirl landed one minute before the elevator took Alex.

Crap. Now they have to explain. They didn’t talk about this. Lena still hasn’t told her if it was okay to tell people about her gift.

“I-I rescued it,” Kara says.

Well, that isn’t so far from the truth, right? She stares at the bundle in her arms, Lena the traitor staying silent all the while—green eyes shining all innocent at Kara.

Alex’s stares intensifies.

“From a tree,” Kara flounders, and Lena The Cat has the audacity to yawn, squirm and jump away from her arms. She lands gracefully, tail swishing up in the air and heads straight for the lab.

Alex eyes the cat suspiciously before turning back to Kara. She jabs a finger to her chest. “It better not have any fleas. It better not touch my training mat.”

“She won’t.”

Alex just shakes her head, rolls her eyes, grabs her helmet and walks to the elevator.

Before she goes though, Alex says, “You know, this is gonna sound weird, but I swear I think I saw that same cat slinking out of The Tower earlier this morning.”

“Alex, she’s literally a black cat. There are hundreds of black cats in the city.”

“You're being weirdly defensive about this. Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

Alex seems like she wants to say more, but the elevator dings, and she’s never been more grateful that Kelly makes Alex pick her up from work. Alex huffs out breath, before conceding and disappearing into the lift.

******

The camera flash is what gets Kara busted.

But is it really her fault if she walked in on a cute kitty, hunched over, meowing adorably, trying to flip over the pages of a thick spellbook, with her teeny-tiny bean paws?

Lena hisses at her, teeth-bared and fur puffy.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But you were just really, really, really cute okay?” She walks closer to the desk, carefully lifts a hand and scratches Lena behind the ear.

The hissing slowly devolves into purring, and Kara grins triumphantly. Lena lets herself be picked up after a few moments, Kara leafing through the pages for her.

“So, found anything yet?” She asks, cradling Lena close to her chest. A warm weight on Kara’s arms, and as much as she wants to get her real Lena back, she also isn’t too eager on giving up this version anytime soon. Then again, Kara thinks, it would be impossible for her to give up any version of Lena Luthor.

“Spell? Charm? Anything? Do you need to make a potion? Are we gonna get to make a potion? Oh, oh do you need a wand? Do you have a wa-”

Kara’s words get muffled as two black paws press against her lips. Lena’s green eyes narrowing at her. She meows at Kara. Loudly.

“Mkay, mkay. Shut up. Got it.”

Lena removes her paws, and Kara makes a gesture of zipping her lips together. This seems to appease Lena enough because the next second, a pink tongue darts out and she...licks Kara's nose.

“Did you- did you just lick me?” Kara gasps out.

Lena doesn’t even acknowledge her with a meow, just turns away and jumps out of her arms again. Before Kara can do anything about it though, her phone rings.

The screen lighting up with Andrea’s name.

“Danvers, I’ve got a story for you.”

******

“Alex, please, I’ll be quick. I promise. I’ll only be three hours at the most. Please just look after her,” she pleads, pouting and puppy eyes in full power.

It also helps that the cat burrito in her cape looks to be cooperating. Lena The Cat staring at Alex with wide round eyes.

Apparently, some governor was found dead downtown, and now Andrea wants her on the scene. She can’t just leave Lena all alone in The Tower. No matter how hard Lena’s been protesting, this is brand new territory for both of them. Nobody knows the extent of Lena’s powers.

Point is, Kara would feel a lot better if she were to leave Lena under the care of someone she trusts. Even if said someone, accuses Lena of being a stray with fleas. It's still better than leaving Lena all on her own.

“Ugh.” Alex groans and Kara knows she’s won. “If this cat causes trouble I will throw it out the window, Kara.”

“No!” Kara yells, distressed. “Don’t do that. She’ll behave. She promises.”

She puts her hand under Lena’s arms and raises her up to eye level—Simba style. “You promise to be good for Alex, don’t you?”

All she gets is a lot of squirming and screaming, there were also a lot of attempts at scratching Kara’s nose.

“See?” Kara says, chuckling nervously. “She’s telling you she’s good.”

Alex looks skeptical, her arms crossed against her chest.

Kara sets her down on the couch, and crouches down low.

She tries to pet her head, but Lena bites at her finger, she catches her teeth on the skin of her supersuit’s thumb slot. She bites deeper, her teeth accomplishing nothing but a few dents.

And oh, Rao she thinks she’s such a feral little cat but her pink adorable gummy snarl says otherwise.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be back. I promise,” she whispers, careful not to let Alex hear. “And then we’ll figure it out later, okay? The safest place for you right now is to be with Alex.”

She really doesn’t want to go, and based on Lena’s protests she doesn’t want Kara to go either. But well, Andrea had finally threatened to fire her if she disobeyed...which is...fair.

She’s aware she’s been doing a less than stellar job at being a journalist lately. Rao, what an understatement. This is basically her make it or break it.

“Look, I’ll be quick, promise. Be good to Alex,” Kara murmurs. She presses a kiss on Lena’s furry forehead. Lena finally unclenches her jaw and lets Kara go. The little whine she lets out, letting Kara know that she knows the battle’s lost.

“Both of you, be good,” Kara tells them sternly. “Alex, please don’t yeet my cat out of the window.”

Alex shrugs, staring at the cat with suspicion. “I make no promises.’

Lena is staring at Alex just as hostile. Great. They both deserve each other.

Kara sighs exasperatedly. Well, at least she tried.

******

She gets a very angry Alex Danvers on the line, right after she’s finished talking to some sources. It’s nighttime now, and when she checks her watch—yep, she’s left Lena in Alex’s care for more than six hours.

Crap.

“Hey, Al—”

“KARA IF YOU DON’T PICK UP THIS THIS THIS GODDAMNED HAIRBALL RIGHT NOW, YOU WILL NEVER SEE IT EVER AGAIN.”

There is loud meowing, and then, “What the- Get off! Get off me right no-”

The line clicks dead.

Kara Danvers quickly changes into an alley, manages to break the sound barrier.

******

It’s Kelly who opens the door.

“Hey, Kara,” she greets her. Kara is impatiently rocking on her heels, trying to peer past Kelly’s shoulders.

The place was quiet; ridiculously quiet, and Kara feels fear swoop in her belly.

“Please, tell me my cat is still alive,” Kara bursts out, Kelly just gives her a pained smile and oh, no, oh no.

She muscles her way past Kelly to a brooding Alex on the couch.

Lena is nowhere to be seen.

“Alex, Alex where’s my cat? Where is she? Where did you put her?”

Alex finally looks up at her, Kara taking notice of the red marks on her arm.

Oh no, Lena, what did you do?

“Calm down, I didn’t throw the little demon away. She’s-" Alex sing-songs before finishing, "on time-out.”

“Time-out?” Kara asks, voice shaking. Rao, does she really want to know.

Alex takes too long to answer, taking a swig of her beer first before pointing to a corner in the living room.

And there, she spots it.

It, being a small pile of laundry on the floor, next to an upside down hamper. A big white hamper housing one Lena Luthor. There's a crude cardboard sign stuck on it; "Kitty Jail". Alex has also stacked a few encyclopedia on top of it, no doubt an attempt to keep Lena from escaping.

“Oh! Oh, Lena!”

Kara superspeeds her way and scoops Lena up, the cat meowing immediately and curling into Kara’s chest.

“You named the cat after Lena?!”

Crap.

Kara turns around slowly, “Uhm yeah?”

Alex just shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”

“Her eyes reminded me of Lena, okay?!” Kara yells defensively, pressing tiny kisses onto Lena’s fur.

“I’m sorry that Alex has been such a meanie to you," she coos, "I know you didn’t deserve it, baby."

Alex seems to perk up at that, because she raises up from the couch. “That,” Alex jabs a finger in their direction, Kara cradles Lena protectively, “That baby ruined my couch and she so totally deserves all the mean! All the mean in the world, Kara!”

Lena hisses in her arms.

“No, no. That’s not true. Lena is baby and she’s perfect and you’re just a meanie.”

“She ruined my upholstery! She left hair all over the place and that’s not even to mention the scratching!”

“Because you were mean to her!”

Alex scoffs, eyes bulging wide in disbelief.

“Get out,” Alex says, her brows pinching comically, “Get out of my apartment before that little devil causes more damage.”

“Gladly,” Kara says, and Lena meows her assent. They make their way past Alex, Kara unaware that Lena has stuck out her little tongue at Alex over her shoulder.

“And she’s not a little devil!” Kara calls out.

Alex slams the door in her face.

******

That evening, Kara pores over a thick spellbook, eyes swimming with Latin symbols with a purring machine on her lap.

By midnight, Kara has managed to pass out on her couch, a black cat curled on her chest.

The spellbook lay open on her coffee table, forgotten.

******

The first sight that greets Kara when she wakes up are green eyes.

Green human eyes.

And then it hits her.

“Lena!”

The spell had blessedly wore off by morning, and Kara’s never been more glad to see the sunlight lighting up Lena’s face.

For a moment, Kara’s assaulted with the mental image of laying in a pool of sunlight with a black cat stretching leisurely next to her.

“Good morning,” Lena purrs, and oh Rao, that sound is much, much better than her meowing.

“You’re back!” Kara gasps in awe.

“I’m back,” she whispers, she’s still draped fully over Kara on the couch. A blanket covering them both.

“Rao, I missed you.” A palm comes up to cup her cheeks, Lena automatically nuzzling into the inside of her wrist.

“Mm, I missed me, too,” Lena tells her, face breaking into a small smile. Kara traces her fingers up and down Lena’s spine. Oh, how she’s missed touching Lena’s skin.

Wait-

Skin.

Is she-

“Lena,” Kara begins, swallowing. Her nerves not going unnoticed.

Lena raises a brow at her. “Kara?”

“Are you- uhm- ah. Are you naked right now?”

Lena’s eyes light up like a cat’s and Kara knows she’s in trouble.

“Mm. It seems that I am,” Lena says, and all Kara can do is gulp.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

special shoutout to @mike-wachowski, @sexybread-png and @thebreakfastgod for their cat expertise without whom this silly little fic would not be written.

[manias-wordcount]

Spike smut perhaps? Fem reader and spike are at a club for a bounty, standing really close together. Reader starts flirting with spike and it gets heated. possibly some degradation if ur okay with that. Thank you love.

Open Up (Spike Spiegel x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻 !

𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗯 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @dogsandrocketsocks

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 (𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝘁𝗮𝗱 𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻, 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗮 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

“Spike, I lost sight of our guy, and I can’t get in contact with the girls…Spike, do you read me? Spike! Damn it! Someone answer me right-”

“I think we’ve heard enough of that.” His voice is nothing but a low murmur as you watch him turn his earpiece off. You roll your eyes and smirk up at him, hands braced on your thighs as return your attention to your previous task. At the same moment, Jet’s voice over the comm disappears as Spike’s hand returns to its original place of carding through your hair. “Wouldn’t you say?”

Ideally, you wouldn’t be so quick to get on your knees for a guy in a club bathroom in Ganymede. But then again, it was your fault to begin with. Jet said none of you four were supposed to interact much, but the two of you just so happened to be posted across from each other at the central bar. For the better part of your night, you had spent your free time watching him sip on his drink and make passive conversation with girls who seemed intent on going home with him. And eye fucking him. Just like he was to you, whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

But you just couldn’t  stand  it. Pretending not to know him as other guys started to chat you up at the bar. And judging by the way he was so quick to intervene when someone started getting a little too touchy, he couldn’t stand it either. Taking Spike by the arm and pulling him away was at first a logical decision. You, him, Jet, and Faye were here undercover for a bounty. It would be easier to get close to the guy if you all stayed nameless and faceless until the moment you could all finally close in.

But somehow, you didn’t just end up out of the main dance floor. Your feet took you further than that as you mindlessly dragged him behind you. You had only noticed just how far away you had gotten from the bar when you were being pinned against the door of the guy’s bathroom with a hand up your dress. The song of some EDM group you don’t care about is mostly faded due to distance. But now, it feels like it’s completely  gone   Before long, you’re being pulled into the bathroom, into a stall, and watching as your handsome crewmate fumbles with his belt.

“ Take it out.”  He looked tense as he barked his order at you, folding the belt up and letting hang to the side wrapped around his fist. You couldn’t help but bite at your lip watching him like this. You could feel a wave of heat spread throughout your body as you greedily dug into his pants to pull out his dick. His palm cupped the back of your head in an almost loving hold, showing approval at your enthusiasm. “Hmm, looks like you can follow orders after all,  whore .”

Your breathing picked up as the less than affectionate pet name slipped out of his mouth so easily, but it only served as motivation to work faster. The second his cock sprung free, you wasted very little time admiring it. The imprint you could see and  feel  earlier when the two of you were sucking your face just outside the bathroom was enough to tell you that he wasn’t small by any means. The way it was pressed against your stomach, all hot and throbbing, had you guessing that he wasn’t going to be easy to fit in  any  hole. And you were  right.

The first thing you did was wrap your hand around it. He twitches in your grip, half-hard but growing quickly as you start stroking him teasingly. You’re barely able to get a few good pumps in before you feel a harsh tug at your hair.

“Suck.” He commands plainly, his eyebrows knit together as he gives your hair another tug for good measure. You don’t comply right away- at least, not in the way he wants you too. Instead, you angle it down towards you just a little bit and lick at the tip. The groan he lets out is downright sinful, acts as the only motivation to keep going at it your way for now. The taste of his salt precum assaults your tongue but you keep flicking your tongue at the very top of his tip, aiming to make him as frustrated as possible. “ Shit…”

His words come out breathlessly, and you see him squeeze his eyes shut and breathe heavily. You take the moment to bring your attention away from the head and just to run your tongue along the underside of his cock. You lick a long trail upwards, starting at the base and thoroughly coating it in your salvia. For a second, your tongue runs alongside part of a prominent vein and you can  feel  him shiver at your touch. You move one of your hands from his thighs and use it to cup his balls gently and let them just rest in your palm. He lets out another groan, this time a lot louder than before, and you can’t help but press a kiss to the part you’re at before continuing to travel upwards.

“Good?” You ask him, peering up at him through half-lidded eyes as you take your mouth away and start stroking him again. You’re lucky the bathroom is mostly empty and that one has commented

“Open your  fucking  mouth.“ He bites back instead, an annoyed look on his face. His hand leaves your hair before harshly grabbing at your jaw. You swallow dumbly, suddenly hyperaware of just how  wet  your panties are right now before opening your mouth out and sticking out your tongue. His hand leaves your jaw and places itself over the one you have wrapped around his dick. The warmth of his palm around your hand feels like  nothing  compared to the wave of heat you feel as Spike uses your own fingers to guide himself into your open and awaiting mouth. “There you go. Took you  fucking  long enough, slut . ”

You hum at his words while he slides his way in. He’s just a bit thicker than you expected originally, but he fills out your cheeks and rests on your tongue so nicely that you can’t complain. What really draws your attention is just how long he is. Easily above average and likely the longest you’ve had out of all your past hookups. He’s slow as he moves inwards, taking his time to enjoy all that you’re offering, so you sit there patiently and focus on warming what you have of him tucked in your mouth. By the time, he slides as much of himself inside of you, he’s practically touching the back of your throat, and there’s still a noticeable amount that’s not able to fit past your lips.

It’s hard forcing yourself to sit there with an open jaw and not choke. It’s even harder now that all Spike is doing is filling the air with murmured curses and other insults. But when he makes no move to guide you into sucking him off, you take initiative. Moving your head, so only half of him is still inside of you, you flick your tongue at the head once more. It’s an awkward angle, but you manage to get the reaction you were looking for. As he lets out another string of curses, you wrap your hand around the base of his dick and start to bob your head in time with your strokes.

“ Fuck,  who taught you how to suck dick like that?” Spike practically  growls  out as his hand finds itself in your hair again. You ignore the way his grip tightens in favor of just letting out another hum so he can feel the vibration of the sound for himself. It works just how you expected it to, with him throwing his head back and gritting his teeth to keep his composure. If you weren’t so occupied with giving him a blowjob and watching his every expression, you might have even smirked at him for almost losing himself like that. “...fucking whore , shit!”

You swirl your tongue around, choking slightly as he buck his hips suddenly. Still, you keep going despite the gagging, somehow managing to match his desperate thrusts with your own form of desperation and desire. Your knees ache from being pressed into the tile of the bathroom floor for so long. The stall is starting to feel cramped and small as Spike leans more into you in an effort to get off as quickly as you can. You’re clenching around  nothing  as you suck him off, the sound of other bathroom goers' reactions to someone getting brain right now just barely reaching your ear.

But you ignore their drunken aunts and cheers from the other side of the stall door. Just like you ignore Jet’s sudden calls for your attention and back up as he tries to link up with you and Spike again. In the end, it’s not worth it. The bounty wasn’t worth much, and the money comes and goes all the time. Besides, you’re a bit busy with something else right now. The guy can wait.

Well, until you have your own fun, at least.

[havin-a-wee]

could u ever do a smutty one where h and y/n had a fling in the best or are just each others occasional hook ups but when h has a date y/n gets like really upset and he finds out so he makes it up to her and confesses his feelings saying stuff like „y're my best girl, y'know that petal?“🥺👉🏻👈🏻 love ur writing beyond words, have an amazing day :))))

Date Night

warnings: unprotected sex

word count: 1.6k

to whoever sent in this ask im so so so sorry it literally took me like two months to answer it i feel so bad but i like how it turned out so i hope this makes up for it!

You shouldn’t be crying. You really shouldn’t. Yet tears are spilling down your face as you break down in choppy sobs, your chest heaving and your cheeks hot.

You have no right to be jealous, and you know that. You and Harry are only friends with benefits, and nothing else. He is allowed to be on a date right now, and it’s not his fault that you’ve managed to fall in love with him throughout the course of your relationship. You met through a mutual friend, began hanging out and then later started hooking up. And while he sees you as his best friend who he just happens to fuck sometimes, you see him as so much more. And you wish that maybe it could be different between you. That maybe he does reciprocate your feelings and if you just told him how you feel he’d tell you he feels the same way.

But as far as you know, there is no chance of that happening. Especially considering the fact that he’s currently at a restaurant with some hot blonde girl he met last week.

Your thoughts are put to a halt when your phone rings, and you pick it up to see none other than Harry himself calling. And as much as you want to decline the call, Harry would never decline yours no matter what, so with a hefty sigh you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hi”

“Hey petal, the date was a bust, all she wanted t’talk about was m’money.” Harry laughs weakly over the phone, and you smile at the news that it didn’t work out. You shouldn’t be happy about it, and it does make you feel guilty because Harry deserves happiness. You just wish he could find that happiness with you.

Lost in your own train of thought, you forget that you’re supposed to be suppressing your tears. Another salty droplet rolls down your cheek and your sniffle.

Suddenly, Harry begins talking again, and that’s when you realize your mistake. “Petal? Y’okay? Sounds like y’crying.” His voice immediately switches from joking to sympathetic and worried, and you can imagine how he looks right now, creased forehead and wide eyes.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You wipe the tear off your cheek with the sleeve of your hoodie, clearing your throat to try and hide the sound of your throat that's sore from crying.

“No y’not y/n, I know what y’crying sounds like. M’already going in the direction of y’house so m’coming over and staying till’ y’tell me what's wrong.”

The tone of his voice tells you there’s no changing his mind, so you sigh and murmur an “okay” before hanging up the phone.

It took about five minutes for Harry to knock on the door. During that time, you went into your bathroom and attempted to hide the red, puffy skin that had overtaken your cheeks. It didn’t really work, and you were still trying to hide it when you heard him knock. So with a disappointed sigh, you slump over to the door and open it.

Harry steps in quickly, placing his coat on a hanger and then turning back to you.

“What’s wrong pet, hmm?” He places his ringed hand on your cheek, thumb running over the skin that's been reddened from your tears.

And despite the years you’ve spent hiding your feelings, despite the hours you’ve had to listen to Harry retell stories about his hookups, despite the yearning you’ve felt for your best friend since you met him, this was your breaking point. Tear after tear after tear. They flow uncontrollably down your face and all you can manage to do is look up at Harry. He pulls you into him, placing one hand behind your head and one around your waist.

And you just cry into Harry’s shoulder.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there, but Harry eventually brings you couch, and as soon as he sits you both down you curl up into his warm chest.

“Y’gonna tell me what’s wrong? Y’don’t ‘ave to, just hate seeing yeh cry.”

Finally, you pick up your head from where it’s tucked into his torso.

It might be the daze you’re in from the emotions swirling through your head. It might be the glass of wine you downed earlier to help drown out the feeling of jealousy. It might be all the pent up frustration from years of pining for someone you could never have. Or it might have been none of those things. Whatever it was, there was something inside of you that snapped. Like a damn collapsing and letting the water topple over and flood everything. The barrier you spent so long building broke in two, allowing all of those emotions to spill out.

“I love you Harry.” His eyes snapped open, and his mouth moved to speak, but you cut him off. “And not just as a friend. I’ve always loved you, and I know that if you don’t feel the same way, things will be awkward, but I don’t care anymore. Seeing you excited to go out with another girl hurt, because all I’ve wanted for so long was for that girl to be me.”

He stares at you. There was a second where you debated getting up and running out of the house, afraid of what his response would be. But just before you could put that plan into action, his lips collided with yours.

Your mouth meld perfectly, soft lips biting and nipping at each other. His tongue slips past your parted lips and twirls around your own. You’re breathless by the time he disconnects, the feeling that you had been longing for sent your mind spinning.

“Y’don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that,” he pants, green irises staring deeply into yours. Without another word, you lean in and kiss him again, this time with more vigor than before. Much to your dismay, he separates the two of you again, however he keeps his arms tangled around your body and holds you close.

“Y're my best girl, y'know that petal? None of those silly girls could ever replace you.”

As your lips touch for the third time, it’s clear that both of you have been waiting for this moment for a long time. You savor the feeling, taking short moments to pause and soak in the feeling of his lips on yours.

Slowly, his hand creeps down the small of your back, but you can tell he’s hesitant to move it down further. But you want this, so you remove the hand that’s stroking his hair and place it on his, moving his hand down to your ass manually. He pulls his lips away, looking into your eyes for a sign of confirmation. You realize what he’s looking for, so you nod vigorously in response.

Quickly, he lifts himself off the couch, placing you on your back and positioning himself on top of you.

“H- please, I want you to make love to me,” you whine. His expression fills with hunger and he reaches to unbutton his jeans, shimmying them off quickly and tossing them to the ground. You can see the bulge pressed up against his boxers, and you reach out to palm him through the thin material.

“Fuck petal, y’gonna be the death o’me, y’know that?”

Harry dives into kiss you, using one of his hands to pull down your soft pajama shorts along with your panties. “Harry-”

“I gotchu petal, I gotchu, don’t worry.”

You assist him in pulling off his boxers, his large erection springing out. He’s huge, but you can’t say you didn’t expect it. The precome on his tip is calling for you to lick it, but you just want him to be inside of you, so you make a mental note to do that sometime soon. He grips the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance. “M’gonna go slow alright?”

You hum your approval, and he responds by pushing the head inside your tight, soaking hole. Even with just an inch inside, you know it’s going to be a stretch, so you take a deep breath and hold onto his shoulders.

Inch by inch, he pushes himself inside of you. Harry stills for a minute, sensing the discomfort in your demeanor. Luckily, it doesn’t take long for the pain to subside and the pleasure to kick in, and soon enough you are moaning out for him to move.

He takes your instructions swiftly, pulling almost all the way out of you until quickly thrusting himself fully back in. “Fuck!”

Your cries are muffled when he leans down to kiss you, his hips continuing to rock as he pushes his length into you.

The air is hot, filled with moans and the smell of sex. You haven’t ever felt this good in your life, especially when he thrusts in extra deep and hits that special spot inside of you. “Harry- god,”

“Sweet girl, am I makin’ yeh feel good?”

“Mhm..”

“Tell me petal, who makes y’feel like this?”

“Harry! Only Harry,”

“Good girl.”

He slams into you, speeding up his thrusts and colliding his hips with yours. Both of you are groaning messes, caught up in the moment and unable to form any coherent sentences. You feel his cock twitch inside of you, and you know you’re close too by the way your stomach and pussy are clenching. He can feel it too, hitting deeper inside of you to bring you to your climax.

“God Y/N, I love you so fuckin much.”

That was all it took for your orgasm to come crashing down, coursing through your body with strength and fervor. The feeling of you squeezing as you came sent Harry over the edge, his milky cum shooting into your pussy and covering the soft walls.

You don’t know if this means you’re dating or not, or where his head is at. All you know is that you love him, and he loves you. And that’s enough for you.

[lacharcutiere]

Can I request some sad angst please? 😞Headcancons or scenario - up to you! Kuroo and osamu wanting to get back with their ex because they realised breaking up was a bad decision. Unfortunately their ex has already moved on/don’t have the heart to be in a relationship with them anymore 😞

i know, i know that she hates me

[kuroo tetsurō, miya osamu]

hellooo anon i’m so sorry this ask is from forever ago so i hope u find this:,,,) but here u go !! in some sick way i enjoyed writing this whoops

sfw, angst // scumbag - goody grace & blink-182

haikyū!! masterlist

☾𓆙𓂻

kuroo tetsurō [is typing]

Can we talk?

it’s been almost two months since he last heard from you, and tetsu knows he’s waited far too long. but, then again, he wasn’t waiting to reach out to you—he was waiting for that ache in the pit of his stomach to finally subside, to meet someone else, to be okay on his own again. it didn’t work out the way he hoped it would, and now, on the verge of forgetting the sound of your voice, he can’t take it anymore.

it takes a whole day to even get a response. he knows he can’t blame you—it’s his fault he’s where he is in the first place.

what about

two words, nineteen hours. it’s taken nineteen hours to get two words out of you, and his pride is too shattered to care about how excited he is to have gotten those two words. nineteen hours; he’s had trouble sleeping the past couple weeks. he’s had trouble sleeping since he started thinking about whether your bed is still empty, too.

us? Please

two more words; they take him seven minutes to decide on. he doesn’t even know how to answer you. or he does, he wants to talk about being with you again, he wants to talk about having you back at his side, even just for a night, but he doesn’t want you to think… he doesn’t even know. so instead, he keeps it simple.

it’s been months

his breath catches for a moment as he sees you typing out another string of words, hoping that you mean it’s been months, i’ve missed u or it’s been months and u think a text is enough? cal me or it’s been months, i kinda miss ur face.

instead he gets,

what’s left to talk abt now?

there’s no pride left for him to swallow, you were—you are—his pride. you are literally his pride and joy; there’s been none of that since he realized, like, really realized you were gone. there’s no pride left for him to swallow and so he doesn’t hesitate—doesn’t even think—before typing,

I miss you so much.

and hitting send.

so then what do u want?

To see you?

tetsuro

Hm?

i know u

u change for like a week n then it will go back to how it always was

and you’ll be the one w the audacity to think i’m the problem again. its not worth it

tetsu holds his breath.

Do you miss me?

and your response brings him damn near tears.

yes, but that doesn’t make it worth it.

and then he sees you’re still typing.

tetsu

god, he misses you calling him that. what comes next pushes him over the edge.

i love u

but we’re better off like this

a tear drips onto his phone screen as he types,

Can we at least be friends now?

tetsu, u know urself. and u know me

we’d never be able to just be friends.

he wonders how something could be so comforting and yet so painful to hear all at the same time.

miya osamu

looking back, samu doesn't know why he always used to pick fights with you. and he doesn't know what sort of fucked up thought process led him to using the fights that he started as justification to leave you. he doesn't understand how he could possibly have had eyes for anyone else while you were right in front of him—he'd never cheated, no, but god, did he revel in your jealousy.

and where had that gotten him? nowhere, evidently, but a lonely apartment downtown that never feels like home, no matter how long he's lived there.

it hurts him even more to know that it was you, the one without blame, who had called just days after he left, asking him to please just tell me what's wrong, just talk to me, samu. and all he'd given was some vague, half-assed response, and then he'd said nothing until you'd finally given up and ended the call.

she wanted me, he thinks downing the remnants of a can of beer, the untouched bowl of pork and rice in front of him too cold now to be appetizing anymore. she still wanted me; now, for maybe the first time, he understands how much that really meant. she gave up, and now it's just me.

it's just him; tsumu's never around much, always moving from one place to another with the team, and as much as samu loves to lose himself in his work, there's no human connection there. and anyway, it's not as fun without someone to come home to every night.

he reaches for his phone, ready to type a text out to you, until he opens his messages to find the last thing you sent him, now nearly three months ago.

can't we j figure something out ?

i don't think so

you hadn't responded to that. she gave up. but then it dawns on him, painfully, but i gave up on her first.

[anyoneseenadam]

Hiii. if you're still taking requests can you do a azriel one? (Can't get enough of him🤭🥰) can you witte one where azriel gets really badly hurt on a mission and barely makes it back and the reader freaking out and being really worried.?

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: angst, graphic descriptions of blood and violence, sad shiz but happy ending

a/n: this isn’t as angsty as I planned but it’s a lil, pls comment if you like it and tell me ur thoughts <33

——————————————————————————-

Azriel had promised you the mission would be quick. In and out were his exact words.

You should’ve known better than to trust him when he spoke so casually about breaking into a palace in the human courts, you should’ve known that something would go horribly, inconceivably wrong. But when he smiled at you and held you against him, swaying from side to side you were too lost in his easy lies to care.

You had started going on more missions with him recently. While you weren’t a spy, you had an incredible knack for lying. Cassian joked that you were just a brat but even he couldn’t deny that you were talented when it came to batting your eyes and pressing a hand gently enough on a soldier’s arm that they would bend to your every will.

You and Azriel had also discovered that the most effective torture method was to trick whoever you had taken into a false sense of security, you would use a gentle tone and motherlike care to make them feel safe. And then they were always willing to speak, believing that once Azriel stopped his ministrations they could fall into the safety of your arms.

It was a good tactic and even Azriel was impressed when you first tried it. But that never quelled his protectiveness, the way an arm would find its way secured around your waist as soon as you had secured the information you needed, or the way he kissed you fiercely in his shadows when he was tired of watching men flirt with you.

The truth was you and Azriel were so completely in love, no amount of flirting could ever take you from the gentle but possessive grip of your mate. In some ways that’s what kept you going, knowing that at the end of the day you didn’t have to plaster on a fake smile and sweet voice.

At the end of the day, in the warmth and comfort of your share home you were yourself. You could wear the same jumper for weeks straight and laugh at crude jokes. You could do your makeup at 3am and then turn to your half-asleep mate with a pout, whining until he caved and let you do his makeup too.

But in the end, your complete devotion would come back to bite you in the ass.

It was your fault, or so you believed. If you had just kept your eyes on the general with bad breath and a crooked nose you wouldn’t be in this mess. But when he got to close your eyes flickered to were your mate stood, concealed in shadows, and through all the generals personal hygiene faults, he had been trained to notice subtle looks that gave you away.

He had grabbed you so tightly that you couldn’t help but yelp, drawing Azriel’s attention to you. And while you had disabled the general quickly you now had hoards of guards chasing you out of an area that was guarded against winnowing.

Azriel hadn’t wasted a second. You were his top priority and so he had abandoned the plan and grabbed you as quickly as he could, gathering you into his arms as he flew to the exit. You had spluttered apologies to him as he flew, your eyes trained on the guards chasing you, the guards who were now drawing bows.

Azriel was quick but the arrows were quicker. You threw your hands out, trying to bat off as many of them as you could with the limited power you held. But as concentrated as you were on the ones directed to his wings, you didn’t see the one aiming for his lower torso until you felt it graze you from where it left his body.

He grunted as you swore, finally out of the barriers as he winnowed to as close to home as he could. But while injured that wasn’t easy and you found yourselves standing in a wooded area, Azriel dropping you down much more roughly than usual, swearing as he leaned against a tree.

“Okay, okay I can fix this, you’re going to be fine.” You spoke, mainly to yourself as the panic inside you grew. You scanned the area, spotting a cave not too far off, not wanting to leave Azriel in the open when you had no idea what could be in these woods.

“C’mon baby, let’s go this way.” You slung an arm around him, just above the wound and began making your slow trek to the small cave. As soon as you had him sat down, you knelt in front of him, tears in your eyes as you cut open his top, so you had access to the wound beneath.

“Why are you crying sweetheart?” you heard him ask and you rolled your eyes, wiping away the stray tears.

“Why do you think dumbass,” you said, forcing a smile when he huffed a laugh.

“You can’t be mean to me right now,” he complained as you set about cutting off both ends of the arrow so you could remove it safely, wincing when he hissed, gritting his teeth.

You finally had both ends cut off and went to pull it out, removing your shawl and preparing to press it against the wound that was spouting far too much blood. You looked up at him with your hands pressed shakily against his wound and saw his skin was pale and sweaty, his eyes drooping as they tried to close. He fell forward slightly but you held him upright with your shoulder, panic rushing through you, white hot.

“Azriel c’mon no, none of that. You’ve got to stay awake baby, you’re too heavy for me.” You begged; your hands pressed tightly against his wound as you let the tears fall freely. You eventually had to pull away, moving him so he was leaning against the cave wall, taking extra precaution to ensure his head didn’t get hurt.

His eyes cracked open when he felt your blood-soaked palm press gently against his face, glassy and barely present.

“Hey, hey I need you to stay with me, okay?” you tried to smile, wanting to offer him any semblance of comfort.

“Always baby,” he whispered, and you smiled, pulling your hands away slightly and smiling when you saw the wound healing externally already.

“What are you getting me for solstice?” you asked, wanting to keep him awake and speaking.

“Not telling.” He muttered and you laughed.

“You have to, we have to talk about something.” You joked, pulling a hand away just long enough to wipe your eyes as you focused on his face.

“I had a few ideas; nothing seems good enough.” He muttered and you laughed.

“Tell me.”

“Well first I thought a necklace, books, maybe art supplies or something but that’s all boring,” he whispered, and you smiled, nodding.

“If it’s from you it won’t be boring,” you smiled, hands still pressed tightly against his wound.

“Well I also thought I could get you your own truthteller, maybe one with a pink handle.” He joked.

“Well you know full well I would love that, maybe baby pink with little white hearts on it,” he smiled at you, his head lulling slightly forward. You reached up to him again holding his head gently in your hands, before you lay him down, covering him in the rest of your shawl.

“You plan that then, I’m going to go get wood and we’ll start a fire okay, keep you warm.” You stroked his face gently, pressing a kiss onto his forehead.

“Be safe,” he grabbed your hand as you stood to leave,

“You first.”

--

Your luck apparently ran out as soon as you looked at Azriel, given as soon as you walked out the cave the heavens opened, and you were soaked to the skin in the seconds. You grabbed as much wood as you could straight away, throwing it into the dry cave.

You then ventured further out, finding a rabbit, and killing and cleaning it out as quickly as you could, practically running back to the cave. You knelt down, starting a small fire, and removing your now dirty and completely soaked dress, ringing out your hair.

You then moved back to Azriel, brining him closer to the fire as you cooked speared the rabbit over it, cooking all the meat you could salvage of its small body.

“You’re so cold,” he muttered, pressing his nose into your bare skin as you shivered, moving even closer to the fire.

“Ah you know what they say, cold hands, cold heart.”

“I don’t think that’s the-“

“Shh,” you muttered, curling into him as you pressed together trying to steal some warmth from each other.

“If I get ill I’m going to kill you.” You whispered into his neck, and he chuckled, clenching his teeth when he moved to soon and your head shot up to him.

“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” he shook his head, tightening his arms around you.

“No you’re alright,” he whispered. You lay there for a while longer, Azriel’s body limp, all his energy going into healing the deep wound in his side. Yours on the other hand was tense, ears perking up at any sound, half expecting a pack of rabid wolves to come eat you the second you allowed yourself to relax. When the rabbit was finished, you picked it apart, feeding it to Azriel gently, determined to get his energy back.

He was still so pale and no matter how hard you tried, nothing could quell the nausea in your stomach. Every time you looked at him when he closed his eyes your heart dropped, your anxiety telling you that this might just be the last time you ever see him.

You didn’t sleep all night, instead staying pressed against him, shivering in your undergarments as your dress dried by the fire. You regularly checked his pulse, temperature, breathing and whatever else you could, too afraid to take your eyes off of him for even a second.

By the time the sun finally rose, Azriel’s complexion had evened out and the wound in his side was puckering into a pink scar. You were beyond relieved, fussing over him when he woke up like the mother you often pretended to be.

You pulled your dress back on and stumbled to a near-by river to collect him some water, picking a species of berries you recognised along the way, and actively ignoring the cough you had developed over night.

You got back to the cave and almost cried in relief when you saw him sitting up, smothering the burning embers that used to be your fire. He looked over to you as you padded in and swore, standing to come to you.

“You look like shit what happened?” he asked, worry coating his features.

“Hey! I spent all night looking after you asshole,” you shoved him gently but he held tight, holding your chin in his slender fingers as he forced you to look at him.

“Shit it was raining last night,”

“Yeah?” you asked as he shook his head.

“That’s why you were so cold, c’mon let’s get you home you’re ill.” He muttered as you wildly protested.

“I’m fine, you need to rest,” you pointed at him, but he brushed you off, gathering you in his arms to winnow home.

“We can rest together, at home, in bed.” He stated, not leaving any room for argument so you relaxed in his arms, your head pressed against his shoulder.

“Okay,” you conceded, your voice small as he smiled down at you.

“Thank you for looking after me darling,” his voice was filled with sincerity, and you snuggled closer into him.

“Anytime.” You whispered as he winnowed you away, only vaguely aware of the feeling of him placing you down on your bed and curling around your back, arms tight and secure.

[fukurodanni]

love for the rich and emotionally stunted: a comprehensive guide

ch. 2/7 -- prev. -- next. pairing: jumin han x f!reader warnings: n/a series summary: in the months following the incident with his father's most recent paramour, glam choi, the corporate heir of C&R finds himself discovering exactly what it is that makes a person in love so blind. ao3 link

note: sticking a read more right at the beginning. u kno how it is. thank you for sticking around i'll try my best to keep updates within a week or so!

(weeks prior.)

Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.

Jumin Han

She talked to me today.

ZEN

??

Who?

707

She??

There’s a she?!

Jumin Han

Oh.

I must have neglected to mention it.

ZEN

????

Last time there was a “she”...

Jumin Han

… No.

There’s a woman at my office.

Jaehee Kang

Does she work for you?

Jumin Han

Yes

707

That took an awfully long time for you to type lolol

Are you sure~~

Jumin Han

Yes. She wears a lanyard.

Jaehee Kang

Do you not know her name??

Jumin Han

I should think it would seem impolite after… all that.

Jaehee Kang

???

ZEN

?????

All that WHAT?

Jumin Han

I only caught a glimpse of her lanyard. I don’t know.

ZEN

Dodged my question… T_T

Jaehee Kang

Is this that woman you see in the mornings?

Jumin Han

How did you ....

ZEN

?!?!

707

Is our Jumin finally getting some?!

I’m so proud. Haha T_T

Jumin Han

Getting some… what?

Jaehee Kang

I can look into her.

For research purposes. Of course^^

Jumin Han

;;;

I only just started seeing her this month.

At the door. Seeing her at the door.

707

Seeing her OTL

Maybe she’s your future lover come to save you^^

Jumin Han

I doubt that.

ZEN

Yeah lolol

I doubt it too

And right after the Choi thing?? No way.

707

T_T

Ur right

There’s no way...

-

“Do you play video games, Mr Han?”

That’s a new one. “Where would I find the time?” He asks, thinking of Yoosung. “It’s a useless hobby.”

“That was a quick answer,” you reply. “Who hurt you?”

Jumin raises a brow, inquisitive. “No one.”

“Okay,” you say, the beginnings of a grin playing on your lips. “Who ruined video games for you?”

He thinks of the dark smudges under Yoosung’s eyes, the awful typos and the messages at 3am. It’s only a little funny. The door closes behind them. “No one in particular.”

“You’re smiling, Mr Han. Just a little.” You smile too at this, tilting your head in that curious way of yours. When you reach the lobby and then your separate ways, Jumin spares a glance at you.

He wants to say something more, something lodged very deep in his throat that comes out dry breath. He’s never been too good at small-talk, not with colleagues, not with business outside of work. He wants to be, just a little.

He’s not quite sure how that came to be.

-

It’s beyond embarrassing the way he comes up to you in the cafeteria. “You work here,” he says, a very belated realization.

You blink a few times, as if processing. “Yes,” you say slowly. “I have a lanyard.” You wave the offending item around and Jumin finally, finally catches a glimpse of your name.

“I see,” Jumin says, because that’s all he really can say. “Work hard.”

He consults his phone right away, willing the heat from his face and opening the messenger app. It goes as well as expected when he mentions it so vaguely-- Hyun rags on him for his lack of conversational skills and Yoosung drops a line or two about his own miserable love life. In any case, Assistant Kang’s information on you had only reached him earlier today and in a way he’s still coping. It had been baffling to say the least, finally having everything in front of him rather than scattered in the bits and pieces of your dialogue.

You work, technically, in the same position Assistant Kang does. Only in the fashion department, of which Jumin had strategically ignored after Echo Girl and the Chois. It really isn’t his fault he hadn’t noticed you-- not since before this month when you began arriving so consistently.

“Something on your mind?” Assistant Kang asks, looking up from where she’s shuffling through a stack of papers. It isn’t unusual for her to break the silence with a quip-- she’s always been good at easing into a mode of conversation that takes the edge off. As a good assistant and employee should, of course. Jumin wonders if he should relay this to her.

“Nothing,” he says instead, because surely she already knows. “Is it polite to bring gifts for someone you’re sure you will be seeing every morning?”

She raises a thin brow. “Who-- that woman at the fashion department?”

Jumin deigns not to answer right away, looking down at the state of his nails and the tick of his wristwatch. “Surely there must be some etiquette about that.”

-

Jaehee Kang

Buy her coffee.

ZEN

Get her a promotion lol

707

A new car!!!

Yoosung★

Maybr a nicce pen

??

-

“Any favorite TV shows?” You ask one morning. “Personally, I’m fond of office romances.”

Jumin lags for a moment, waiting to catch up. It isn’t an unusual occurrence. “Is that an innuendo?”

You smile, a little flushed-looking, and wave a hand. “Nope. Not at all.” When you look at the second coffee in his hand, though, it seems you need a second to catch up yourself. You’d mentioned offhandedly how you take your coffee the day before, and today something had stopped him at the threshold of the coffee shop he stops at every morning. Funny how things work like that.

“This is for you,” he says determinedly, and you smile a little but there’s still an edge.

“You dodged my question.” You state simply. Jumin does not know what to say.

He thinks about it for a moment, really thinks about it. The only thing that really comes to mind are the Sunday morning programs, and he doesn’t really know them off the top of his head. Maybe the morning news. “No TV shows. Next question.”

“Okay then,” you say, “Any pet peeves?”

Jumin smiles a little. It isn’t really conscious, but he’s finally figured out a way to respond and he just hopes it takes well. “Women who stop me at the door in the morning.”

“Oh,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. You hum appreciatively. He feels strangely, indirectly accomplished. “Shame. Mine’s men who give me three word responses when I ask them things.”

He scoffs, although it isn’t as hard as it usually comes out. “I answered that in a sentence.” He says, very assuredly. When he looks back at you there’s a softer smile at your lips, rounded at the corners and not quite so mischievous as he’s seen it look before. It looks fond.

“I know,” you reply. He feels a little warmer now, turning the corner where you two part ways. You offer him a two-fingered salute, a “See you in the morning!” and a final turn.

And then you’re gone.

-

The next time the conversation lingers long past the lobby it’s because you’ve coaxed him into talking about Elizabeth III. There’s a point where you’ve reached the elevator and he’s talking to you about her care routine and the minutiae of what it takes to keep her fur so soft and pristine (much of it is her own work and her natural beauty-- of course) and he’s only barely aware of how long he’s been going on, but he pauses to look at you. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, between Jaehee’s hesitancy and Luciel’s rabid praise and Hyun’s outright disgust--

But there’s something about the way you’re looking at him when he’s finished, curiouser and half-curved into a smile. And he’s been on the receiving end of that before-- his father’s lovers, interviewers and subordinates-- but none of them have ever seemed so affectionate.

He’s seen the same look before when it’s Jaehee with a new photocard, the way Yoosung danced around Rika. It’s the glint in Luciel’s glasses when he gets to working and it’s something, something.

You look like you’ve seen something beautiful.

Which is understandable to him, really, having just shown you pictures of his Elizabeth III. What he understands less is the way you’re looking at him and not the open phone, caught up in a silence that seems way too heavy for a conversation about his cat. Even when the elevator dings it’s with some trepidation that you leave first, a memory, a discovery pulled taut between you two.

“I hope I get to meet her sometime,” you say.

Jumin nods, wordless. The delight on your face at such a simple gesture fixates itself in the forefront of his mind until he returns home to Elizabeth, flickering like hell and unbidden and unexpected but not exactly unwelcome. It’s just as confusing to him as it sounds on paper.

-

Somehow Jaehee gets to you first.

For all the time he’s spent working with Jaehee, working around her and in her general proximity, he doesn’t actually know what time she gets into the building. She seems like an inevitability, something constant and fixed and always there.

So when he holds the door open for two women, Jumin is feeling like he had seen something he wasn’t supposed to. Especially since the two of you seem to be chatting so jovially, shaking her hand with both of yours when you go to part.

There’s another something clogging his throat, a cloying want and a halfhearted desire to draw that same laugh from you, that same open brightness. He hasn’t let himself feel so much about one person-- one particular and fixed point in his life. Jumin feels like he’s chasing-- some feeling, some unnamed ball of fire-- a meteor, blazing and brilliant and too much to be real.

It’s too much to be compared to anything else, not when Sarah Choi was an unlit match next to what a beaming bonfire you are. Suddenly Jumin feels more tightly wound than he usually does.

And really, truly, it feels like a lot to handle, so he turns on his heel after silently handing you the coffee and begins to march. It feels like karmic debt for not having experienced these things as a schoolboy, and then only once as an adult. He doesn’t even know if the one time counted.

“Mr Han--” you say, and it happens at the same time he holds his breath to turn again. Just to look, to see if you appeared as off kilter as he felt. Maybe the world had rotated wrong today.

You stop there in your tracks and he really does believe for a moment that the world has gone astray-- because then it would explain the way air isn’t getting to his lungs right. He inhales just to make sure and before any other dialogue comes from your lips he asks, “Walk with me?”

You both take the elevator then.

-

Jaehee Kang

She’s a very nice woman.

Yoosung★

Huh?

707

U met her?!?!!

Tell me everything

-

It makes your mornings longer, the introduction of the elevator route. He isn’t sure how it became mutual agreement and routine, the same way the cup of coffee steams in your hands and the way you ask after Elizabeth III. The way the door gets held open.

Jumin isn’t sure how many mornings go by, how many of them are spent dreading the chime of the elevator, but one of them brings a much quieter you. And you’re usually such a whirlwind of life, pulling him toward and towards you-- he’d be lying to himself more than usual if he said he wasn’t worried.

You look like you’re steeling yourself too, and you’ve never done that-- there isn’t a thing you’ve said to him that was measured or prepared. You’re kind of like an overexcited puppy, and he’s never been too fond of dogs.

He feels something slide out of place, something like a realization that’s far grander than he knows, hovering at the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t know what it is yet, not really. He’s barely out of his head, ready to ask if you’re alright--

And you cut him off. Like you did that first morning, knocking the breath from his lungs and everything else out of place. Jumin likes things neat and tidy, likes things where they should be, where he’s used to seeing them. You aren’t too good for him, he thinks.

Then you ask, “Would you want to go out sometime?” And he has no reference materials and no forewarning and no prepared response. The odds are against him.

So against all odds and every simmering nerve in his body he says, “Yes.”

tags: @vandysgf @mrs-han

[theladyofdeath]

Elorcan wedding night plss!! I love ur writing sm

Elide looked at herself in the mirror of the washroom.

Her robe was incandescent, the onesie underneath made of lace. She had never worn anything so sexy - not around Lorcan, not around any of her previous boyfriends.

But, now, on her wedding night, she thought she should wear something special, no matter how insecure she felt in the minimal fabric. 

“El?” Lorcan’s voice sounded through the thick, washroom door. “You okay?”

“Almost ready!” she promised. 

She brushed through her long, black hair once more and applied a layer of red lipstick before taking one final look in the mirror, and taking a deep breath. 

Here goes nothing.

The washroom door creaked as she opened it, and she stepped into the bedroom. 

Lorcan was sitting on the edge of the bed, their massive suite sitting in the dark around him. He must’ve dimmed the lights when she was getting ready. She could see him, though, and judging by the way his eyes widened when he saw her, he could see her perfectly well, too. 

His shirt had been discarded along with his jacket and tie. His shoes were kicked off, his socks nowhere to be seen. He still wore his slacks, although his belt had been dismissed, and the button and zipper had become undone.

Elide approached him, admiring his beauty in the dimmed light, and stopped in front of him, a few feet away. 

He swallowed, harshly. “New outfit?”

“Just for you,” she whispered, untying her robe and letting it fall to the floor. “What do you think?”

“You want to know what I think?” he asked, quietly, rising to his feet. He took a step toward her, and brushed her hair out of her face before leaning down to kiss her, softly. “I think that I’m having a hard time stringing together any sort of logical thought because you look so incredibly beautiful.” 

As Elide’s cheeks burned, she lifted her chin. “Is that so?”

He nodded, slowly, sucking in his bottom lip. “I’m going to take my sweet, sweet time with you tonight.” He kissed her. “I hope you got a good night’s sleep last night, because you’re about to get absolutely none...”

Elide couldn’t help but chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her. “The night before my wedding? Yeah, Lor, I slept great.”

He grinned at her sarcasm. “I’m trying to be sexy, don’t ruin it.”

Elide laughed, then, and she realized one thing: they were both trying to be sexy, but it wasn’t who they were. She and Lorcan had a great sex life, they always had, since their first time during their sophomore year of college. 

Their first time had been horribly awkward, too. But, then again, that’s what made it so magical. They had both laughed multiple times throughout the whole ordeal, because it wasn’t something that would be seen in a movie. No, it had been real. Lorcan had bumped his head against Elide’s, they had nearly fallen off the bed, and Lorcan’s roommate walked in in the middle of it.

But they had become one, then.

Just as they were about to now.

“I don’t want it to be sexy,” Elide whispered, taking her husband’s face into her hands. “I want it to be real.”

Lorcan’s eyes softened then, and he leaned into her, pressing his lips against hers. 

Elide had to admit....Their first time as man and wife was a hell of a lot sexier than their first time as boyfriend and girlfriend, but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that she was with Lorcan. She was with him now, and she would be with him forever. 

She was madly in love with a man that would love her until they were old and gray, awkward faults and all. And that alone was sexy in itself. 

[its-deputy-caleb]

would u possibly do some NSFW morbell? where they're up in colter ( i loved ur original morbell post on them ) pls do more as i love ur blog 💛

this is an absolute mess oml i literally have no idea how to write anything smutty but here we go i guess. I love this pair but i kinda went off topic and centred this on a praise kink for micah. ANYWAY this is probably terrible since i'm melting, its literally 40 degrees and the aircon is broken so its unedited af and i wont look at it again until i have a cold drink. but pls enjoy some morbell <333

------------------------------------

‘Cold up in Colter’

Fuck, what a mess Blackwater had been. The Pinkertons were on them faster than ever and they found themselves fleeing from a blood bath.

That was almost three days ago and Micah hadn’t had an ounce of sleep. He’d been sent out with John to scout ahead, having found a homestead which ended up burning at the hand of O’Driscoll’s. Okay maybe house burning down was his fault but he tends to make stupid decisions when he’s had little to know sleep. And it was so fucking cold.

That didn’t stop heat rising to his face when he felt Arthur’s hands on his shoulder, pushing him back with a roughness he could only wish for in another way. Damn Arthur Morgan and his ability to have Micah curling in on himself and blushing like a virgin at the mere thought of a hand on his shoulder.

He should hate Arthur, really the two are nothing more than rivals, competing for the spot of Dutch Van Der Linde’s right hand. At the beginning, almost six months ago now, Micah couldn’t stand the sight of the man but somehow that anger tapered off into something more akin to admiration and that admiration slowly turned to desire.

He’ll never admit to how badly he wants Arthur but he won’t deny however that he’s pushed the man’s buttons more than once just to have an interaction with him. All he had to do start a silly argument over camp earnings or a bet at five finger fillet to have the man shaking him by the collar and threatening to break his nose.

It almost always ended with Micah sneaking off into the woods with half a bottle of whiskey and his pants bunched around his ankles as he thought of the way Arthur roughed him up by his shirt collar. Fuck he was pathetic sometimes.

There were other occasions where the two had actually managed to get along and that’s what pissed Micah off more than any threats of violence. Arthur just had to go and bring him a beer as he grabbed one for himself, letting their fingers touch accidentally. Or he went and offered him a seat by the fireplace where they ended up much to close for his comfort. Damn Arthur for always leaving him short of breath with a hole in his heart.

Despite what Micah did to impress Dutch, Arthur was still the camp’s favourite by a mile and he never failed to outcompete him in the eyes of the gang. Micah never minded much, not looking for anyone’s approval, but the thought of proving himself to Arthur, of being worthy of his praise is enough to have his wild side reined in.

Naturally that didn’t stop Micah from losing it from time to time and wasn’t surprised when his jealousy shot up again as Miss Grimshaw announced Arthur got his own cabin while he shared with the rest of the fellers. And he’d be damned if he had to share a room with Williamson who didn’t stop snoring.

That’s why he found himself huddled in the makeshift stables, choosing instead to wrap himself in his coat and down a bottle of whiskey to wait the night out. He cold planks he was sitting on offered little comfort and the draft in the room had his lip shaking. But at least he wouldn’t have anyone in his hair and he’d be left alone, just the way he liked it.

Of course that didn’t last long when the cranky wooden door was barged open, spooking some of the horses in the opposite end of the room. A broad figure entered the room, blocking most of the door way but that didn’t stop to whoosh of cold air flood into the room, draining even more colour from his face.

It wasn’t until the door was closed and the man stepped closer when he realised it was Arthur.

“Micah? What the hell are you doing in here?”

Arthur sounded surprised, with only a hint of concern in his voice.

“Sleepin’— what the hell ya doing here Morgan?”

There wasn’t much of a response from Arthur, only a quiet noise which was barely heard over the whistle of the wind between the planks. He walked over to the horses, checking over them and ensuring none of them were freezing to death. Micah watched in silence, scared to disturb the man as he patted along Taima’s neck.

It wasn’t until after Arthur had checked over all the horses did he turn his attention to Micah.

Micah watched as Arthur’s gloved hand extended out and offered itself to him, he hesitated before taking before taking it and being pulled to his feet. Arthur’s hand draped over his shoulder which he didn’t realise had shaking in an effort to keep warm, having drunk the remaining whiskey from the bottle.

“Common now, yer gonna freeze in here alone.”

Micah dug his heels into the ground, not allowing Arthur to pull him any further to the door as he tried to hold his voice steady. He’d be damned if he ever let Arthur know just how much he affected him.

“I ain’t sharing a bunk with Williams—“

Arthur tutted, pulling Micah out the door as he pushed him towards his cabin in the snow storm.

“Quit yer yapping, you’re sharing with me and I ain’t having any more folk die tonight. Now let’s go.”

Arthur didn’t utter another word until they were well and truely in his room, wrapped in a blanket that was barely big enough for the two of them. The bed wasn’t much bigger, having been made for one person which was evident by Arthur pressing against Micah’s back in efforts for them to fit. The only thing that kept them apart was the fabric of their jackets, otherwise Arthur would probably hear Micah’s heartbeat which was beating much to fast for his liking.

The uncomfortable silence was broken when Micah cursed under his breath which caused his teeth to chatter and Arthur spoke up.

“Yer still cold, c'mere”

Micah’s breath fell short as Arthur’s hands slid under his coat, resting his hands on his tummy to use his body heat as a source of warmth. In doing so Arthur had moved even closer, ensuring Micah’s back was flush against his chest.

Despite that Micah wanted to protest, to go straight to his default of arguing he couldn’t help but feel as he began to warm up and he slowly relaxed under his hands.

A blush rose high on his cheeks as Arthur also relaxed into their embrace, accidentally letting his hands drift lower until he felt the hard press of Micah’s straining erection against his knuckle.

Micah instantly sucked in a breath, panicking and trying to push his way out of Arthur’s hold.

“Shit Arthur I—“

Micah froze as Arthur gently pulled him back to the bed and rubbed slow circles along his stomach.

“S’alright Micah, I’m not mad…”

Arthur held him close, letting him relax before talking again before he whispered right into the shell of his ear.

“…This what you want? Is this why you’re always staring at me from across camp, why yer always picking fights and asking me to robberies?”

A high pitched noise left Micah as he shivered, feeling Arthur’s hot breath against his ear. His blush deepened as he pushed back slightly into him, whimpering at the feel of Arthur’s own erection pressed against his ass.

Fuck it, he thought as heat pooled in his abdomen and he finally allowed himself to have the one thing he’d been craving for months. He nodded frantically, grinding back onto Arthur’s clothed dick and squirming in his grip.

“Relax boy, gonna give you everything you’ve been waiting for— just be good and you’ll get it”

Micah nodded in agreement, a needy, desperate sound leaving him at the promise of praise. He wanted, no needed to be praised by the man so badly that he’d do anything for an ounce of it from the man.

“Oh god Arthur! I need it, need you. Fuck I can be good I promise.”

He knew he was probably being too loud but apart of him didn’t have it in him to care. He moaned softly as Arthur moved him to roll onto his back, towering over him but ensuring they were still kept under the blanket.

Arthur spent the next ten minutes undressing him without exposing much of his skin to the cold. He unbuttoned the lower buttons of his leather jacket, enough for Arthur to work his fly down and pull one pant leg off. He whined pitifully, grabbing at the lapels of Arthur’s coat in a silent plea for him to undress him properly.

Micah mentally scolded himself at just how desperate he was for Arthur to rip his clothes off and fuck him like a bitch in heat but he knew that wasn’t happening any time soon. Arthur however caught on pretty quickly to what he wanted, it seemed the man knew just what made him tick.

“I know sweetheart, once we’re well and truly outta here I’ll get us a room and we can do this properly.”

Micah’s eyes beamed at the thought of Arthur taking him to a hotel in the future, panting as his mind raced with images of Morgan making him fall apart on his cock for hours on end.

While Micah was busy in his mind, Arthur took the opportunity to retrieve the gun oil from his satchel. It certainly wasn’t the best option but it was their only choice with their limited supplies.

Arthur draped himself back over Micah’s body, kissing at his jaw and nibbling as he coated his fingers. The air was cold, only making the oil feel colder as he slowly dipped his index finger past Micah’s rim.

A devilish grin came to Arthur’s face as he heard Micah sigh and take his finger easily, deciding to work his way up to two sooner than he was expecting.

“You’ve wanted this for a long time haven’t you? I saw you once, bout a week ago. Head down, ass up with three of yer fingers inside you while you cried out for me to fuck you. It all clicked in my head then when you started acting different around me at camp.”

Micah flushed a deep red, coughing on air as he realised Arthur knew about his little crush. He tried to think of an excuse, to weasel his way out of it but his thoughts died in his head when Arthur twisted his fingers, scissoring and stretching him open before adding a third.

Arthur dragged a lip along Micah’s cheek to his lip, ghosting his lips over his before kissing him properly. This time Micah didn’t even try to fight for dominance, opening his mouth instantly for Arthur’s tongue to enter. Instead he sighed into it, pulling his legs to wrap around his waist as his hands wrapped around his lover’s shoulder.

It went on like that until Arthur was satisfied that Micah was well prepped enough, simultaneously rubbing against Micah’s prostate while he kissed him deeply. He only pulled away to pull his own leaking member out, bunching his pants around his thighs so he had enough room to move but could stay warm. He coated the rest of the oil onto his member, jerking slowly as he stared down at the sight of Micah below him.

Micah looked like an absolute mess against the pillows already, his face was flush and the scarf around his head had unwrapped slightly, revealing his disheveled blond hair. His chest was heaving as he panted and his thighs shook from pleasure as the weakly wrapped around his waist.

“You look so pretty like this sweetheart”

To say that Micah hated the pet name was a lie, one that he didn’t try deny as he moaned softly. His back arched and he gripped Arthur’s coat tightly as he felt his cock slide between his cheeks and over his hole. He’s wanted this for so long now and yet somehow it still didn’t quite feel real as his mind was clouded with arousal.

Micah’s toes curled and he moaned when he felt Arthur push into him, slowly inching forward until he felt him bottom out.

“Ah— ah! Oh Arthur fuck! Please fuck me, I’ll be good I swear.”

Micah practically sobbed with pleasure as Arthur set up a fast pace, pulling almost all the way out till just the tip was left inside his tight hole before pushing back in quickly, brushing his prostate in the process. His cock twitched from where it rested against his tummy, pinned between Arthur’s jacket which caused a string of moans to fall from his mouth.

“Look at you, so good for me— fucking perfect Micah. Such a good boy”

Arthur’s hands came to hold onto Micah’s hips for leverage, pulling on his slight muffin top under the jacket to help pull him back to meet his thrusts. Beneath him he heard Micah whine and whimper at the praise so desperately needed to hear.

Micah bought a finger up to his mouth, biting on his knuckle to silence any more noises he deemed to be pathetic from slipping out of him. He hated how close he already was just from being praised by Arthur.

It seemed Arthur wasn’t having any of it when he pulled his finger away from his mouth before kissing him like he had done not that long ago. He swallowed every one of Micah’s noises, mindful of Dutch sleeping next door and slowing his thrusts to something deeper and slower.

His hands roamed all over Micah’s clothed body, breaking away for air and whispering praises down his ear.

“That’s it, make those pretty noises for me sweetheart.”

Micah eye’s rolled into his head as he cried out.

“You’re mine, all for me— my good boy.”

More moans slipped from his lips.

“Atta boy— taking me so well, so good.”

His back arched and he withered in his embrace

“So eager to please aren’t you? I’ll take care of you now boy.”

“—Arthur! I’m close— Ah, I’m gonna—“

“Go on sweetheart cum for me…that’s it good boy.”

Micah’s whole body when rigid as he finally came. His mouth hung open, tongue lolling out as his orgasm dragged out with each thrust Arthur delivered, eager to chase his own.

He collapsed into the pillow, thighs shaking as he whined at the oversensitivity. It didn’t last long before Arthur’s thrusts changed pace to something more erratic, picking up the pace as he spilled his load inside him.

Arthur groaned into his neck, pulling him close and collapsing into him as he regained his breath.

He pulled out slowly with a wet and obscene pop, sitting up and helping Micah put his clothes back on. Micah only weakly managed to fiddle with the button on his jacket while Arthur gently manhandled his jelly-like limbs to fit back into his pant leg. He used the blanket to wipe the cum off his tummy, a weak attempt at cleaning up and something they would both no doubt regret come tomorrow morning but for now they were keen to sleep after such a horrific and chaotic few days.

Arthur pulled Micah into their original position for the night, the only difference being that his face was now tucked into his chest. Arthur rested his chin of Micah’s head, littering his hair with kisses as he played with his hair between his rough fingers.

Micah was the first to fall asleep, curled up with his forehead against Arthur’s collarbone. Arthur wasn’t far behind him either, finally letting himself get some much needed rest but not before he pressed a soft kiss to his hairline.

[frogtanii]

hi! noah anon here again, um ahaha, i may have been inspired to write a part 2 to my previous atsumu hurt/comfort drabble, i hope that's okay! ive been living for protective!y/n ever since they fought meiko for suga, so i wanted to sort of portray that!

-

from the way atsumu's breathing had evened out, you assumed he'd finally fallen asleep. exhaustion from the rough night he had taking over as he laid in your bed, wrapped up in your comforting embrace. atsumu's forehead rested in the crook of your neck and his nose pressed up against your collarbone, soft breaths tickling the sensitive skin. his arm laid across your stomach, keeping you close. for the first time since he walked into your room that night, he looked peaceful.

you on the other hand, were pissed; still stewing with rage over the events of the night. the main target of your aggression being none other than miya osamu himself. how could someone be so cold to their own twin?

the more you thought about it, the more restless you got, a pit of frustration growing and twisting uncomfortably in your gut. laying still was starting to prove a difficult task. with all of this frustrated energy you just needed to move — do something, before you went insane. so as carefully as you could, you slipped out from under atsumu, gently pushing a pillow under him for support.

shutting your door as quietly as possible you padded your way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and an aspirin for atsumu. he'd probably need it for when he woke up, and it was the perfect excuse to get up and move around. however, as you neared the kitchen, you noticed a figure searching through the snack cabinets, grey hairs poking out into your field of vision. of course now of all times you'd run into the object of your current frustration. did you universe hate you or something?

just ignore him, you thought to yourself, no sense in getting into a conflict tonight.

as quietly as possible, you pulled a glass cup from the cabinet and filled it up with water. you had asprin in your room, so there was no need to grab any from the common area. your next objective was to exit the kitchen as quick as possible before your urge to punch osamu in the face increased any more. at this moment, his mere presence was enough to up your anger levels.

however, the second you spun on your heels to leave, osamu was also making his way out of the kitchen, causing the two of you to almost collide. luckily osamu reacted quickly, stepping back and preventing anything from being spilt.

"fucking watch it!" he spit out, expression twisting into one of contempt.

you scoffed at his outburst, ready to hit him with a few choice words, but by the time your lips parted he was already storming out of the kitchen and into the living room. a high pitched voice could be heard when he entered, sending another wave of fury coursing through your veins. "thank you 'samu, you're the best!"

"of course baby," osamu responded, "now let's start our movie."

the noise of some cheesy romance movie soon filled the living room and all surrounding areas, way too loud for this late of an hour in your opinion. it only added to your irritation, and without even thinking you were marching yourself to the living room with conviction, glass of water left behind on the kitchen island.

usually you never sought out trouble, and you weren't too fond of confrontation when it could be avoided. in the beginning of your time in the hyper house, maybe, but as time passed you soon learned nothing you said would change anything. so to save some sanity you resorted to short quips and just plain ignoring your housemates, once your contract was up none of it mattered anymore anyway. but after holding atsumu for an hour while he sobbed, and osamu's entitled attitude, something in you snapped. fuck being the bigger person.

so with your shoulders back and head held high you stormed into the living room, snatching the remote from coffee table to pause the movie playing.

that certainly grabbed their attention.

"the fuck is yer problem?" osamu vetted, standing to square up to you, fists clenched at his side and jaw tense. meiko followed suit, but took her position slightly behind osamu, nimble fingers gripping his bicep.

"my problem? hmm let's see, maybe my problem is the fact that i just held your brother as he cried himself to sleep while you were out here cuddled up on the couch!"

meiko snickered from behind him, and you had to stop yourself from lunging at her. how dare she laugh at his pain?

"'tsumu's fine, he'll get over it. now leave so we can watch our movie." your eyes went wide at osamu's response. did he really not care?

"he's your brother, and you hurt him." the annoyed expression on osamu's face fell slightly at your statement, but he quickly recovered, expression morphing into one that could kill.  "don't act so innocent, you were probably in there twisting his mind with your little lies. you know everything that's happened between us has been your fault? you're the one that turned him against me!" his voice was gradually increasing him volume and malice, you obviously getting under his skin.

"oh please, you're still telling yourself that?" you inched closer to the pair, chin lifting up to meet osamu's steely glare, your attempt at intimidation working only on the small woman behind him.

"'samu, shes scaring me, please make her leave," meiko whimpered. Osamu placed a protective arm around her, pulling her into his side, "don't worry baby, i won't let her near you." you rolled your eyes at meiko, her feigned fear sending your patience over the edge.

"oh shut up, meiko," you snapped, causing her to coward further into osamu.  "hey, don't talk to her like that!" he shot back at you, eyes darkening as he towered over your form, but you refused to back down.

"i'm texting iwaizumi, he can make her leave." meiko began typing furiously on her phone.

you chose to ignore her, prioritizing getting in your final words before iwaizumi could come to their resuce. "you've got your head completely up your ass if you think anyone but yourself is to blame for your broken relationship with 'tsumu!"

"you have no right to—"

"what the hell is going on here?" iwaizumi stormed into the room, large arms crossed over his chest as he placed himself between you and your victims.

"iwa, thank god! me and 'samu were trying to watch a movie when y/n just came in here and started attacking us! it was so scary, please make her leave!"

you scoffed at meiko's fabricated story, but before you could even begin to defend yourself iwa spoke, "y/n, go back to your room before im forced to take action." despite his dagger sharp gaze, you refused to shrink. you were going to get your point in regardless of any threats iwaizumi threw your way. so shooting him a quick and dismissive glare, you turned your attention back to osamu and meiko to get in one final blow.

"look, i don't know what your problem with me is, and frankly i don't care. but leave atsumu the fuck out your sick little games." the venom in your voice was enough to strike real fear into meiko, who was now completely hiding behind osamu for protection. even osamu's intimidating demeanor faltered at your protectiveness over his brother.

iwaizumi was the first to break the tension, "y/n, go—"

"yeah yeah, i got it, im leaving." your cut him short, giving osamu one last glare before exiting the living room, stopping to grab the glass of water from the kitchen before heading back to your room.

in your frustration you'd completely forgotten atsumu was asleep, accidentally shutting your door back with a little too much force. "angel?" atsumu's sleep drenched voice pulled you from your stewing thoughts, and you felt any and all anger melt away when you locked eyes with him.

"where'd you go off to?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up. you snatched a bottle of asprin from your night stand and extended it to him along with the glass of water, "figured you'd want this when you woke up."

the corner of his mouth lifted up into a lopsided smile as he accepted your offer, downing a pill and half the water in one go, "yer too good to me, angel."

you offered up a soft smile as you took the glass and pill bottle back from him and set them on your nightstand. you took a seat on your bed next to atsumu, pushing back his disheveled hair back with one hand, prompting him to let out a content hum.

"i'm sorry for waking you," you whispered, letting your hand trail down the side of his face before coming to rest against his jaw, "how are you feeling?"

atsumu leaned into your touch, "much better, thanks to you. but, can we lay down again?"

you nodded, falling back to a laying position with atsumu following suit. however, this time he pulled you into his chest, holding you in his arms. you sunk further into him, finding it much easier to sleep this time as his warmth surrounded you and calmed your nerves.

-

i got a little carried away and this ended up a little longer than i intended, oops, oh well! i hope you like it!

— noah anon

hhhh,,, BESTIE OMFG UR SO SO SO TALENTED WTF???? do u have a blog cs if so sharty drop the @ ahaha (jk only if u feel comfy!!) i just mean WOW WOW WOW WOWIE

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Mr. Blue Sky

Prompt: if ur still taking prompts could you maybe write Patton having a bad depression day and the other sides helping him out! ps your writing is amazing

Thanks for the prompt, babe! I hope it’s what you wanted!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: depressive episode, nothing graphic

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, I don’t care, all or none. Can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2554

Depression:

de•pres•sion – a mood disorder marked especially by sadness, inactivity, difficulty in thinking and concentration, a significant increase or decrease in appetite and time spent sleeping, feelings of dejection, and hopelessness.

Patton feels grey today.

Sometimes he doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know it’s going to be a bad day.

 Patton’s gonna be honest. He doesn’t have bad days most of the time. No, really, he doesn’t. Not like this.

 Most days it’s just kind of…there, you know? It’s like looking up into a clear, blue sky, as blue as it could possibly be, and there’s just a little grey cloud near the horizon. Not bothering anyone, not making it shady anywhere, but it’s there. Unmistakably there. That’s not a bad day. It’s just a day.

 Today he wakes up and the whole sky is grey.

 His room responds to emotion. It fills with soft air, vibrant color, all the things that make Thomas feel—well, anything. So many, so many, so many. Not today.

 Today the room is grey.

 Shadows cast darkness onto almost every surface in his room, from the desk to the closet to the bare walls where every memory is blurred out into static. The whole room looks flat. Like someone stuck a black and white photo of what it’s supposed to look like into a projector and the projector is shaky, spinning out of time, artifacts appearing in the photo. He blinks. Tries to clear his vision. It doesn’t help.

 Patton blinks again and his eyelids feel like they’re glued shut. He can’t open them. Why should he? He doesn’t want to see this version of his room. Better to just lie here and wait for the rainclouds to go away. Are they rainclouds? They don’t feel like rain clouds. They just feel like clouds. How do we make clouds go away?

 Logan would know how clouds go away. But Logan is not here and every inch of his body feels like it weighs too much. Is he imagining it or is he sinking further into his bed?

 The blankets on top of him aren’t weighted, he knows that, but even their faint pressure is insurmountable. He can’t summon up the will to move them so he doesn’t. He just lies there. Still. Trying to see if he can open his eyes.

 He should get up. He has to get dressed. He has to make breakfast.

 But why? None of them need to eat. Logan’s probably made himself breakfast in the time it’s taken him to not get out of bed. Roman’s probably eaten already. Virgil doesn’t normally join them for breakfast. Janus has a sleep schedule he hasn’t figured out yet. And Remus…well, Remus likes his own type of food.

 Patton doesn’t need to go anywhere, what would be the point?

 He can’t fall back asleep. There’s too much static. It whines in his ears and makes him want to scrunch up, block it out, if only he could move. But he can’t. So he won’t.

 Will the others worry? Maybe. It’s not like he can do anything about it. He remembers—does he? Does he have enough energy to remember?—they told him if he ever needed help or support on bad days he should come get one of them. Or summon them. But summoning means moving.

 Doesn’t really matter. Moving won’t make the clouds go away. Might as well just…lie here, wait for them to go away.

 Patton lies there, in his bed, on his side, his room turning grey.

 He blinks. Oh. The light is different. Was the light different a moment ago? It was coming in low, wasn’t it? Why is it super bright now? It’s too bright. It’s too grey.

 But closing the curtains means moving.

 He blinks.

 The light is gone now. It’s back to being low in the sky. Did he imagine it being really bright?

 Doesn’t matter. The room is still grey.

 Something buzzes at the corner of his mind. Is that…is something making noise? It happens again.

 “Patton?”

 Oh. Is that Roman? Why is Roman here?

 “Patton, are you in here?”

 Speaking means moving.

 “…Patton, I’m coming in, okay?”

 The door creaks open and there is a quickly stifled gasp. The room is still grey.

 “Patton? Patton, where are—oh, oh, Padre…”

 Oh. Roman’s here now. Roman’s sash is so red.

 “Patton,” Roman murmurs as he crouches next to the bed, “Patton, can you hear me?”

 Patton manages a small sound in his throat. Oh. He can speak. A little. He tries again.

 “…mhmm.”

 Roman breathes a sigh of relief. His expression changes into something a little sad. “Bad day, huh?”

 “Mhmm.”

 “When was the last time you ate something,” Roman prompts gently, “drank something?”

 Patton furrows his brow. Isn’t it still morning? In response, Roman carefully moves his clock into his line of sight.

 Oh.

 His eyes must widen a little when he realizes it’s late in the afternoon. Roman sets the clock aside and glances at the door.

 “I’m going to take that as you haven’t eaten today,” he says quietly, “is that right?”

 Patton closes his eyes and makes a frustrated noise. What good is this? What good is he? If he can’t make the clouds go away—

 “Hey,” comes the soft voice and a warm hand on his cheek, “stay with me here.”

 Roman smiles at him and runs his fingers through his hair as he peers up at him. Roman is warm. Really warm. Does warm make the clouds go away?

 “Here’s what we’re gonna do, okay?” Roman tucks his other hand under Patton’s head, cradling it gently. “We’re going to have you sit up first, then we’re going to go get you something to eat. Is that alright?”

 …yeah.

 But…moving.

 “Shh,” Roman says as a little wrinkle appears between Patton’s brows again, “I won’t move until you’re ready for it.”

 Patton’s about to try and say he’s been unable to move all day, apparently, when Roman leans forward and rests their foreheads together, warm breaths puffing over his neck. Roman is warm. Roman is red.

 He closes his eyes and lets Roman’s warmth bring a little color back to his cheeks.

 “Okay,” he mumbles after a little, “okay.”

 “You want to try and sit up now?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Alright.” Roman adjusts his grip, getting one hand around Patton’s waist. “We’re going to go slow. If at any point you feel dizzy, or you can’t keep going, you have my full permission to fall on me and we’ll lie you back down.”

 For some reason, the image of him just full-on collapsing onto Roman makes a giggle bubble up in his throat. Roman chuckles too, his arms tightening.

 “Ready? Here we go…”

 Sitting up is slow. It’s fuzzy. But it works. Roman rubs his arm encouragingly as they get him seated on the edge of the bed.

 “Next step is standing up. You need a moment before we do that?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Okay. You take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

 Roman is warm. Roman is so, so warm. Patton’s fingers idly toy with the cord on his shoulders.

 “…thanks.”

 “Oh, of course, Padre.” A warm hand runs over his cheek. “It’s no more than you’ve done for us.”

 “…us?”

 Roman gives him a smile. “You don’t think the others are going to let me have all the fun, do you?”

 As if on cue, there’s another set of footsteps approaching the door.

 “Hey, Princey, you get lost or something?”

 “In here,” Roman calls as Virgil rounds the corner. Virgil is purple. So, so, purple.

 “Heya, Pop-star,” Virgil says softly, crouching down next to Roman, “you havin’ an off day?”

 “…yeah.”

 “Okay. We’re gonna get you downstairs, okay? The others are waiting.”

 “What?”

 Virgil’s mouth tugs up into a smile. “Yeah, Pat. You didn’t show all day and we got worried.”

 Roman gives his arm a squeeze. “You about ready to stand?”

 Patton nods and holds his arms out for help.

 “Easy, easy—“

 “There you go, Padre, go slow.”

 “Great job. You wanna lean on us for a little?”

 “I got you, don’t worry.”

 Roman loops his arm gracefully through Patton’s, holding him like they’re walking down the path to his castle again as they move out of the too-grey room. Virgil hangs beside them, following down the stairs into the living room. As soon as they hit the bottom, Logan looks up from the kitchen and smiles.

 “Hello, Patton.” He gestures toward the seat next to him. “Please, come join us.”

 Roman deposits him carefully next to Logan, who immediately sets a small plate in front of him. Virgil gives him a wink before striking up a conversation with Roman that immediately fills the room. There’s no pressure for Patton to join, no pressure to do anything other than try and eat the easy food in front of him and lean against Logan’s side. Logan’s warm too. Is everyone warm? Logan is blue. Dark blue.

 “Here,” Logan murmurs as Janus sends a barb back at Virgil, “try and drink this for me?”

 It’s just water. It does little to clear the static in his throat, but it does make him feel a little more like a person. He goes to try and take another bite only for it to turn to ash in his mouth.

 Remus catches his grimace from his other side. “Had enough?”

 “Think so.”

 Reaching out in a blur of green, Remus scoops Patton’s food onto his own plate and scarfs it down, artfully dodging the balled-up receipt Roman tosses at him.

 “What are they talking about,” Patton mumbles to Logan as Remus immediately shouts something about lizards and coniferous trees.

 “I have absolutely no idea,” comes Logan’s bemused reply. “I believe it started off with a debate about what exactly separates reptiles from mammals but I’ve quite lost the thread of the conversation.”

 “It’s not my fault that you decided dragons are a subspecies of platypuses!”

 “Does that make every single dragon a relative of Perry the Platypus?”

 “Well, somehow we’ve gotten to Phineas and Ferb,” Logan murmurs as Virgil immediately starts clamoring for Janus to change his hat.

 And somehow the image of seeing Janus as a gold snake with a fedora makes the static clear enough for Patton to giggle.

 Of course, the instant he does that, the entire table just stops to stare at him. Virgil is so distracted Janus swipes his hat back and stands, sweeping around to Patton’s side.

 “Shall we keep going?”

 “What are we doing now?”

 “Let’s get you changed into something else,” Janus says softly as he helps Patton up, leaving the others to talk about…whatever they’re talking about now, “it’ll help you feel better.”

 “Okay.”

 “Would you like to talk about it?”

 Patton shakes his head as they get back to his room. “Just a grey day.”

 Janus nods and gently pushes him toward the bathroom. “Take a shower for me, honey, then we’ll get you into some new clothes.”

 “Um—“

 He pauses on his way to Patton’s closet. “What is it, honey?”

 “Can I, um…” Now that he’s seen the others, the cold greyness of his room makes the numbness flood back. “Could you…hug me?”

 “Oh, of course, honey, come here…”

 Oh, Janus is warm. Janus is really warm. Really warm and really yellow.

 “You’re doing so well today,” Janus murmurs, stroking up and down Patton’s back, “we’re so proud of you.”

 They stand there for a little while, until Patton can pry himself out of the hug and toward the bathroom. The tiles are grey but the sink is cream. He peels himself out of the pajamas that are starting to feel a little gummy and tosses them in the hamper. The shower handle is cold but the water is warm. He doesn’t have the energy to wash. The water beats over his shoulders, warm, steady, reassuring. If he closes his eyes, the clouds have started to rain. Warm, summer rain that smells like sleep.

 A light knock on the door a few moments later and Patton turns the water off. He hears Janus open the door and leave something on the counter. He takes the towel from the rack and dries himself off, curling his fingers in the soft clothes left for him.

 Janus smiles when he opens the door, holding his hand out for Patton to take.

 “Come on,” he coaxes when Patton blearily makes a noise of protest, “the others are downstairs waiting.”

 “Wha’re we doing?”

 “Well,” Janus drawls as they make their way into the hall, “I’m sure it couldn’t be letting us spoil you with cuddles, now, couldn’t it?”

 Sure enough, Roman’s summoned a mattress big enough to cover the entire floor of the living room. Remus is already sprawled on top of Roman, but he looks up with a grin as Patton gets to the bottom of the stairs.

 “Remus, no—!”

 Roman just manages to grab his brother around the waist as Remus lunges for Patton.

“Let me go!”

 “You have to wait for him to get to the mattress first!”

 “Ugh,” Remus rolls his eyes, “fine.”

 Janus chuckles as Patton crawls to the center of the mattress and, after a brief nod, Roman lets Remus go. Sure enough, Remus almost bowls them back off the mattress.

 “Remus,” Roman huffs in exasperation, even though Patton can hear his smile.

 “What?” Remus shifts on top of him, his weight warm and green and perfect, his arms wrapped around Patton’s waist as he tucks a pillow under his head. “I got it.”

 He can hear Roman roll his eyes as red tucks itself against his side. “Yeah, you sure do.”

 Virgil snickers from somewhere above him and Patton cranes his neck back to see a flash of purple curling above his head. “You comfy, Pat? Breathing okay?”

 “…yeah.”

 “Good.” The purple looks over to Patton’s other side. “So’re you two just gonna sit there and pretend you don’t want in or what?”

 “We’re coming.”

 Sure enough, a moment later, Janus takes a seat with his back against the couch, Virgil’s head in his lap. He reaches down with a golden hand and runs his fingers through Patton’s hair. Dark blue lies down next to him and Logan reaches to gently remove his glasses, laying them on the side table.

 Everything is fuzzy static clears. Something dull and achy wells up in Patton’s chest, asleep all day, forming a lump in his throat that suddenly makes it hard to breathe. As if they can feel it, the twins share a look.

 Remus frees one of his arms and carefully takes Patton’s right hand, gently pressing it to the mattress next to his head. Roman takes his left, pressing a kiss to the back of it and clasping it to his own chest. Logan shifts as Janus’s hand cards through Patton’s hair. Virgil murmurs something that gets lost in the warm haze.

 Amidst the warmth, Patton’s eyes flutter closed.

 The sky is filled with clouds, splashed with dark blue, fading into purple, the lightest touches of gold at the very edges, shimmering in the fading light. The deep red at the horizon fades into pink, into yellow, into the slightest hint of green before spilling into an endless stretch of blue, blue, blue sky.

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[getouisms]

[ - 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟓.𝟏 - The Guest

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Y/n, a 22 year old successful model is tired of the tabloids shaming her about her dating status when she’s seen out with her friends. Unsure of what to do to stop the gossip, Oikawa suggests a fake boyfriend. Fortunately, Kenma knows the perfect person who’d go for an idea as stupid as that one.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Alcohol (a drunk person with hostility)

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 … 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 … 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭  

“I’m so sorry, I really thought I could try this recipe out and have it succeed,” Kuroo apologizes sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

A light giggle leaves your mouth as you stare at the blackened oil burnt to the pan accompanied by charred garlic and half charred onions. It was an honest attempt to make a favorite dish of yours, but he had the pan set too high after an accidental misread of the recipe. In his defense, you look awfully cute peeking over his phone trying to get an idea of what he’s making while he’s hiding the screen from you. Waves of laughter filling the kitchen, a light bouncing in your eyes as you look at him, it’s easy to forget what heat the pan should have been on.

“It’s okay babe,” you hum, pulling your phone out to check the ETA of your sushi order, “it’ll be here soon it says,” you reply, clicking off the screen as Kuroo runs the cold water into the pan.

Your arms slip behind him as he grabs the sponge, trying to wash off the burnt ingredients from the pan. A smile is on his face as he leans into the embrace, mumbling beneath his breath.

“Good thing I didn’t prep all the ingredients,” Kuroo jokes, warmth filling his chest at the small laugh you emit against his shirt.

“Just let it soak, we can worry about that later,” you offer, kissing the back of his shoulder as he hums faintly.

“I’ll get as much as I can off before soaking it and you can go choose us a movie?” Kuroo mumbles, turning his head over his shoulder to peer at you, who nods and reluctantly pulls back away from him.

Shuffling into the living room, you turn on the TV as a knock on the door fills the apartment. Your eyebrows furrowed. The food couldn’t be here, you had just checked it. But, in the event it was, you walk over to the door; unlocking it to see Atsumu with red eyes and alcohol staining his clothes. Your eyes widened, watching his eyes well with water.

“I know I said I’d take space, but I miss ya so much,” Atsumu slurs, pulling you in for a hug.

Alcohol in his breath made your eyes sting as you hesitantly hug him back. You missed him, your heart hurt to see him at your doorstep drunk. He’s never been someone to drink, never been someone to spend his nights late at a bar.

You pull back, patting his chest, smiling faintly and warmly up at him.

“Let me call you a cab okay?”

“Everything okay?” Kuroo calls out, walking around to the living room with a towel drying off his hands.

The warm look in Atsumu’s eyes change as he shoves his way past you to get in. Panic nestling in your body as you follow behind quickly, grabbing Atsumu’s shoulder who didn’t look back at you as he spoke.

“Is this him?” He gestures with his hand at Kuroo, who slung the towel over his shoulder.

“Atsumu, please,” you plead softly, tugging gently at his shoulder.

He could never scare you. Atsumu would do nothing to put you in harm’s way, but you also never have seen him upset like this before.

“Yeah, I’m him, I’m Kuroo,” Kuroo replies in your stead, you cast a pleading gaze over at him to help you and he returns an assuring nod.

“Ya stole her from me, and to be honest, I’m not sure what she’s seeing in ya,” Atsumu taunts, making you step in front of him to block in front of him.

“‘Tsumu, stop please, you’re drunk, you’re not thinking straight. You don’t mean this,” you reason, tears welling in your eyes as the mean gaze is downcasted in your direction.

“No, actually, I mean this. What do you see in him you don’t see in me? He can’t be funnier than I am, I’m nicer to look at, I care about ya more than anyone, what is it, Y/n?” Atsumu spits.

A few tears slip down your cheeks before Kuroo steps in front of you. You see his jaw locked in anger, hand between the two men to keep Atsumu from approaching any closer.

“You’re upsetting her, stop. This situation has been very difficult for her, and you being mean to her to make her feel bad isn’t helping. Sit down, we’ll call you a cab, and you can talk to her in the morning once you’re sober,” Kuroo’s tone holds a serious graveness you’ve never heard before.

Atsumu rolls his eyes, and you hope to never see him drunk again. You’ve never seen Atsumu be hostile, and it hurts. It feels like something that’s your fault.

“I wasn’t talking to you, get out of my fucking face and shut up before I shut you up myself,” Atsumu threatens, trying to push past Kuroo to face you who wouldn’t budge.

“Atsumu please stop,” you plead shakily, but it gets ignored by Atsumu.

“Last time, sit down and we’ll call you a cab,” A warning slips past from Kuroo.

As your eyes are glued to the scene in front of you, it felt like Atsumu’s drunk movements were in slow motion as he lifted his fist to punch Kuroo in the face. Kuroo got a quick punch to his nose that made Atsumu stumble onto the floor, the blondes’ hands over his bloody nose. Your mouth agape as you watched Atsumu mumble incoherently as he leaned his head back against the wall, forgetting he was in the room with you both.

“He’ll be fine,” Kuroo whispers, turning around to wipe your tears that were streaming steadily.

You both turn to look over at Atsumu who leans against the wall, dozed off.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I’m so sorry,” your voice comes out shakily, Kuroo’s hands gently cupping your cheeks.

“Why are you apologizing? None of this is your fault,” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

“I feel responsible for him and I’m so sorry that this is how you first met him,” you sniffle, leaning your forehead against his shoulder.

“You aren’t responsible for him. He’s drunk, he’s having a hard time, so he resorted to acting like a dick. It’s not excusable what he did, but I understand he’s not in his right mind and when we meet again, I’ll consider that the first meeting,” Kuroo’s voice lulls out comfortingly, hand rubbing your back gently, “I have all night to cheer you up, and we still have dinner on the way, but first why don’t we get the big guy home over here. Have anyone we can call?”

You smile faintly, nodding as you pull away to pull out your phone. The obvious call would be his brother, but you don’t have his phone number saved onto your phone, so you go into your favorites to dial Oikawa.

“Y/n! Hi!” His cheery voice greets, you can hear a movie playing in the background.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, um, but Atsumu came over drunk and I was hoping you could come over and I can call Tendou to help get him out of here?” you hate how shaky your voice sounds, but the comforting touch of Kuroo’s thumb against your cheek to wipe the stray tear made you feel better.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry Y/n, yeah, I’ll get him out of here. Don’t worry about calling Tendou, I’ll call and pick him up since he’s on the way,” Oikawa replies, and you thank him before hanging up.

Kuroo pulls you back in for a hug, hiding your face in his shoulder to avoid looking at the slumped sleeping figure of Atsumu against the wall. The only time he let you go was to move you to the couch, sitting you on his lap with his back facing him as he whispered comforting things, things to make you laugh.

He’s special, you think, someone who wanted to stay with you during your rough times. Even now, as one of your best friends nearly hit him, he’s the one comforting you and chuckling faintly at your concern over him being nearly hit.

A knock on the door sounded before it opened to the flurry of brown hair of Oikawa, looking at the slumped Atsumu in disappointment, Tendou following with anger cloaking his features.

“We got here as fast as we could,” Oikawa commented, nudging Atsumu with his foot, “gross he’s a mess. What happened?”

You went to speak but Kuroo mumbled, ‘relax I got it’ before recounting the events, Tendou rolling his eyes.

“Let’s get him out of here before he comes to and tries to start a problem again. You guys okay?” He asks, watching you both nod.

Oikawa shakes him awake, the room watching Atsumu blink awake blearily but only looking over at Oikawa. A pout taking shape on his lips.

“My nose hurts,” He whines, Tendou rolling his eyes once more.

“Good, I hope it’s broken,” Oikawa says through a bitter smile as Tendou helps lift him.

The two men sling Atsumu’s arms over their shoulders while Tendou’s voice calling the blonde a piece of shit echoes through the hall as you shut the door behind him.

𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: Every time Atsumu complained about his nose, Tendou would flick it to make it hurt more

𝐚/𝐧: Yall were asking me about atsumu/worried about angst but little did u know! share ur thoughts!

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