#there goes my luck for the next fifteen years

[candymoonstuff]

Well this is interesting...

My three children and the corrupt mother, beautiful (one child is also murderous but we don't talk about that)

Also, the banner for roy and eliwood hadn't even been up for an hour (in my timezone, the day "restarts" at 2am) and I was like

"Imagine if I pull them on the first tr-"

"oh"

[harrysfolklore]

Tom Blyth and YN Take a Couples Quiz | GQ - actress!yn

gif by @obriy <333

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

read my actress!yn x tom insta blurb here <3

//

"Hi I'm YN" 

"And I'm Tom"

"And today we're doing..." you looked at Tom so you could say the following part of your introduction together, "The GQ Couple Quiz!"

"Are you nervous?" you said as you looked at him, noticing his hands fidgeting on his lap.

"I'm alright, I'm pretty confident I'm a great boyfriend and I'll know all the answers." he gave the camera his million dollar smile and you couldn't help but show a smile of your own.

"Okay, first question," you looked at the card in your hands, "What is the name of my first movie?

"That one's pretty easy," he shrugged before continuing, "Spider-man Homecoming."

"That's correct," you flipped the card to read the next question, "What city did I grow up in?

Tom stayed quiet for few seconds, looking nervously at the camera and making you laugh. 

"Already? Really?" you looked at him in disbelief, "I thought you were a great boyfriend!"

"I am! This is a tricky one!" Tom moved his hands around and you covered your mouth with the card to hide your laugh "Okay, you were born in California, but you actually grew up in Phoenix."

"Correct! See! You knew it," you grabbed the card with the next question, "What would my job be if I weren't an actress?"

"Detective," Tom quickly said, "100% detective."

"Oh! That was fast," Tom shrugged before you continued, "Okay bonus, what kind of detective?" you looked at him with a raise eyebrow.

"Homicide," he replied quickly again, "All of those true crime podcasts prove it."

"Well yeah, that's true," you smiled as you read out the following question,  "Where was our first date?"

"It was at your house," Tom smiled as he remembered the moment, "And it was playing Clue, and I had to pretend to enjoy that game for you, and it was totally worth it."

"How sweet of you," you smiled at him before continuing, "Oh boy, you have to be specific for this one," Tom raised his eyebrows and waited for you to give him the question, "What is my night routine?"

"So, she puts on this little pink robe," he explained directly to the camera, "And then she puts her hair on one of these stretchy bandanna things so her hair is out of her face," you smiled at him, indicating that he was answering correctly, "Then she washes her face with this like foamy cleanse thing, then she puts on all her creams, and then when she's walking to the bed she turns on the heat, which is probably the only thing that we fight about," you both let out a laugh as he continued, "And then she gets in, she goes by her cupboard and she puts on these really fluffy and ridiculously warm socks and also my really baggy tracksuit bottoms but she rolls 'em and she puts one of my t-shirts 'cause she likes the smell of my aftershave," he smirked and you blushed for a second, "Then she gets in bed and she asks me to put one of these big fluffy, white blankets in the dryer so It's warm, then I tuck her in and put the other blanket on her  and that's it."

"Okay wow, you killed that one," you smiled at him, "You did really well."

The next questions were pretty easy for Tom's liking, getting right your astrological sing, celebrity crush, favorite ice cream flavor and the year you won your first Emmy. He ended up getting 23 points.

Now, it was your turn to answer questions about him.

"You feel ready, love?" he said giving you a smirk and you only nodded motioning him to read the first question, "Okay good luck, how old was I when I got my first role?"

"You were fifteen and already getting cast by Ridley Scott ." you answered confidently and sent a wink his way.

"Neat. What was the name of the high school I graduated from?"

"Was it North Hilld?" at this, Tom raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "Shit! It was Hills something, right?"

"You really don't know the name, love? This is making you look bad!" you covered your face in embarrassment, even tho you knew he was joking, "The correct answer is Arnold Hills."

"Ohhh that's right, give me the next one I'll do better."

"Okay, okay," he looked down at the card with the next question,  "Who's my celebrity crush?"

"Also easy, Jennifer Aniston," you smiled looking at the camera, “You had a poster of her hidden in your closet and all.”

"Nope, you're wrong," you raised your eyebrow at him, pretty sure you were right about your answer, "You're my celebrity crush, love."

"Tom! That was so bad!" you both laughed and he winked to the camera, "This is a serious game."

"Okay, okay, you got that one right," you rolled your eyes with affection as he read your next question, "The next questions are going to be a single sentence answer so I need you to do it as fast as you can, okay?"

"I'm ready, let's do it" 

"My go-to Karaoke song?

"Senorita by Justin Timberlake."

"What is my coffee order?"

"Oat milk latte."

"What is my biggest pet peeve?"

"Loud chewers."

"What's my hidden talent?"

"Whistling, like, melodically whistling if that makes sense."

"Okayy, those are all correct," he put the cards on the small coffee table between you, "We make a pretty good team, don´t you think?"

"We do, but I'm pretty sure I won." you shrugged and Tom laughed as you both turned to the camera to say your goodbyes.

"Thank you so much for watching. I personally think I won but we'll see."

"Thank you GQ!" you waved you hand and the camera stopped rolling shortly after.

The video ended up being one of the most watched on GQ's YouTube channel.

[daisynik7]

Cure for a Hangover

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbor Kishibe, age gap (I’m thinking at least fifteen years, Kishibe pushing mid-forties, reader is in her late 20s/early 30s), alcohol consumption, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), blowjob, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, pet names (sweetheart, angel, kiddo)

Summary: Kishibe is your mysterious, brooding, and significantly older next-door neighbor. You’ve lived beside him for a while now, only exchanging basic pleasantries out of politeness, never anything more. One night, he comes home drunk, or so he thinks. It’s not his door he’s slumped again; it’s yours.

Author’s Notes: It’s been a minute since I wrote for Kishibe and I really do miss it. This old man continues to do wonders to me, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @demonwoman (bc Kishibe using kiddo as a pet name is living in my head rent free thanks to you)

part 3 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

It’s not often that you’re met with a man slumped against your door, but here you are, staring down at your next-door neighbor, Kishibe, doing just that. 

It’s past two in the morning now, and you’ve just come back from your own night out with your friends. You’re not nearly as drunk as you were three hours ago, after pounding glasses of Chardonnay while watching cheesy romance movies at your best friend’s apartment. And you’re certainly not as inebriated as the man before you, who absolutely reeks of liquor, even from a small distance away. 

You inspect the scene thoroughly, unsure what to do in this scenario. Kishibe is basically a stranger to you. Sure, you’ve exchanged basic pleasantries here and there over that past year since you moved in. That’s as far as it goes. You have no idea what his profession is, though you have a solid guess as to what it could be, given his work attire and overall physique. While you’ve never run into one yourself, devils run rampart in Tokyo, hell-bent on causing chaos wherever they spawn. Kishibe looks like a Devil Hunter, whose job is to eliminate these monsters. It’s intriguing, that’s for sure, but you’ve never mustered the courage to ask him about it, leaving him to maintain his mysterious demeanor. 

However, right now, you don’t see a Devil Hunter in front of you. Instead, it’s a simple man who is very drunk and very much in your way.

Deciding to help him, because that’s the only choice you have if you want to get into your apartment, you kneel down to search his overcoat, patting the breast pocket for keys. When you find nothing, you move to his pants, retrieving only his phone. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring, blissfully unaware of your predicament in his drunken stupor. You take this time to study his face. He’s looks much older up close; not only that, he’s even more handsome than you originally thought. There’s a prominent scar running from his mouth to his jaw, surely an interesting story behind it. You’re tempted to trace it delicately with your finger, but you ultimately resist the urge, snapping out of it to investigate his phone for any clues. 

There are several missed calls and texts from a person named Kenji. You use the Face ID feature to unlock his phone, thanking the universe that even with his eyes shuts, it works. Not wanting to pry more than necessary, you check the most recent texts for the answer to your question: Where the hell are his keys?

Kenji: you left your keys at the bar, come back now. I’m closing up soon

Kenji: I’m not waiting for your ass

Kenji: I’m leaving, get them tomorrow

You read over the messages once more, groaning quietly to yourself at your dumb luck. Desperate now, you resort to the next logical step.

“Hey,” you say, tapping him lightly on the cheek, rousing him awake. “Kishibe.”

Slowly, but surely, he opens his eyes, half-lidded, struggling to focus on you. “Huh?” His breath is heavy with liquor, most likely whiskey. His voice is deep and gravelly, and you hate admitting that’s it’s almost sexy. Well, not almost. It is sexy. 

Letting the inappropriate thought fade, you say, “You’re at the wrong apartment. This is mine.”

He blinks three times, opening his eyes properly to stare at you, expression confused. “Am I dead?”

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “No, you’re not.”

“Am I in heaven?”

You shake your head, repeating, “No, you’re not.”

“Then why is there any angel here with me?” He sounds sincere, and you can’t help but break out into a genuine smile. 

“I’m not an angel,” you reply, giggling. 

His lips curve into a cocky grin. “You sure? You look like one to me.” Cheeky bastard, hitting on you while he’s plastered. And look at you, finding it endearing when he does. 

Slightly more relaxed, you slide the phone into his breast pocket, standing up to unlock your door. You can’t just leave him out here all night, so you decide to let him stay with you until he’s sober enough to call a locksmith. You jiggle the keys, turning the knob to open the door, and suddenly, there’s a loud thud, and then a delayed, “Ow.” He’s laid flat in the middle of your doorway, hitting his head on the hardwood. You feel guilty, not having the foresight to see this coming. His body is much sturdier than you anticipated. 

You kneel down, apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He winces, rubbing the back of his skull, then gives you a goofy smile. “I’ll be fine. Think I can get a kiss to make it feel better?”

You roll your eyes at him, once again unable to contain your laughter. “I’ll get you some ice. Let’s get you to the couch first, okay?”

Somehow, some way, whether it’s spurred by adrenaline or desperation to finally get some sleep in your own bed, you manage to haul him up by the armpits and drag him the short distance to your couch. You fluff a pillow and place it under his head, making it as comfortable as possible for him. “I’ll get the ice now.”

Before you can stand up, he grabs your wrist, gripping you tightly. “What about my kiss?”

“Nope. Not happening. I bet you don’t even know my name,” you challenge him.

He doesn’t respond, loosening his hold so you can get up. You fill a plastic bag with ice, returning to surround the back of his head with it. Eventually, he utters your name, eyes closed while he relaxes to your touch. He peeks at you with one eye open, waiting for you to confirm. 

You nod, grinning. “So, you do know my name.”

“Can I get my kiss now?” he teases, gazing at you.

You shake your head. “Definitely not. I will not take advantage of a drunk person, that’s fucked up.”

He sighs, exhaling deeply, broad chest rising and falling. “Yeah, you’re right. I knew you were a good girl.”

You try not to hang on to those words, especially the last two, already fluttering below your belly over it. Grabbing his hand to replace yours, you instruct him to keep it there while you return to the kitchen to pour him a large glass of water. Within the short amount of time you’re gone, he falls asleep, his hand barely holding onto to the ice pack. 

You smile to yourself, setting the glass of water down on the coffee table to continue attending to his minor injury. After a while, when you notice that there isn’t any bump or swelling developing, you stop icing him. He snores peacefully in a deep sleep, no sign of waking up anytime soon. As gingerly as you can, you remove his overcoat, draping it over the back of the couch. You set his phone next to the glass of water, for easy access. His tie looks tight around his collar, so you loosen it. Finally, you remove his shoes from his feet, laying them by the front door near your own pair. You’re certain he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling like shit, so you place a bottle of painkillers by his phone in case he needs them. 

It's past three now by the time you’re dressed down in your pajamas and snuggled in bed. You keep the door ajar, listening to Kishibe’s steady breathing in the living room, treating it like white noise to help you fall fast asleep. 

~~~

Kishibe wakes up with his head throbbing. He stares up at the ceiling, not recognizing it as his own. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that this isn’t his apartment. 

He turns, seeing his phone, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers on the coffee table arm’s reach of him. Slowly, he sits up, grimacing from the pain, downing all the water in three large gulps. He checks his phone, thankfully still on its last leg of battery. It’s almost eleven on a Saturday morning and he’s sure Kenji, his bartender friend, is already awake, preparing for the day. 

“Kenji,” he mutters, throat hoarse from last night’s festivities. 

His friend first berates him for forgetting his keys, then laughs when Kishibe explains that somehow, some way, he managed to fall asleep on someone else’s couch. He could have woken up in worst conditions, that’s for sure. 

Kenji agrees to stop by after running his errands, in about two hours or so. Beggars can’t be choosers, so Kishibe has no choice but to wait. When they’re phone conversation is over, he sinks back into the cushions, trying to piece everything together from just a few hours ago. He recalls snippets of it, and he grows increasingly embarrassed as the memories play vividly in his brain. He’s certain he called his neighbor an angel, and even more sure that he was begging her for a kiss. How shit-faced was he to compel him to do that? Obviously, very. How could he let his intrusive thoughts blurt out of his mouth like that?

Call it cliché or whatever, but yes, Kishibe is attracted his young, pretty neighbor next door. However, he’s held off on making a move because he doesn’t want to make things between them awkward. Once he crosses that line, their relationship gets more complicated. And the devil knows that Kishibe doesn’t do complicated. So, he’s content with gazing from afar, exchanging basic small talk with one another whenever they pass each other in the hallway. That’s as far as it’s gone with her, and that’s as far as it will go. 

Of course, that’s all fucked up now thanks to his drunken antics from last night. 

Before he can make his move, he hears a bedroom door creak open from behind him. She comes out, looking fresh out of the shower, dressed in skimpy pajama bottoms that are short enough to expose that tantalizing curve right below her ass. Surely, she’s doing this on purpose, right? She has to know how fucking sexy she looks right now, there’s no way she doesn’t. 

He clears his throat, preparing to explain himself right off the bat to avoid an awkward confrontation. But he’s rendered momentarily speechless when she flashes a bright smile at him. “Morning, Kishibe.”

He huffs out a short laugh. “Morning.”

She steps towards him, sitting at the opposite end of the couch by his feet. Her shorts ride up and he’s sure he can see the lacey outline of her panties. Or maybe it’s just his perverse imagination, who knows at this point. “How are you feeling?” she asks, genuinely concerned.

He grunts. “Like shit,” he answers. “But it could be worse.”

“That’s the spirit,” she teases, patting his knee. 

His head pounds from his hangover, though it’s his heartbeat that thumps loudly against his eardrums, aroused by her touch. He has got to control himself. Doing his best to distract her from the raging boner growing beneath his slacks, he asks, “What happened last night?”

She explains her account of the evening in detail, her voice soft and soothing, cautious of his current headache. She leaves out the parts where he embarrasses himself, which he’s grateful for, not wanting to relive the humiliation. When she’s done, she offers, “If you want, you can take a shower while you wait for your friend to arrive. I can get you some towels. I even have a toothbrush you can use.”

He raises a brow at her. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?”

“Do you need someone to tell you that you stink? I thought it was pretty obvious given the state you’re in,” she quips, matching his expression.

He laughs, genuinely amused by her response. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

She leads him into her bathroom, showing him how to work the knob for hot water, pointing out the shampoo, conditioner, and soap kept neatly on a corner shelf of her bathtub. She lingers for a bit while he starts the shower, then hands him a clean towel and new toothbrush. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

Surprisingly, he makes it through his shower without succumbing to the temptation to touch himself. As degenerate as he can be, he still has some sense of respect and pride in him, enough to resist masturbating in his neighbor’s shower. He does, however, give her shampoo and conditioner bottles an extra-long sniff.

He dries off, scrubbing his hair with the towel, cleaning behind his ears with cotton swabs, checking his piercings. Towel wrapped around his waist, he brushes his teeth, making sure to go the full two minutes, scrubbing his tongue after. He hasn’t made the best impression so far, so he figures he should try to change that now, if there’s still a chance. Feeling fresh and clean, he stares down at his clothes in a pile on the floor. Even from where he stands, he can smell them, almost like they’ve been diluted in liquor and musk. Without thinking, he steps out of the bathroom, calling out her name. “Got any clothes I could borrow?”

She’s in the kitchen when he comes out, leaning over the stove as she cooks something that smells wonderful. She turns to face him, staring wide-eyed as he stands almost naked in the middle of her living room. Her gaze drifts down his bare body, lingering on his sculpted abs, then at the towel wrapped precariously around his waist. She snaps out of it in time, saying, “I don’t. Sorry.”

“My clothes fucking stink and I don’t want to wear them right now. Mind if I just walk around like this?” 

“Sure. I mean, I don’t mind.” She focuses her attention back to the pan, continuing to cook what looks like scrambled eggs. 

He knows this is a bizarre request, though this day couldn’t get any more bizarre than it already is, can it?

~~~

You’re not exactly sure how to refuse Kishibe’s request to walk around half naked in your apartment, so instead, you agree to it, claiming that you don’t mind. In actuality, you mind very much, simply because you can’t help but fantasize about the delicious sight beneath the towel. One wrong move like a bump to the hip is all it takes to see that pesky cover fall down. Geez, when did you become such a pervert? And for an old man?!

Desperate for a distraction, you maintain focus on the eggs in front of you. While he was in the shower, you decided to start breakfast, something hearty to combat that hangover of his. Scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, comforting foods to soak up the remaining alcohol left in his body. He makes his way towards you, scooting a chair out from the table to take a seat. He strategically maneuvers himself to not accidentally expose you, though you really don’t mind if he does. Again, perverted thoughts, shame on you!

Finished cooking, you scoop the eggs out onto his plate and the other meant for you. He thanks you, taking a whiff of his breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Smells good.”

You pass him another glass of liquid, this one filled with an electrolyte drink meant for hydration after a night of drinking. “Drink this. It’ll help with your hangover.”

He eyes it suspiciously, then takes a gulp without questioning it further. 

The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, ignoring the obvious tension hanging in the air. From your peripheral, you notice the glint of steel hooked to his ear lobe. Piercings, which you never noticed before. Sexy.

He ends up finishing his entire meal, popping a few painkillers to chase it all down. He even chugs the electrolyte drink, claiming it isn’t so bad. While you take the last few bites of your toast, he excuses himself to brush his teeth again. You’re surprised at how hygienic he is, considering how he appeared before you just mere hours ago, hunched against your front door covered in his own liquor-soaked sweat. You take the plates, stacking them in the sink to wash for later. How much longer is his friend going to take to arrive here? You’re getting nervous, thinking of other ways to fill this gap of time without making your attraction to him so obvious. 

You sit on the couch, turning the TV on to a random sitcom with the volume low, listening to the rush of water from the faucet inside the bathroom. When it stops, you try to find a comfortable position to sit in. It’s only now that you realize how short your pajama bottoms are; they ride all the way up your thighs and you can practically see your underwear through them. It’s too late to change when Kishibe returns, still clad in just a towel, taking a seat on the other side of the couch a safe distance beside you. It’s silent for a brief moment, neither of you knowing what to say in this odd situation. You shift nervously, tugging at the hem of your shorts. 

“Thank you,” he starts, avoiding your gaze, staring ahead at the television. “For taking care of me. Must have been annoying to deal with a drunken old man.”

You smile, relaxing. “It wasn’t so bad. Besides, I couldn’t just leave you out there like that. Someone could have taken advantage of you.”

“Like you almost did?” he smirks, facing you now.

Laughing, you meet his gaze. “You remember that?”

“I do.” He spreads his legs apart just barely, towel draped dangerously over his knee, almost ready to slip.

You swallow hard, avoiding a glance in that direction, heat surrounding your cheeks. “Well, I was a good girl, remember? I didn’t do anything.”

He hums, nodding slowly, eyes drilling into yours. “You were a very good girl.”

Your breath hitches and you find yourself gravitating towards him, scooting closer. He grins, the scar on his cheek curving with it, voice low and seductive. “You gonna be bad for me now?”

“Only if you want me to,” you purr, sliding your hand beneath the towel, up his thigh, arousal pooling between your legs. Fuck it. He wants it, you want it. There’s no denying it anymore. 

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pulling you in for a kiss. His mouth is cool and minty against yours, the remnants of toothpaste lingering in his spit. You slurp it up, hungry for any taste of him. He removes the towel from his waist, shrugging it to the floor, leaving him completely naked. You glance at his lap and bite back a moan, amazed at how fucking big he is, way too eager to have him inside you, desperate to be filled to the brim.

“Not bad for an old man, huh?” he chuckles, wrapping his fist around the shaft, stroking it.

“Not bad at all,” you smile, stripping out of your clothes hastily, kneeling between his legs with your mouth open.

He feeds you his cock, humming when you surround him in your wet heat, swallowing him to the hilt. One hand grips the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down his shaft. “You’re filthy, taking your neighbor’s cock like this. Who knew you’d be such a slut?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with his other hand. “Touch yourself while I fuck this filthy mouth. Get that pretty pussy wet for me.”

You obey, spurred on by his vulgarity, reaching for your arousal, rubbing your throbbing clit with fast fingers. His cock hits the back of your throat and you guzzle him down to resist gagging, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. He moans, bucking his hips slightly, enraptured by you. With his thumb, he brushes away a tear welling at the corner of your eye, pulling out halfway. “Don’t hurt yourself, kiddo. It’s okay if I’m too much for you.”

You release him completely, moving down to his balls, nuzzling your nose to them. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

He clicks his teeth, beckoning you on the couch, almost like you’re being scolded for something you weren’t supposed to do. You roll your eyes, sitting beside him begrudgingly. He leans close to you, hot on your ear, one hand sliding between your legs while the other continues to stroke his dick. “I want to touch you too. That okay?”

You whine in response, tugging him in for a passionate kiss. He massages deep circles around your clit, fingers squelching from your slick gathering along your entrance. “I want a taste,” he growls, splitting apart your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt. 

You nod, sinking into the couch, relinquishing all control to him. You let your pleasured moans speak for you as he dives into your pussy, eating you out sloppily. His facial hair grazes against you with each careful stroke of his tongue and you ache to see his chin shiny with your cum. Eventually, he slips inside you, pumping two digits in and out, mouth still working your bud. Soon, it becomes too much and you’re gushing for him, whimpering his name with ragged breaths, soaking his face in your essence. 

He chuckles, the vibrations resonating to your clit, causing you to twitch with overstimulation. “That’s my girl, making such a mess for me.”

“Fuck me, Kishibe,” you breathe out, craving to be stuffed full of him. You’re reeling from your high, and if he’s not inside you soon, you’re sure you’ll go insane.

He hoists you up onto his lap, precum oozing from the tip of his dick. “How about you fuck me? Show me how much of a slut you are.”

Too fucked out to argue, you lift up on your knees, position him to your wet hole, sinking down slowly. He slides in easily, pussy sleek from your previous orgasm. It’s better than you imagined, every inch of him stimulating every inch of you. You savor it, rocking against him slowly. He kisses along on your neck, trailing to your nipples to suckle on them. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans, thrusting up into you to match your rhythm. “Take this cock however you like. It’s all yours.”

You bounce on him faster, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss him. He palms your ass cheeks, squeezing them in his firm grip, delivering a few loud smacks that echo off the walls of your living room, stinging your skin. “Fuck, I knew you were a good girl. Knew it the moment I met you,” he growls, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit. “Always wanted you like this.”

You kiss him harder at his confession, your chest swelling, pussy fluttering. You’re approaching another climax, teetering on the edge. As if he senses it, he tightens his hold on you, fucking into you faster, deeper. “Come for me, angel. Come on this cock.”

And you do, clenching him with your orgasm, making him mutter, “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming with you.” He shoots his load inside you, filling you up, just like you wanted. 

It takes a moment for the two of you to catch your breaths, relaxing into each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses without speaking. You study his face again, similar to how you did just several hours before, when he was slumped against your door, drunk. You thought he was handsome then, even more so now. “How’s your hangover?” you ask, breaking the silence. 

He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Much better.”

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 15 (18+)

a/n: thank you @bahablastplz for editing! i apologize for the delay. my work schedule goes back to normal next month so i'll have my head back on straight then. thank you for your patience! i hope you enjoy the chapter :)

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter fourteen here ]

Chapter Fifteen: Of Showers and Cabins

Tuesday, November 14th

You’re in the living room with Han, Felix, Hyunjin, Jeongin, Changbin and Charlotte. Han gathered you all to practice an upcoming presentation for his public speaking class. As you watch him discuss his chosen topic of Greek Mythology (accompanied by a PowerPoint on the TV behind him), you wonder when his nerves are going to set in, when he’s going to slip up or stumble over his words—he never does. None of the members interject, taunt or tease him.

Han is confident in front of them. Perhaps because of them. He has no problem being the center of attention in the house, around his friends. On his own in front of strangers must be another thing entirely, apparently.  

After he’s finished, the boys offer suggestions on things he could make clearer or that are not necessary to mention. You’ve seen how they operate together—typically silly beyond belief but at the end of the day, they’re always there for each other. Still, it surprises you how gentle they are with him, knowing he’s facing something that makes him uncomfortable.

Han thanks everyone for their time before sitting on the sectional between Changbin and Felix, and with his very next breath says how much he does not want to do this.

“If you bomb it, just remember you’ll probably never see those people again after you graduate,” Changbin tries to console him.

“Maybe not,” Han replies. “But they will have an embarrassing memory of me etched into their brain forever, if I do.”

“We could come sit in the back of the class,” Hyunjin offers. “For moral support.”

Hyunjin is laying down on the couch, legs resting on Changbin’s thighs and his head on your lap as you play with his hair. Jeongin and Charlotte are on the other side of you, cuddled together and in their own little world now.

“Please don’t do that.” Han shakes his head.

“Just relax…don’t overthink it,” Felix tells him, shrugging.

“Easy for you to say,” Han rolls his eyes. “If I, too, had a voice made for smutty audiobooks, I’d probably be giving speeches every day for fun.”

Changbin laughs, “He has a point, ‘Lix. Give us a ‘that’s my good girl’.”

Felix smiles devilishly, eyebrows raised as he leans across Han and motions with his finger for Changbin to come closer. In the deepest, most sultry tone you’ve ever heard from him he says, “That’s my fucking good girl.”

Changbin wiggles his body, as if shivers are running through him and Felix lets out a boisterous laugh.

“Just get through it,” Felix leans back and returns his attention to Han, “and next week we’ll have a nice break at the cabin.”

“Cabin?” You ask.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin says, looking up at you and offers a weak smile. “I forgot to tell you.”

You smack him on the head, and he flinches.

“They just decided on it a few days ago,” he attempts to defend himself.

“For Thanksgiving weekend,” Felix informs you. “It’s maybe about an hour and a half away from here. But if you’re going home to visit family that’s fine, of course.”

You hadn’t gone home for Thanksgiving since freshman year. It’s too short of a time span, with most of it spent in the airport. And God forbid there are delays.

“No, I hadn’t planned to,” you tell him.

“Good. ‘Cause I make an amazing peach cobbler,” he does the chef’s kiss motion. “You wouldn’t wanna miss it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You look down at Hyunjin, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

“I’m sorry?” He attempts puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, you will be. Sorry and broke.” You retort.

Thursday, November 16th

You’ve returned home from your morning class and it’s no surprise Hyunjin is still sleeping. You’re in the girls’ room doing homework and waiting for him to wake up. Rhiannon is in the den with you, click-clacking away on her keyboard. The others are either in class or out of the house.

It’s nearly 1:00pm when you receive a text from Hyunjin.

Are you not back yet?

It makes you smile—picturing him waking up in bed alone, knowing you should be back from school by now and expecting you to be there, snuggling up with him.  

I’m in the den, doing homework.

You sleep too much.

No such thing. I’m gonna hop in the shower…lunch when I’m out?

Of course. I got you.

And yes, you do. You have him. You will whip him up a lunch of his choosing, after business is handled. Now that half the members are out of the competition, you don’t think he’ll object as heavily to losing. You’ve been waiting for this day—you know his Thursday routine. He sleeps in, showers, eats, then goes to class. Now is the perfect time to take action.

“Rhi,” you call out to her, spinning around in your chairs.

“Hmm?” Is her reply, but she doesn’t take her gaze away from her computer screen.

“I’m going up now.”

She finally turns around to look at you, “You got this.” She gives you a thumbs up and a wink.

You exit the den and head upstairs. You’re not sure if this is allowed, but there was never anything said about areas of the house specifically being off limits to the girls. You’d never seen or caught any of the members in the girl’s bathroom with their assignees, though.

When you make it to the second floor, you hear music playing at the end of the hall. You tiptoe towards the bathroom and can hear the shower water running, too. You take a deep breath as you turn the doorknob, hoping that your calculations of who’s home and who’s away is correct. Since the boys also share a bathroom, you have to pray that Hyunjin is alone.

You tentatively step inside, peeking your head in first to make sure no one else is there. The coast is clear and Hyunjin is already in the shower, thankfully. Their bathroom is set up exactly like the girls—multiple sinks, showers, and separate rooms for the toilets. The glass surrounding the shower is fogged up, keeping your entrance a secret. You quietly close and lock the door behind you.

Hyunjin is obliviously singing along to the Mac Miller song blaring from the speaker. You quickly slip out of your clothes and set them in a pile on the sink before making your way to the shower door.

You grip the handle and gently pull the door open. Hyunjin is standing directly under the showerhead with his back towards you. His head is tilted back, eyes shut as the water pours over him. You have a fraction of a second to enjoy the sight because as soon as the cold air hits him he whips around, screams and holds his hands up in defense.

You immediately burst into laughter.

“Y/N,” he says, exhaling lightly when realization sets in that it’s you.

You enter the shower and close the door behind you, sealing the steam and warmth back in. He’s leaning against the wall, hand now over his chest and just completely…exposed. You don’t let the opportunity to run your eyes over his body pass.   

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” you say with a small shrug and smile.

He clicks his tongue, “Liar.”

He pushes away from the wall, standing under the water again. You step around him, positioning yourself between him and the shower wall.

“This is it, huh?” He asks, seeing the look in your eyes.

You nod in response and start to lower yourself to your knees.

“Uh-uh,” he shakes his head and grabs your waist to stop you.

He pulls you up so you’re standing and covers your mouth with his. His tongue glides over your lips and your eyes flutter shut as you relax and let him take the lead. You don’t have to worry about what comes next with him. You know he’s about to make you feel like you never existed until you met him.

“You first,” he says, breaking the kiss. 

He backs you up against the wall and gets down on his knees. You step your legs further apart to allow him better access. He slides one hand up your stomach to cup your breast, pinching your nipple and watching with a smile as you push your hips forward in an attempt to get his mouth right where you want it.

He doesn’t make you wait. He latches on to your pussy with his mouth and your hands immediately go to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling at the roots. You lean your head back against the wall and let out a sigh, feeling his tongue slide back and forth, up and down between your folds.

You hadn’t exactly been fucking your ex every single day, however since moving into the SKZ house you’d grown accustomed to some kind of regular sexual activity. You hadn’t gone more than seven days without it since being here. It’s been sixteen, and it felt like an eternity.

You turn your gaze down to Hyunjin. He’s focused on the task at hand as the water cascades down his back. With your hands still in his hair, you press him against you harder, rocking your hips against his face. He chuckles at this. His other hand slips between your legs to find your opening and pushes two fingers inside of you.

“You missed me, jagiya?” He murmurs, looking up at you with those smiling brown eyes.

“Yes,” you reply without hesitation.

“Good,” he places a kiss on your clit then returns his focus to fucking you with his fingers and playing with your breasts, your nipples.

One, maybe two, songs play out on the speaker as he continues to pleasure you. Alternating from using his fingers to his mouth, never seeming to grow tired of the work he’s putting in. You want to let him finish; you want to come standing over him like this. But you need him to fuck you.

Sure, he’s technically out of the game now due to his actions. You’ve got to see this through, though, to make sure he’s out-out. 

You release the hairs on his head and grab his wrist to stop him. You motion for him to stand, and he does, popping his fingers in his mouth to lick your juices off. He kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

You push him away and turn around, pressing your chest against the wall and turning your head to the side. You arch your back, pushing your ass against him. He reaches up to move the shower head out of the way a bit as his other hand rubs his dick up and down your slit. He revels in the feeling for a moment, teasing you.

When his dick reaches your opening, he thrusts his hips forward and you moan at the feel of him inside of you, arching your back even more.

“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head as he holds your hips still. “I’m not sure how long—”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “You can make it up to me.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

He starts fucking you—pulling out, thrusting in. Gripping your hips, your breasts, hands wandering all over your body. It’s like he can’t decide what he wants to do, but it’s been so long he wants to do it all.

One hand makes its way down around your waist to stimulate your clit, rubbing circles as he continues thrusting. He leans forward and showers your back in the sweetest, softest kisses. Combined with everything else and how long it’s been, it’s enough. Your palms are flat against the shower wall, helping you push your hips back against him. You feel your legs start to shake and Hyunjin gets the hint. He doesn’t change anything he’s doing, knowing what you’re feeling right now is what will make you come.

“Fuck, fuck,” he exhales heavily as your pussy clenches around his dick. He can’t hold back any longer. He thrusts into you with reckless abandon, gripping your hips as he releases himself into you.

When he’s done, he wraps his arm under your breasts and pulls you back against him. He moves the showerhead back in place, so the warm water falls over both of you.

“Fine. I guess I’ll do the dishes for you,” he jokes, leaning down to rest his cheek against yours.

“At least you don’t have to hold back anymore,” you reply.

“That’s true. I want you in the room ready for me when I’m back from class.”

You turn your head to look at him—he’s smiling.

He had never demanded such a thing before. Not that it’s much of a demand…more of a request. Close enough for Hyunjin.  

Thanksgiving Weekend

Thursday, November 23rd

The house is just as chaotic as you imagined it would be this morning. Twelve people up before the crack of dawn loading cars with food and luggage while still half asleep. Chan instructs you and the other girls to leave first in the car with all the food to get started on the meal. He plugs in the address on the GPS and then you’re off.

The roads are relatively empty, so the drive takes just about an hour and a half. The last fifteen minutes are spent off the main road, driving slowly up a rocky path surrounded by trees.

“Now that’s a cabin,” Rhiannon says as you park the car.

It looks like a log cabin in that the exterior and pillars are all made of wood, except the top portion of the home is triangular with wooden awnings on the sides that cover the wraparound porch on the second level. There are several large windows with no coverings—probably a good thing the location is remote, so no one has to worry about neighbors looking in. In the front yard is a patio table and fire pit surrounded by chairs.

You all exit the car and start lugging the food to the front door. You enter the code on the keypad Chan had texted you and it unlocks.

The interior holds up the log cabin feel with a wide, open floor plan, but all the furniture and appliances make it feel modern. You all momentarily abandon the food at the door to explore the inside. There are four bedrooms, one downstairs and three on the second level, the third level has a loft with a computer desk and ping pong table.

You wonder if this is a rental property or if the SKZ fraternity owns it. You wouldn’t be shocked by the latter, but it’s none of your business.

After touring the cabin, the four of you get back to business and haul the food inside to start prepping the meal. The menu is a mix of traditional American and Korean food for the holiday.

When the boys arrive an hour later, they’ve stopped for a few essentials—mainly alcohol. They unload all the luggage then crowd in the kitchen and start debating over who will sleep where.

“Room Roulette?” Han suggests.

“Assignees and their members?” Jeongin says, winking at Charlotte.

“You’re already out—of course you want that,” Lee Know rebuffs while vigorously working on stuffing the turkey.

“Don’t think you can resist?” Allie asks, to which he rolls his eyes.

She still hasn’t been able to get him to break, but she’s been persistent.

“Ladies choice?” Hyunjin offers as he comes up behind you, standing at the stove, and wraps his hands around your waist.

You nudge him away playfully with your shoulder, but he stays put a moment longer, kissing the back of your neck.

“Does it really matter?” Changbin speaks up. “Everyone will just fall asleep wherever anyways.”

They continue back and forth until they’ve all had enough and just stare at Chan to make a decision.

He points to Jeongin, Han and Hyunjin, “Kai bai bo.”

The three of them stand on separate sides of the island and begin playing rock, paper, scissors. Han is out first. Before Hyunjin and Jeongin start, Jeongin has Charlotte kiss his hands for luck. It must work, because Hyunjin loses.  

Jeongin grins, heart melting dimples on display, and gives a satisfied nod.

“That’s settled then—assignees and their members,” Chan announces.

You’re still focused on the food you’re cooking, but you want so badly to turn and look at Chan to see his expression. Sharing a room with him and Hyunjin? Is he happy with the result?

The rest of the afternoon is spent with everyone helping make something. When it’s finally time for dinner, you sit between Hyunjin and Chan. You’re thankful to be here with all of them. You think back to what Chan said on your first day at the house—that you’d gain a sense of community, and you really have.

The room assignment winds up being a nonfactor. Everyone is so full and damn near comatose that, true to Changbin’s words, they fall asleep wherever they land. You wake up on the couch in the living room and make your way back to the room, but neither Hyunjin nor Chan are there. 

The next day, everyone kind of does their own thing. You go hiking with Hyunjin and a few others while everyone else stays at the house. That night, after dinner, everyone is gathered in the living room drinking and playing games. Or at least you thought everyone was. Looking around the room, you don’t see Chan.

He was here earlier, you’re certain. Where had he gone off to?

It’s closing in on the end of the month and Chan and Lee Know are the only ones that have not yet lost the competition. The others are preoccupied with their game, so you decide to go find him. Time is running out for the month, you’re extremely aware of that. And you have a little bit of liquid courage on your side now.

You take another shot of the strawberry flavored soju before getting up from the couch. He’s not in the kitchen, dining room, or the porch. You make your way up to the room you’ve been assigned on the second floor.

There he is.

He’s laying on the bed on his stomach, scrolling through his phone when you walk in. At the sound, he promptly turns around and sits up.

“Are you bored of us?”

“Nah,” he says lightly. “Just don’t wanna get too drunk again.”

Meaning he doesn’t want to lose control of himself or say anything he might regret again, you assume.

“Would you mind some company?”

You sit next to him on the bed, draping one leg over his and looking up at him with a lazy, tipsy smile.

“PG company?” He chuckles lightly, placing his hand on your leg.

“PG-13, maybe?” You counter, sliding his hand up towards your thigh.

The feel of his fingertips gliding across your skin sends an achy feeling to your core. You want to him to press his fingers against your clit to release the ache.

He smiles back at you and hooks a finger under your chin to pull your face closer to his. Since that day in the closet, he had at least been more open to semi-steamy make out sessions but always pulled away before you could go too far.

You close the distance between you, locking your lips with his as you swing your other leg across him to straddle him. He allows it. You wrap your arms around his neck as you deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue past his lips. You can taste the alcohol on him, too, but it’s faint. Maybe you should have brought some in here. It still counts even if he’s drunk, right?

In any other context, that sounds terrible.  

You start to rock your hips against him, moaning when you feel his cock hardening through his sweatpants. His hands suddenly grip your hips to hold you in place.

“Chan, please,” you whisper. You kiss along his cheek, down to his neck, lightly nipping with your teeth. “I miss you fucking me.”

“No,” he says, but it sounds half-assed, not even half of the conviction you know he can muster. He shakes his head but his cock pressing against your thighs say otherwise. You grind against it again.

“It’s just a stupid competition,” you attempt your best pouty face. You’ve never known these antics to work with him, but you’re pulling at straws now.

“It’s more than that for me,” he replies softly.

“You have to win?”

“I have to resist.”

You furrow your brow.

“Please?” You slip your hand between your legs and squeeze his cock.

He sucks in a breath and in one swift motion, moves you off him and stands up. Before you can even get another word out, he’s walking towards the door, shutting it not so quietly behind him.

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pushed so much, so fast. You have six days left to get to him and right now, it feels like an impossible task. You knew he could hold back, but his words made it seem like it’s more than that. Resisting? Resisting what? You?

You sit for a while, wondering if he’ll come back and why this seems like such a big deal to him. After a few minutes you stand in defeat and walk to the door. As you reach for the knob, the door swings open again, startling you.

Chan is there, ushering a confused Hyunjin into the room.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asks you, sounding concerned.

“Yeah? I’m fine.”

Hyunjin turns back to look at Chan with a confused look on his face.

Chan shrugs, his eyes move from you back to Hyunjin, “Y/N needs you.”

There’s something about his tone of voice that you can’t quite pin down. He sounds…dejected almost.

You try to make sense of Chan’s thought process. You plead with him to fuck you and he won’t…so he gets the next best thing in his mind? He knows you’re turned on, that you need him, but he can’t—won’t—give in. So he brings the only other person that can satisfy you right now. Why does it feel like a slap in the face, though? With his tone and the look on his face it’s as if he’s saying, you wanna be fucked so bad? Here’s Hyunjin.

Hyunjin turns back to you and smiles lazily. He reaches for your waist, pulls you to him and kisses you. You’re still surprised by what is playing out, eyes open, looking at Chan with Hyunjin’s lips on yours. Chan breaks eye contact and turns his head as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

You shut your eyes and try your best to shake the thoughts of Chan and focus on Hyunjin. It doesn’t take much trying on your part, truthfully. You could lose yourself in trying to solve the puzzle that is Chan. The only solace from the madness he conjures up inside of you is the man still standing in front of you. The one who hasn’t left.

“How can I be of service?” Hyunjin asks, nuzzling at your neck.

You can’t help but smile at his words, his actions. He’s always ready to please you and it’s never been complicated.

Sunday, November 26th

Chan did not come back to the room that night. He didn’t sleep in the room with you and Hyunjin the entire weekend, as a matter of fact. His behavior with you throughout the day was the same as usual, though. It didn’t appear that he was upset. He even joked around with you and offered a seat on his lap when all the other chairs on the patio were taken. He’s really acting like he has something to prove by abstaining this month, and you really wish you knew what it was.

Maybe you’re thinking too deeply about it…but how can you not? You also don’t want to ruin the growth you’ve made with him, so you don’t bring it up. You do, however, have a plan to hopefully end this silly competition once and for all. To see if you can push him over the edge.

After you arrive home in the afternoon, Chan leaves with some of the other members to run an errand and you know that this is your moment. Hyunjin is somewhat surprised when you tell him you’ll be staying with Chan for the night. He doesn’t question it, just kisses your forehead and says he’ll see you tomorrow.

You shower and take the items you’ll need to Chan’s room and set up as quickly as possible. You’re not sure what time he will be back, so you have no choice but to sit and wait once you’re in place.

You can feel your heart pumping in your ears. A million thoughts are racing through your mind, trying to understand how you got here. Hoping Chan has the reaction you want. You want to win the competition, sure, who wouldn’t in this situation? But you’re also eager to please Chan in a way you’ve never tried before. To give him complete control of you.  

You’re excited. You’re nervous. You’re so out of your element.

You shift around in his bed, really wanting to check the time on your phone but unable to. Your hands are linked together with the furry black handcuffs you got from the mall, looped through a space in his headboard. You have waited all month for this. To catch him off guard, with a sight that is hopefully so shocking he will not be able to resist.

Though you tried to seduce him at other times throughout the month, you still had this wildcard up your sleeve in case none of your attempts worked. Which they hadn’t. So here you are, lying in his bed in skimpy black lingerie. It’s a one piece, lace body suit that’s cut out around the breasts so they’re on full display. The area between your legs is exposed, so you keep your legs bent, knees pressed together. The ensemble is accompanied by black, knee-high stockings and a garter belt.

You could hardly believe the sight looking at your own reflection. You just have to hope it’s enough. And fucking pray no one randomly decides to come in Chan’s room since you had no choice but to leave the door unlocked. You’d be fucking mortified.

Another few more minutes pass and you hear car doors closing in the driveway. Your heartbeat picks up again, fraught with anticipation.

It feels like a lifetime passes before you hear footsteps outside the door. Chan’s laughing at something someone said as he approaches. At least he’s in a good mood, maybe this will work. You sit up as straight as you can with your hands hanging above you.

You hold your breath as the doorknob turns while simultaneously trying to figure out what to do with your face. A cute look? A look of innocence? Seduction? You bite your bottom lip between your teeth, attempting to hide your inner panic and that’s the look you’re stuck with as he enters.

His eyes land on you—exposed and cuffed to his bed—his laugh abruptly stops. His smile falters.

He exhales a loud sigh, drops his head back and stares at the ceiling. You’re chewing on the inside of your lip now as your nerves take over. This was not the reaction you had anticipated. Is he angry?  Frustrated? Put off?

Maybe you shouldn’t have welcomed yourself into his bed. It’s not like you had an open invitation after the night he allowed you to sleep here with him. That hadn’t happened again since, and he hadn’t even mentioned it.

“Chan,” a timid voice says. It’s yours, but you hardly recognize it.

He straightens his head and looks at you again, eyes moving from your head, down to your stocking covered toes. He lets out another loud sigh and runs his hand through his hair. He shakes his head, blinking incredulously as he steps back and retreats from the room.

When the door closes, your heart sinks.

[ read chapter sixteen here ]

[ picture book for photos of the cabin and lingerie ]

a/n: please don't kill me. this one had to end on a cliffhanger. like, comment, reblog to show your support <3 what do we think, is chan coming back? or is he gonna win this thing?

taglist: @iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @hynxnelly / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo / @hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt / @fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog / @yjeonginlvr / @huneyeon / @kpop-kink / @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo / @skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie / @sailor--sun / @stephanieeeyang / @msauthor / @grlcbrd / @okkkcausewhet / @bangtancultsposts / @wannareadstories / @jenniferlr / @shroomcapp / @lyracarvahall / @palindrome969 / @grandma143

[lixie-phoria]

[10.0 americano fiasco] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

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you would have thought that the campus walk ways would be empty considering the match that was about to start in less than fifteen minutes, everyone eager to get a good seat, but it's surprisingly crowded as you and hyunjin walk down the old, cobbled path.

"-and then changbin fell down smack on his ass. funniest thing that's ever happened during practice," hyunjin finishes his story, throwing his head back to laugh. "i wish we got that on camera."

the wind is cold, kissing your skin as it pushes back your hair, and you're slightly concerned at your friend's insistence to drink his iced americano despite the weather.

"you will never let him live it down, will you?"

"of course not!"

hyunjin's excitement is contagious, because you find yourself laughing along as he skips ahead, forcing you to take bigger steps too.

"sometimes i feel bad for him. but then i remember how he keeps stealing my protein powder!"

right. of course. every few days you are reminded your best friend is only a man whose brain is hard wired into thinking about two things - the gym and girls. specifically in that order.

"and-" here hyunjin stumbles over a crack on the ground, squealing a bit.

"careful or you're going to be the one falling on your ass."

he rolls his eyes playfully at your poke, correcting himself and removing the skip from his step before falling into line with you.

"anyways so-"

"hyunjin!"

you halt, turning back to see jeongin jogging down the path towards the pair of you.

"chan hyung said you should come back for some final strategy discussions!"

you hear your best friend groan beside you.

"we've discussed our plan a million times before!" he all but whines, stomping his leg like a toddler. "why does he want to go over it again?"

"not our choice, is it? the coach said we have to."

you pat hyunjin's arm as he slouches in defeat.

"it's fine hyune. i should probably go get a seat too or all the good ones will be taken."

"sure," he mumbles, spinning on one foot to sharply turn towards you. "bye-"

you see it happen in slow motion - hyunjin's mouth opening to finish his sentence when a large body collides into him from the back, sending the boy stumbling into you.

but you feel it before you see it - ice cold americano splashing all across the front of your white top, soaking the fabric and diffusing through it in a few seconds.

"sorry!"

you faintly hear a foreign voice apologize, their figure walking ahead without stopping to clearly notice the damage they had just caused.

"holy shit," jeongin whispers, wide eyes looking between you and hyunjin, who is also frozen in his spot, hand slapped across his mouth.

"that bitch."

the culprit is long gone, melting into the sea of people ahead, and you're still too scared to look down and see exactly how much of the drink had landed on you. but you can see hyunjin's now empty cup that had been filled nearly to the brim only a few seconds ago.

"yn-" hyunjin's voice is only a whisper, and from the horror painting his face you would have thought he had seen a ghost. "shit, i'm so sorry-"

"no time for that," jeongin interrupts, recovering first, and you turn to look at him. "hyunjin did you carry an extra t-shirt or sweatshirt with you?"

the boy shakes his head.

"just your luck," jeongin mutters as he shakes his head. "i have my spare jersey from last year. yn you can borrow that."

it's like a switch goes off in hyunjin's head as he stands straight, his horror slowly morphing into annoyance.

"that won't be necessary-"

"do you want her to freeze to death?"

"well obviously not-"

"then there's no time to waste."

"why can't we ask chan hyung or someone for their jersey? maybe-"

"i have my bag with me right now. do you want to go back to the lockers and explain to hyung what you were doing drinking an ice cold americano ten minutes before a match?"

hyunjin's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, searching for something to say before he slumps in defeat.

"yn are you fine with this?"

you shrug. you really didn't have a choice.

you didn't want to agree seeing the miserable look on your best friend's face, but the drink was really starting to soak through the cloth and the cold it brought was not welcomed by your bones. you could feel the goose bumps lining your skin.

and so you find yourself accepting the jersey from jeongin, trying to reassure hyunjin it wasn't his fault. but the boy wouldn't even meet your eyes.

"thanks jeongin."

he flashes you a reassuring smile before pulling hyunjin and the two are on their way, leaving you to walk to the washrooms alone.

and it isn't until you're in one of the stalls that you really realize it's jeongin's jersey, and it has his name printed on it in big bold letters.

oh.

it's jeongin's jersey, and it smells like him - the same pepper and vanilla mix you had caught on to the at the party.

it's jeongin's jersey, and it falls around you perfectly, but it's nowhere near as nice as it would look on him - highlighting all those muscles you had felt that night.

it's jeongin's jersey, and you're wearing it at his game, something you once used to do for yeonjun.

it's jeongin's jersey, and-

shut up!

you have to physically slap yourself, shaking your head as the sting spreads across your skin.

something was wrong with you. this wasn't that big of a deal. he was just helping you out. he probably doesn't even care.

yeah. he doesn't even care. that's right. it's okay, you shouldn't be flustered about it either, you think, shoving your own top into your bag and marching out determinedly. you were not going to let yang jeongin and his nice smelling jersey cloud your thoughts.

you were here for hyunjin today. he would have your full attention. you were going to support him and then go for lunch without thinking about-

"for fucks sake watch where you're going!"

you yelp in surprise as you face plant into a hard body, stumbling back in shock. it really wasn't a good day for you.

"i'm so sorr-"

"yn?"

you freeze.

no way.

"what are you doing here?"

no fucking way.

"...yeonjun?"

he's right there. in front of you. hair slightly tousled from when you crashed into him and eyes wide as he stares at you.

"yeonjun what-"

he saves you from your rambling by stepping closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"what are you doing?"

"is that yang jeongin's jersey?"

of course he noticed.

you want to turn right back around, dig your grave, and bury yourself alive.

"yn. are you fucking wearing jeongin's jersey right now?"

"no?"

you wish you were six feet under the ground.

"stop lying-"

"bye! gotta go!"

you push him aside, running down to occupy the first empty seat you see in the crowd of spectators, losing the boy somewhere at the back.

fuck. your. life.

taglist 1 - @thisisnotjacinta @jiisungllvr @hanjsquokka @abbiestearsricochet @adestayskz @thisrandombitch @adr1an4 @alnex05 @cheesemonky @endlessheadache @tiapatito202278ok @queen-in-the-shadows @heeee24 @chanceonceli @amesification @conwunder @weareapackofstrays @taejun-sunlix @lofasofabread @untilthesunrises @jinnie-ret @darlingz99 @kibs-and-bits @143lix @simp4myself @thisrandomgoofy15 @vixensss @luvkpopp @skz-streamer @luvenus702 @syds-dead

©lixie-phoria, 2024

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙒𝙊: 𝘏𝘐, 𝘐'𝘔… 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘐'𝘔 𝘈𝘕 𝘈𝘓𝘊𝘖𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘐𝘊

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you meet someone new at your aa meeting and have some conflicting feelings about going out to dinner with spencer.

word count: 2229

warnings: aa meetings, mentions of overdosing, and self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of fainting, and mentions of ambulances.

a/n: HEHE okay, so i don't have much to say about this chapter, just that i'm super happy about the feedback i'm getting. i'm so happy you guys are as excited about this series as i am!! but we get a little looksee inside of how the reader feels about spencer 👀👀

masterlist | series masterlist | AO3

Now picture this.

You’re a bright eyed, bushy tailed twenty something year old artist that’s excited for all that college has to offer.

Then, one day, while your father is standing in the kitchen making dinner, he sways for a moment before hitting the ground with a loud crash, the cutting board he had been stationed over tumbling to the ground with him.

It’s a mess and your mom screams in terror from where she’s sitting next to you on the couch, tears already forming in her eyes as she falls over herself to get to him. You shoot up from where you sit, you’re frozen in place, staring at the scene in front of you paralyzed in shock.

She shouts for you to call an ambulance and you vaguely remember dialing the phone number and speaking to the person on the other end. All you know is that your mom is gently tapping his cheek but he’s not responding. She presses her forehead against his and she begs for him to wake up.

You don’t know what to do. All you can do is stare.

Time is irrelevant as he’s carried out on a stretcher, you and your mother not far behind as you both climb in the back of the ambulance. The lights on top of it glow a bright, blinding red and you see someone run out from the house across from yours, standing in the middle of the road as they watch the entire scene unfold.

The vehicle was moving too fast to get a good look at their face through the door windows by the time you realized it, but you knew it was Spencer.

It’s always been Spencer.

You were nervous.

Today was your first AA meeting and you found your knee bouncing up and down from where you sat in the passenger seat of the car.

“Honey, you’re going to be fine.” Your mom speaks from behind the wheel.

“I know, I know.” You say, yet you shift nervously. “Fuck, I need a cigarette.” You swear, chewing on your nails. “This is a good thing!” Your mother says cheerfully. “New beginnings and all that! Maybe you’ll even meet new people there. Lord knows you need friends.” The last part is mumbled but you heard it.

“Mom!” You exclaim incredulously, looking at her with your mouth ajar. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just… I can’t be your only friend in this, you know that. And those people in there know more about what you’re going through than what I do.” She was right and you knew it.

“Why not?” You whine petulantly. 

She laughs, shaking her head.

It doesn’t take that long to get to the place where the meetings are held, and you stare at it from the window.

“Not that I totally don’t want to get sober, but do I have to?” You turn to your mom with a pleading look. “Jesus, how did you manage to live in New York if you can’t even handle a smaller gathering like this?” 

“I had to stop taking my anxiety meds.” 

Then it clicks and she softens.

“Listen, you’re just going to go in there and listen to other people speak. You don’t have to share anything if you don’t want to, but I want you to at least try and meet new people. Please.” She pleads. You stare at her for a moment before sighing.

“Alright, fine. You’ll pick me up when it’s over?”

“Of course. Now go before you’re late and everyone stares at you.” 

“God you’re the worst.” You groan as you get out of the car. She pauses for a moment before saying, “Good luck!” As you walk away.

AA goes as you had expected it to.

There were fifteen or so people, a little bit bigger than you would have liked, but it was comfortable. No one called on you or forced you to share if you didn’t want to. 

Hearing other people’s struggle was strangely comforting. You hadn’t realized how much your alcoholism had isolated you, separated you from making connections with other people and even yourself. 

Maybe that’s why it’s been hard for you to process the overwhelming feelings you’ve been experiencing lately. You drank to forget and not feeling anything was really just the norm for you. That’s probably why things between you and Luke hadn’t worked out.

Aside from that, you’ve come to learn the names of a few of the pledgers.

The first one was Nikki, a grunge looking Asian-American woman with cropped dyed hair. She ran in a few bad circles when she was younger, grew up in a trailer park and when her girlfriend overdosed in their hotel room, she finally decided it was time to get clean.

Then there was John, an American man with buzzed hair that was an Army Vet that drank to forget the battlefield and chose to get clean after his wife left him. If he didn’t then he wouldn’t get any kind of custody of his kids, let alone visitation.

Then there was Miranda, the oldest AA member that was currently a sponsor. She was a Hispanic woman with a stern demeanor, but she was actually quite kind when she spoke at the podium.

You felt for them all, truly. You found yourself in little pieces of their stories, and it was nice to feel seen.

When the meeting was over, you retreated outside where the other members lingered and talked. You stood off to the side, bringing out your box of cigarettes and sticking one between your lips.

“Can I bum one off you?” You heard someone ask from next to you. Your eyes widened a little at the sight of a suit wearing Miranda, but you stuck the box out towards her, and she took one.

“You got a lighter?” You asked gruffly and she nodded. “Yeah.” She reached into her pocket before you leaned forward into the flame, breathing in the fumes.

“You new?” She asks after her puff. You throw a sidelong glance at her. “Mhm.”

“How’d you like it?” She questions. “Think you’d stick around?” You shrug. “Kinda have too. I got this deal going with my mom; she lets me live with her only if I get my shit together.”

“Sounds like a good woman.” Miranda says, rocking on her heels slightly. She takes another puff before blowing it out. “A great woman.” You admit, taking a drag yourself. “How long have you been around?”

“Two or three years give our take.” She says nonchalantly. “Shit,” You blow out with a whistle. “Good for you.” And you mean it. “Wasn’t easy, but I don’t regret it. I think if you actually commit to it outside of your mom, you’d feel the same.” 

“I’m trying.” You sigh, “But withdrawal is kicking my ass.”

“Ah, the good ol’ days.” She comments sarcastically, but the words aren’t aimed at you. 

“You have a ride home?” She asks after a moment of silence. “Yeah,” You respond, flicking the ash of the burning filter to the ground below. “Cool.” She digs around in her pocket before presenting you a business card with her number on it.

“If you ever need to talk, just give me a call, yeah?” 

“Yeah…” You look up at her. “Thanks.”

Miranda flicks the cigarette on the ground, putting it out with her foot. “See you around.” She says before turning around and walking away.

You follow her, putting out the bud and stomping on it just as your mom’s car swings into view.

Tonight wasn’t a date, just a meal and catching up between friends, but God, why are you so nervous?

You don’t know why you’re so worried about your appearance, but you had changed into three different outfits in the past twenty minutes. You forced yourself to settle for a plain black V-neck shirt and a pair of dark wash jeans that were lost amongst the pile, leaning down to slip on a pair of your plain black Converse.

It was nice but casual. Perfect.

Checking the time on your phone, you had about thirty or so minutes before you had to be there give or take, but you felt restless and wanted to leave early.

Rushing out of the room, you find your mom squished into the crease of the couch with reading glasses perched on her face and her latest crocheting project on her blanketed lap, her knees bent to the side.

“Are you watching Love Island?” You ask with an amused scoff. She directs her attention towards you, ripping her gaze from the TV. “Why yes I am.” She gives you a once-over before nodding her head in approval. “You look nice, are you heading out somewhere?”

“Uh…” You flush. “Yeah… I’m having dinner with Spencer, so I just wanted to know if I could borrow the car tonight?”

“Spencer?” She asks with an intrigued grin. “Since when did you start talking to him again?” You groan. “He came over to see you yesterday when you weren’t home. I invited him in, we talked, and he asked me to dinner.”

“So, he asked you on a date?” She suggests with a wiggle of her brows. “What?” You sputter, “N - no! We're just going to catch up! So, the car, yes, or no?” She laughs aloud, throwing her head back before gesturing to the keys sitting on the coffee table.

“My baby’s all yours, but no smoking in it alright?” She threatens vaguely. You roll your eyes, huffing. “I wasn’t going to anyway. ‘Didn’t want to smell bad.” You say as you reach for the keys. “Oo, wanting to smell good for Spencer I hope?”

“Have I ever told you that you’re the worst?”

“All the time, but you love it.” She relents with a cheeky shrug, her hands resuming their weaving. “I can’t say I don’t.” You say softly. I love you. She smiles gently. “You call me if you need me, yeah?” You nod. “I will.”

“You be safe! And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Or actually you should, might do you some good.”

“You’re relentless!” You shout as you exit the house, but there’s still a smile on your face, nevertheless.

Being able to drive again was therapeutic to say the least, you were always too intoxicated to drive, and you weren’t all that interested in getting a DUI. 

You remember always being the one that drove Spencer and yourself around, the man having preferred things like walking, taking the bus, or the train, basically anything that wasn’t an automated vehicle that he had to operate.

You didn’t like when he’d go on public transport by himself, so you had worked hard to get your license. He had questioned your eagerness to take him to and fro, and it had eased your mind.

Things were so simple back then.

You remember sneaking Spencer over to your house for the first time, convincing him to sneak out with you, then, when you were adults, going out during the nighttime willingly to talk about anything and everything under the stars.

When things were simpler, when you weren’t broken. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat and your nerves begin to itch again.

The cravings were still there, but the cigarettes and routine caffeine from the coffee you drank helped to subside it some. But when you face an emotion like this, the need for a drink shoves itself to the forefront of your mind, begging you to do anything but confront it.

You don’t want it to be like that anymore. You want to feel.

You want to feel happy, reminiscent, wistful, grief, depression, hurt; you want to feel everything that comes with being a human, and maybe sitting down and explaining to Spencer what exactly happened would be a good place to start.

The restaurant is a humble thing, small and quaint, but popular.

You figured that you could go and claim a table since you were early, but you felt rooted to your seat, hands still gripping the steering wheel despite the ignition being off.

Fuck, what are you going to do?

You really, really didn’t want to dive into the heavy shit tonight, but you have no idea exactly how to go about this. So much change can happen in five years – you were the prime example of that – what if he’s someone that you don’t know anymore? You used to pride yourself on knowing everything about him.

But now… now it feels like you have no idea how to start.

You slump back in your seat, hands falling in your lap to pick at your cuticles, your teeth finding home in the flaky flesh of your lips. 

This was Spencer. Spencer who loved Doctor Who and was a total germaphobe. Spencer who already knew how to speak different languages and loved Comic Con and cosplay. He was your Spencer, your genius.

Your Spencer? Where did that come from?

That thought drove you crazy enough to wrench yourself out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind you too harshly. You wince.

“Sorry, girl.” You apologize with a grimace, patting the roof of the car. Good, now you were going crazy talking to your car. Just great.

This was fine, just dandy!

You could do this.

Really, you could!

You think.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @angelwings-crossbowstrings @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna @agent-nobody-knows

[the-s1lly-corner]

Proxies with a fem reader going to a pumpkin patch so she can pick out her pumpkin? :>

Proxies and Fem!Reader going to a pumpkin patch!

obligatory toby is platonic but tbh i dont think romance ties too much into these specific hcs also i havent been to a pumpkin patch in years so im really scraping my brain trying to remeber what people do asides pick pumpkins...and google... a lot of google... i admit i had to fight myself not to make this a group thing where it's all together but im 80% sure you wanted these separate no unique gifs for each character, too eepy (its 6am rn and i couldnt sleep for the life of me SOBS)

Masky:

I feel like out of the three he's probably going to give the most resistance, he just doesn't like being around where loads of people may be; too much noise you know? But with enough coaxing and reassurance I do believe you can convince him to tag along

Most straight forward about it, wants it to be in and out, so he kinda beelines and tries to find a pair of pumpkins that'll do

"Babe... those ones are too small to carve..." "They're. Average."

Sorry I had to make that joke

Anyways

Out of all the activities there you might get him to sit down for a hayride if it's not too too packed!

Overall it's an okay experience, but really this guy would prefer the pumpkin carving at home after the fact; out on a porch sitting next to one another, alone in comfortable silence! He saves the seeds to make into snacks later

Hoodie:

A little more willing to go out! I feel like he's the easiest in terms of talking into stuff! As long as it's not anything dangerous he's more than willing to spend time with you.... all the better to keep his eye on you.. both in a cute aww he wants to protect you way and a creepy way but hey that's creepypasta for you

If they're offering shitty quickly constructed rides count him in, he's going to be the one dragging you!

While I'm not sure what rides would be there I'm sure there'd be but you're gonna be there for way longer than originally planned

Saving this for another day but Ferris Wheel trope where it gets stuck, one of y'all totally shouldn't send in a character for me to do that for wink wink nudge nudge

Probably the most emotive you see Hoodie, ever, it's actually a little jarring at first but it's cute in it's own way that he's getting all hyped up over some rides

overall? y'all forget to actually. pick pumpkins so you guys have to almost immediately return to go browse at the pumpkins that remain. Does the thing where you knock on produce to make sure it sounds right. Does he know what he's going or what he's looking for? No clue but hey there's that mental image, Hoodie kneeling down on the ground, head pressed against a pumpkin and tapping it

Ticci Toby:

Pretends to not wanna go but really he's totally fucking stoked that you wanna go somewhere with him, him? like him him? Toby? Well if you insist-

That bit sounded mean but I believe Toby feels.... I don't know how to put it but like I think it's because he used to be bullied and left out that he still gets a little surprised when you willingly invite him to hang out; not that he's complaining though

Haunted corn maze. This fucker beelines for the corn maze. You have lost your silly friend with an affinity for collecting empty snail shells (hc)

Good luck trying to find him, if it's one of those mazes with scare actors he's not going to flinch or scream so there goes your audio cue

Eventually you do find him though! So it's not totally disastrous! It just takes you upwards of fifteen minutes because you yourself got lost before looping back to the entrance, only to find this little shit sitting right by the entrance

Seriously how the fuck did he do that?

No clue

You know how sometimes pumpkins are bumpy or a lil... off looking? Leave it to this fucker to make several jokes about how they look, primarily ragging on the bumpier ones

"Hey look, it looks like you" "shut the fuck up"/j

Generally a very good time as long as you ignore the small heart attack you got when Toby disappeared! Good luck cleaning the mess after carving up your pumpkins

He probably tries to see what the guts taste like

idk what raw pumpkin guts taste like

not sure if its any good because ive only tried pre canned pumpkin puree and used it for baking so idk if it tastes good straight from the source

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

BALLERINA - Chapter Fifteen (Epilogue)

A Jake Kiszka AU

Physiotherapist!Jake x Original Female Character

Previous Chapter.

Story Masterlist

A/N: Hi everyone! This is the final chapter of Iris and Jake’s story. Honestly, I never thought I'd be able to finish my very first chaptered fic, but here we are, finally. I'd like to thank everyone who enjoyed this little story. A big thank you goes to those who supported me and encouraged me throughout the writing of this fic. You know who you are😉

I really hope you like this!

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings for this chapter: angst, nerves, feelings.

_________________________________

Paris, a year later.

Those mirrors along the walls were reflecting her every move and she kept seeing mistakes that didn't even exist.

Iris had been dancing and practicing for almost ten hours now. Her muscles burned but she didn't really care. She wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

It was getting dark outside, signaling to her that it was almost time to go home. The next day was going to be her day. The most important one in years.

She practiced a few more moves and then packed her bags and walked the short distance separating the ballet school from her flat.

Her little rented flat, right next to her sister's, was tiny, in true parisian fashion, but it was wonderful. From her small balcony she could even see the Sacré-Cœur; its pearlescent white stones were shining even brighter with the full moon.

She tried to calm her nerves by admiring the beautiful basilica from afar, but it was useless. She was so nervous she couldn't stop her hands from shaking and her heart from hammering in her throat.

The next day was going to be a big step for her. It was the day in which she was going to dance again in front of a crowd after a year and a half.

And she couldn't stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

After tossing and turning for a while, she managed to finally turn off her brain and rest.

~

The next day, she woke up early. After a quick breakfast, she checked if she had everything she needed in her bags and left for the Opéra Garnier.

It didn't matter how many times she saw that theatre. Every time her eyes landed on its golden statues and white columns it was like the first. Little tingles travelled down her spine every time.

She showed her badge to the security at the entrace and reached her dressing room backstage.

She placed her bags on the floor, changed into her ballet shoes and started rehearsing again, trying to stop overthinking and fighting the urge to run away from there and never come back. It took her a while to finally silence the insufferable voice in her head that kept telling her that she was going to miserably fail but, eventually, she managed to do so, drowning that insecurity under the music of her choreography.

Before she knew it, her time was up.

Looking at the clock on the wall, she realized that her turn was quickly approaching.

The buzzing of her phone startled her.

She wiped her sweaty trembling hands on her leggings and read the text she had just received.

It was from her sister. She was telling her that the theater was packed and wishing her good luck using the French word “merde” like a true Parisian.

She smiled but her heart was threatening to jump out of her chest at any moment.

She finished getting ready and, when there were only 20 minutes left before her turn, she exited her dressing room.

Her heartbeat was deafening in her ears as she walked towards the stage.

She felt like a robot.

She wasn't even paying enough attention to her surroundings the closer she got to the stage so, when a pair of cold hands wrapped around her waist and dragged her behind the heavy velvet curtains, she was positively scared.

She gasped and thrashed around to escape, but a whisper in her ear made her stop abruptly.

“Iris”

Jake.

He was there.

Tears started flowing freely down her cheeks and she immediately relaxed in his grasp.

She quickly turned around and kissed him passionately, feeling his comforting presence in every cell of her body.

He cradled her face in his hands and caressed her cheeks, tenderly wiping away her tears with his thumbs.

“You told me you couldn't make it" Iris whispered.

“I told you I wasn't sure of it. I managed to arrive last night” Jake whispered back, a little smirk of mischief on his beautiful face.

“And you didn't tell me?!” She exclaimed, incredulous.

“I didn't want to distract you with my presence. But, as soon as I got here, I kept thinking about the fact that you were so close to me and I really couldn't stop myself from needing to see you, to touch you, to kiss you.” he said truthfully, blushing slightly and lowering his gaze to the floor.

She grasped his face and kissed him like it was the first time and almost lost herself in the kiss.

“Thank you” she whispered on those plump lips that she had come to know so well.

The sharp call to the stage made them both flinch and jump.

They shared a last kiss and a look full of love, before parting with a whispered “I love you.”

The moment she reached the stage the nerves were still present but she felt a lot less upset than before.

She could still feel the warmth of his presence on her lips and fingertips and that helped her immensely.

The air was cool all around her but her heart, so full of love, burned like a pyre in the night, lighting up everything with its orange glow.

The applause of the crowd filled her with joy and energy and when, finally, the first few notes of the music echoed in the room, she felt her feet start to move on their own accord, following the lead of her ever-present passion for dancing.

Throughout the performance she only ever had eyes for him, letting his calming presence guide her mind into a state in which nothing could hurt her anymore.

She had forgiven him two weeks after she had left for Paris and had abandoned him on the curb in front of her house, on that stormy morning of June, with teary eyes and a broken heart.

She had finally come to terms with the fact that life without him was simply unbearable.

She had mulled over the whole predicament so much she had given herself so many headaches, but, eventually, she came to the conclusion that, in his shoes, she would have probably done the same to protect her sister.

She realized he hadn't even meant to fall for her. It had happened. And she was so glad she felt the same and was ready to share her life with him.

When she had called him the first time, he hadn't answered and it scared her to death.

He had called her back in the middle of the night saying that he was in surgery when she had first called and asking if she was alright. He sounded extremely worried.

They had switched to a video call almost immediately and they had cried, laughed and talked for four entire hours.

The next weekend they were finally together. They had dinner in a cute little restaurant near Montmartre and then they went straight to her flat because they couldn't keep their hands off each other any longer.

He had flown to Paris a few more times while she attended the internship there and, every time, they went to visit museums and galleries together. They were always connected in some way. Her hand on his bicep, his arm around her shoulders, their fingers brushing when they walked. It was as if one was afraid to lose the other at any given moment.

Deafening applause brought her out of her thoughts abruptly.

Everyone in the room was on their feet praising her for her beautiful piece.

But three smiles were the only ones that she had eyes for.

She couldn't stop her tears from spilling while looking at them.

Her sister was standing between a very proud Jake, who mouthed a little “I love you” and Josh, who winked at Iris when he saw she was watching him and sent her a little kiss.

Their eyes were shining and their smiles beaming with love for her.

And it was all that ever mattered.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading!❤️

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[eihwaz-y-d]

So I'm currently hyperfixed on Danny Phantom and DC crossover and I really enjoyed reading Danny and Damian are twins Au. I read a lot fics and promps but they aren't enough ( there are never enough great fics in this world) and I got inspired and got this idea and it won't let go of me.... So I decided to get it out of my system so that I can concentrate on my exams but I also want people to read and tell me their thoughts about it. So I thought I share the "rough work" and later I will edit and post it on AO3 but yeah. (some infos before I do know nothing and do what I want)

Here my work in process :

Twin skeletons

Danny just wanted to go to the astronomy exhibition in Natural History museum of Gotham city, just for some peaceful hours there nothing bothers him, maybe even go to the apartly new planetarium. Being away from Amity Park, his ghost hunting parents with their obsession with ripping him apart molecule by molecule and the whole ghost attacks  (he would be able to get a few more hours of sleep) was just a plus.

He was excited about the trip! His core was humming and he felt at ease, no ghost fighting and no one hunting him for a few days, just some peaceful days in the most crime ridden city in the United States. It would be like a vacation. 

But Danny should have known better than to get his hopes up, nothing ever goes according to plan for him. 

And let's be honest here, he really should have known better, his school trip goes to Gotham city of all places, the most dangerous city in the United States (one can never say it enough). Who in their right mind even though it was a good idea to take a few teenager, who only knows danger in form from ghost attacks and the driving skills of the Fenton family and have no sense of self protection, and take them to a big city overrun with guns and drugs and psychotic criminals and crime fighting vigilantes? The adults of Amity Park apartly. (maybe the adults have also lost every ounce of common sense they owned other the last two and a half years) 

But that is beside the point, the point is Danny just wanted to see the astronomy exhibition, not held at gunpoint from a red helmet vigilante,with really strange vibes that made his ghost sense go harwire, after some criminal bombed the museum and held them hostage for whatever reason.

The first day started so promisingly well, they were supposed to get a tour through Wayne Enterprise. The tour through Wayne Enterprise went pretty well and was interesting, if not a little bit strange. Danny had the feeling everyone at the company was looking at him then he wasn't looking. It was probably nothing, it happens in Amity Park all the time(he just ignores the fact that he is not in Amity anymore and the usual reasons he is in the middle of the attention, his parents or the ghosts, are not here at the moment. And he is pretty sure he is Danny not Phantom). 

The second day they had the Museum tour where they could room afterwards as much as they liked and Danny really, really wanted some time without Dash being the bully that he is. The tour was nice, and just as the nice lady wanted to finish the tour, somewhere in the building an explosion went off. 

The lady shrieked, Danny's classmates are either looking curious for the source or talking about ghost attacks vs. Criminals, while Mr. Lancer tries and fails to get everyone to calm down so they could evacuate and Danny just curses his rotten luck. 

The next thing they knew, there were masked criminals binding them with zip ties and taking them hostage because 'if we take hostages we have a better chance of getting away from the bats'. Their words, not Danny's. 

Not fifteen minutes afterwards -Danny thought about the pros and cons about doing something against these criminals himself - a red helmeted, leather wearing hero comes gun shooting towards their rescue. 

Hooray, lucky them. 

And now, he has the gun pointed towards his face. 

"What the fuck are you?!" Besides the electronic modulation, his growl was pretty impressive or a living human, although Danny was still not sure if the hero really was living. 

"Okay, first of all, rude. Second, what is your problem? And third, could you take the gun out of my face? I really like my shirt and it would be a shame if it got ruined with blood and brain mass." 

Red Hood did nothing for a long time but then he lowered his gun but did not put it away. Waving a hand behind himself in the vague direction of his class, grinning Danny speaks again. 

" Are we free to go? I think my teacher is either having a stroke soon or he thinks about taking you on, it will probably be a lecture about treating kids. On a second thought. Please do shoot, I'm not keen on being lectured again, but don't ruin my shirt. I want to be buried in it. "

Red Hood's hand twitched and Danny grin grew even larger, showing his set of fangs. It's a shame Danny can't see the hero's face, it would be hilarious to read his reaction but the helm or the modified voice didn't give away a hint of his thoughts but Danny hoped he was at least a little bit irrational.

"Whatever kid." 

Danny waved goodbye before going back to his classmates. 

Red Hood just stayed long enough to see the boy looking towards his teacher with what looks like his best innocent face. "Mr. Lancer, I suppose we can't perhaps go back towards the astronomy exhibition?" 

The teacher just signs and guides his snickering students out of the museum.

What the hell was wrong with the kid?! 

Jason knew he needed to tell Bruce about the kid, he was nearly a carbon copy of the demon brat, and another Robin clone was never a good thing, especially now then something big is about to happen and there is yet not enough to say what. 

He should really tell Bruce, Jason knew it but something tells him not to. The moment the kid stood behind Jason's back, he thought there was something dangerous, something absolutely terrifying, something that made the Lazarus water go crazy -and for a moment Jason thought he would go into the pit madness- but than it goes all quite, like the Lazarus water itself recognize the Apex predator and hides into the deep of Jason's soul. And it hadn't raised its head ever since. For the first time since his return his mind was quiet and peaceful. 

He should really tell Bruce about this kid. If he really is a clone of Damian, then….. Jason does not know but it would only end apocalyptic bad. And if he is no clone then it wouldn't automatically be better. 

Grinding his teeth, he dials Dick's number.

It didn't take long for the older man to answer. The surprise was clear in his voice. 

" Hey Jason. Weren't you-" 

But Jason didn't let him finish. "Dick listen, I-.... There…." 

He doesn't know how to say it, or what to say first. Fortunately Dick just wait patiently for Jason to speak again, There must be something in his voice that makes him listen. 

" I was at the museum when the hostage situation happened, there was a kid. There…. There was something about the kid. Something dangerous. I put a gun to his head and It frightened the Lazarus water. "

" What do you mean 'put a gun to his Head'?! Jason?! Wait-.... Did you say he 'frightened the Lazarus water'?"

"  Yes, I don't know how else to describe it. The Kid made the pit gone quiet, it's not gone but it's feels like it's hiding and it is quiet and…. peaceful in my mind for the first time since…. Since I returned. Dick. My thoughts, my mind, my emotions, they are my own again without fighting this damned madness."

He took a deep breath but before he can continue Dick speaks first. 

"Jason…" 

" I'm not finished. That isn't the only thing about this kid. This kid, he could be a carbon copy of the demon brat, maybe it's another clone, maybe it's not but Dick… I have the feeling the kid isn't human, he is dangerous and if he stands against us…. I don't think we stand a chance. "

The older man is quite for a long time and then he speaks again, his tone is dead serious. 

" We need to inform Bruce. "

With a deep Sigh, Jason answered. " I feared you would say that. "

Edit: Part 2

[jus-a-lil-mouse]

Growing Pains

an EctoImplosion2023 fic! Check out @this-is-z-art-blog's incredible associated art here!

Valerie is still seething when she leaves campus, anger burning warm in her chest. The fall chill soothes, but it burns nonetheless, and other pedestrians move from her path as she makes her way to the bus stop. It’s half a block away; then she has a ten minute ride back home. Fifteen if the intersection near the Starbucks is backed up. 

The bus stop is crowded, and Val has to push past a group of freshmen in order to sit on the cold metal bench. Her knee aches when she stretches it out, but it relaxes once it’s straight, and Val lets out a deep breath. Her breath billows out in clouds in front of her, and she focuses on the pattern instead of lingering on her frustration. Her midterm presentation was good, informative and entertaining and she was going to ace it, frat boys in the third row be damned. They could try to trip her up and talk over her all they wanted. Val could yell, and she did, until finally her professor did something.

She digs her phone out of her pocket, putting one of her old earbuds in her ear. It takes a couple tries to get the plug in at just the right angle, but soon enough music is blocking out the chatter of the people around her. Val grins at the eleven messages waiting for her in the group chat. Sam, Danny, and Jazz had all wished her luck; Tucker had sent her a truly incomprehensible meme that she assumed was a show of support. Elle had sent her a kissing emoji. The remaining messages were Sam and Tucker admonishing Elle for being so risqué. 

(At the end of freshman year of high school, Danny had approached her. He said, “Val, I need your help.” 

She said, “With what? We took the chem final already,” because she had always been better at chemistry than him. 

He shook his head, looking more like forty than fourteen, and said “Val, come on. I know you know what this is about.” 

Icy panic gripped her, squeezing the breath from her lungs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Danny,” she pleaded. 

“Yes you do,” he said, and he told her about a ghost hunting team and where he wanted the headquarters to be. And he said “You know I’m Phantom,” and she shook her head silently, because of course he was but he couldn’t be, because he was here in front of her. “There was an accident with my parent’s portal,” he explains. “It didn’t hurt much.”

Within a couple months, they were like superheroes. Val and Danny and Elle were on the front lines; Sam and Tucker and Jazz were their women and man in the chair. It was easier when they worked together. Everyone got enough sleep. Nobody got too beat up. Elle was there. It was good.)

The bus comes to an abrupt stop in front of her. Val stands and takes a last deep breath in. She lets the fire leave with it when she breathes out. She settles on the bus between an older woman with a small dog and two gentlemen deep in conversation in a language she doesn’t recognize. The street passes by the window; the coffee shop she goes to on Wednesdays, the Thai place Dani took her last year for her birthday, the diner with the good bacon and real maple syrup.

Val watches them pass, and the embers of her frustration flare. Deep breaths. She’d wanted to go back to them so many times, run her fingers along the menu and order what she got last time anyway, sit in the same spot. Be a regular. Become part of the community, know the servers’ names. Be the person she’d appreciated at the Nasty Burger. Dani always wanted to go somewhere new instead, and Val humored her. She was a regular at her Wednesday morning coffee shop, anyway, since Dani wasn’t with her between her classes.

The bus jerks to halt at the next stop, sighing as the doors open. Val breathes her anger out into the cold drafts. She has a paper to write for sociology, a lab report for chemistry, and ten questions out of her calculus textbook. She needs to study for her biology midterm. Thursday she has therapy and dinner with her Dad. Friday is laundry day and she’ll need more quarters. 

She’s one stop from home when it happens. It’s a crow, high up, diving down towards a building. But Valerie is standing, backpack on the ground, heart pounding. Icy panic clutches her heart. She grabs her bag, practically falls out of the bus in her desperation to get off. She takes deep breaths. In, out. She sits on a cold metal bench and watches her breath billow out in front of her.

(At the end of junior year, Vlad had fucked it all up. He always did. Part of her was still glad he hadn’t picked prom night.

They’d managed to stop the world from imploding. Partway through the process, Danny had left, chasing Vlad away from them. Buying them time. Yelling a stupid quip as he flew away. Valerie had to trust him to handle it, because she was in the Fentons’ basement, doing everything she could to get the portal to stabilize. To get Elle back on this side of it.

Danny wasn’t back when the world returned to normal. Elle promised to take care of the last part of the process, as long as they went after Danny, didn’t let Vlad beat him too badly, took care of him. She trusted them to do that, so they better deliver, she yelled, and Val beat Tucker and Sam up the stairs. 

She beat them outside. That’s why she saw it happen. A well-placed hit. Hard enough to hurt.

Hard enough to start Danny hurtling out of the sky, human before he hit the ground. She’d caught him before he became a corpse on the concrete, landing awkwardly with his weight. Tucker was beside her when she landed, collapsing onto the road with Danny in his arms. He was screaming. She couldn’t hear him past the ringing in her ears, because Vlad wasn’t the only threat here. Jack and Maddie were standing in the doorway, eyes wide and full of fear. Val faced them. Vlad was doing a fucking villain monologue in the sky, and the Fentons weren’t taking their eyes off of their son. Sam rose from where she had knelt next to Tucker. Her hand was cold in Val’s, but Valerie was glad for it. She could do this on her own, but she didn’t want to. She could take on both Fentons easily; she didn’t want to hurt Danny’s parents.

In the end, she didn’t have to. Maddie reached for her blaster and Val tensed for the attack, but Maddie shot Vlad out of the sky, and nobody reached for him as he fell.)

Valerie stands. She has to get home. It’s been a long day, and she wants to watch Elle make them dinner, see her grin and laugh from the couch. She dreams of it on the walk to her apartment, as a cold drizzle starts up and her coat begins soaking through. She will go inside and it will be warm and dry, and Dani will be at the stove as she so often is this time of day. Music will be blasting, and Dani will be dancing, and Valerie will call to her as she takes off her shoes. Dani will turn the music down but not off, and meet her at the door. It was a near-daily routine, and Val couldn’t wait.

She gets the mail from their mailbox, exchanges pleasantries with Doug from downstairs, and then stands outside the apartment, listening to Dani moving around inside. Val opens the door, greeted first by Dani’s loud music. She closes the door and begins unbundling, setting her hat and scarf down on the table they keep by the door.

She tries to, anyway. The table is gone, and as she looks around, she realizes that the entire living room has been rearranged, including the pictures and paintings they had hanging up on the wall. A container of caulk sits forgotten on the coffee table, which is across the room from where it was this morning, and the couch is facing the wrong direction. 

Dani’s head appears from behind the tall wooden bookshelf they’d gotten from the secondhand store nearby. Her eyes brighten when they reach Val. “Great, you’re home!” Val doesn’t respond, trying to focus on getting her shoes off. “I redecorated, hope you don’t mind. Totally lost track of time, sorry about not having dinner ready! Could you help me with some stuff? I gotta move the bookshelf over there, and finish sealing up the old nail holes.”

Valerie takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. She wasn’t prepared for their space to be in disarray, and to have to help clean it all up. She wanted a relaxing evening after a long day. She was tired. “Val?” Dani asks, eyebrows pinched up in concern. 

Val takes a deep breath in. She lets it out. “I just- our house is different,” Val says. “I had such a long day and now I have to help with a remodel because you can’t just let things stay! You’re always changing things and our home is never the same for more than a month and we can’t ever go anywhere twice and I’m so sick of it!”

Dani’s eyes are wide, hurt clear on her face. “What are you talking about? You’re always fine with me changing around the furniture.” Dani moves closer to Val, stepping out from behind the bookshelf. “Where is this coming from? You’re always excited to go to new places with me!”

“Well maybe if you paid more attention to me, you’d know. I always just go along with what you want and you never try to do the same for me! I always have to be the one giving things up!”

“You have always said you want to do those things, why are you yelling at me for listening to you! Am I supposed to stop believing you when you tell me things? I’m supposed to read your mind and magically know you’re upset but not upset enough to tell me?”

“I’m not- I can’t- I can’t do this right now,” Val says. “I don’t want to do this.” She hears Dani protesting, but moves towards their bedroom anyway. She doesn’t want to fight; she doesn’t have the energy for it. She’s so tired, and that’s why she isn’t paying enough attention to the new layout of the room. That’s why she trips on the corner of their rug and starts to fall, slamming into the coffee table and landing on her bad knee, the old rug scraping her through her jeans.

Dani is with her in an instant, lifting her up off the floor. Val feels hot tears on her cheeks, and lets herself be held. Dani brings her to their bedroom, setting her gently on their bed. Val reaches for the tissues, and focuses on getting her breathing back under control. Dani returns to their room with the first aid kit in hand, and sits on the bed next to her. Val leans into Dani, and they sit together in silence, both searching for something to say.

Dani starts first. “I’m sorry that I upset you,” she says into Val’s shoulder. “I never want to upset you. I just wish you’d talk to me about what’s upsetting instead of shoving it down. Even at my best I won’t know everything you’re thinking. I want you to feel like you can talk to me.”

“I know I should but… How could you not have noticed that we never do what I want to do? It feels like you don’t pay any attention to how I’m feeling beyond me just saying it. And what is up with you and moving the furniture? I feel like you’re constantly changing our space without talking to me about it.”

“I never realized I don’t tell you first, I always just get the impulse to change it up and refresh the area. It gets boring if it’s the same for too long. It’s the - what does Maddie call it? - the Ghost Obsession or whatever. I love to go new places and do new things. I want adventure and change and excitement! Keep it different, change it up.”

“What, so you’re obsessed with change and I just have to deal with it?”

Dani turns to look at her, brows furrowed. “That’s not what I said at all.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t get it though,” Val replies, stretching her good leg out and crossing it over Danielle’s. 

“I’m not obsessed with change,” Dani starts. She speaks slowly and thoughtfully, placing down each word with care. “It’s more like… salmon.”

“Salmon?” Val repeats.

“I’m not obsessed with change any more than a salmon is obsessed with swimming. That’s just what it does. Is a salmon swimming upstream because it wants to? It’s compelled to? Is it just instincts? Does a bird fly south for the winter because it’s run the math on survival or because something deep inside it tells it to go? Obsession isn’t a good word for it. It’s something I need and something I am. It’s hard to explain, but does that make any sense?”

“I guess it makes sense,” Val replies. She sets her next words down gently. Carefully. “It still seems like you’re wanting me to just do what you want all the time. Like, because you can’t control it I just have to deal with it.”

“I get why you feel that way, but that’s not what I meant. I just wanted you to understand where I’m coming from, I guess.”

“Okay. That makes me feel better.” Val pauses, gathering her thoughts. She stands and changes into loose pajama pants, Dani hovering anxiously as she moves on an unsteady leg. She sits back down gingerly, thoughts collected and voice steady. “I’m frustrated because it feels like you aren’t paying enough attention to me to know I’m upset. I know that it’s silly, that I should just tell you I’m upset, but I want you to be able to know without me telling you. So that I know you care enough to notice little things about me.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Dani asks quietly. “I always thought we were good at talking about stuff, so it just feels weird that you don’t want to talk to me about what you’re feeling.”

“It’s just hard,” Val says. She takes a deep breath. “My Mom died and everything changed. And then later, when my Dad lost his job… They all just dropped me, like I was nothing and we weren’t ever friends, like they never even cared. And my Dad did his best but I had to get a job so we had enough to eat. We didn’t know if we’d be able to make rent or if Dad’s car would die and we’d be fucked. I just never knew if we’d be alright day to day and month to month and now I just - I have to know,” Val said, choking on a sob. “I have to know what’s happening when, because if I don’t know then it could all be gone.” 

Dani goes quiet for a while, starting to patch up Val’s knee. “That makes a lot of sense,” she says. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it before, Val. I promise I’ll do my best to notice any hesitancy you may have, and pay more attention to how you’re feeling. But I need you to try and be honest with me about how you’re feeling and what you want. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll always be here. I just need you to talk to me.”

Val nods. “I can do that. But can we also… make more solid plans? Maybe you could text me before you rearrange the whole apartment. Or maybe we could do it together? Make a weekend of it next time?”

Dani grins. “I would love that,” she replies. “What about the not going places? If you want to go back to places more often, maybe we could alternate? Either we alternate choosing where we go or maybe we could alternate new places and old places?”

“Something like that would be nice,” Val sighs. “I’m hungry now.”

“I bet you are, you had a long day.” Val nods, a little shaken by the realization that this has all been just one very long day. “Val? I love you so much. You know that, right?”

Val grins at her tiredly. “Of course I do. I love you too.”

“Good,” Dani says, standing up and beginning to pack up the first aid kit. “Surgery’s done, your knee’s all set. What do you want for dinner? We could try that new Chinese place up the street.”

“No,” Val says. “I want to get pizza from that place with the really good garlic knots.”

“Absolutely,” Dani says, warmth bleeding from her voice. Val takes a breath, in and out, to ground herself in this moment.

“It was easier when we were kids,” Val says. “We just had ghosts to worry about. We could just punch our problems and they’d go away.”

Dani laughs. “It wasn’t easier at all. I have a shit shoulder and your knee bothers you all the time. We were constantly fighting for our lives. It was good, though.”

Val smiles with her. “It was good.”

Dani rests their foreheads together. “It was us.”

[wlkingtravesty]

[ evan mock, cis male, he/him ] — whoa! KYLAN THRONDSEN just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for HIS WHOLE LIFE, working as a/an BARTENDER AT JOE’S TAVERN. that can’t be easy, especially at only 28 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit IMPULSIVE and SELF DESTRUCTIVE , but i know them to be ADVENTUROUS and COMEDIC RELIEF. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to QUEENS! 

jail tw, drug use mention tw, bad parenting tw

From the moment Kylan was born, the kid had been nothing but a headache. He was a fussy kid, constantly crying, never letting anyone around him get much seep, and to make matters worse, he was never supposed to be born. He was the result of a heated hook up between two strangers who were both drunk and in the moment. His dad was a leader singer of a famous rock band, and his mom was one of the many women who wanted him. It was both as simple and complicated as that.

His dad tried to be around as much as possible, given how busy his schedule was, but he had some habits that his mother did not want brought around once Kylan was born. Plus, the fought like cats and dogs. Growing up, though, Kylan always enjoyed when his did would come visit. He loved the music his did sang, wrote, was involved in and from a young age the kid dreamed of also stepping in his shoes. Much to his mother's dismay, and she did everything in her power to try to drill that out of Kylan's mindset.

Try as she might though, it never truly worked. He was too much of a rebellious spirit and always found ways to live how he wanted to live. Free, without the norms of society bringing him down, and under his own authority. Growing up, he was always looked at as the 'trouble kid' because of how he dressed, the music he listened to, the way he thought, and his group of friends. Funny thing is, as much as he did hate the system, Kylan wasn't out here trying to fight the world. He just wanted to live and write songs. Guilty by association, Kylan was always in some sort of trouble for something, and that luck carried on in his life.

At the age of fifteen, Kylan formed his first band with a close group of friends and became the lead singer. Thanks to one of the times his father was visiting, Kylan got his first tattoo when he was sixteen. The collection only grew after that, now covering his arms and other parts of his body. He got his first piercing at seventeen, and that has also since grown. And when he was eighteen, he went to jail for the first time. He was caught trespassing with a group of friends, tagging the walls of an abandoned building, and sentenced to a year.

Jail wasn't the worst experience for him, it was not the best, it was simply an experience. The only thing that did get him into trouble from time to time was his mouth; he had a nasty habit of not knowing when to let things go and often argued back if heated enough. Once he was out, he goes on to couch surf a bit, his mom wanted nothing to do with him anymore. At twenty-one he meets someone he ends up living with for a couple of years. They end up being on and off again about everything. They would hook up, then stop, date for two months, break up for one, live together, he'd be kicked out, he'd come back, and the cycle just continued for a couple of years.

It wasn't until he was twenty-four that he finally broke things off with this person and has strictly been trying to keep things friendly between them since then. They will always be special to him, that could never change no matter how many fights they had. And he began to focus more on his music again, diving entirely into it, and keeping as good of a relationship with his father as he could. The man was retired now from performing, but he had a whole other family to care for. When he turned twenty-six, he joined a band called The Dead Regime and has been a member since.

He began living by himself at twenty-six as well and has since adopted a cat and dog as roommates. He started working as a bartender at Joe's Tavern, too, and has grown to love the place. Most of the time his mind is preoccupied thinking of inspo for a new song or simply lost in the sound of drums, guitars, and a roaring crowd in his head. He still loves a good party, prefers it, and occasionally sells drugs to those who ask.

Personality:

he is the kind of person who is quiet at first, until he's not. not many people give him the chance to show that he's more than the inked covered canvas he's turned himself into, more than the voice he booms so passionately into the mic, more than just wanting to fuck the system. he is kindhearted, understanding, and compassionate. he's known to be both patient and impulsive. he's the kind of guy that if you ghost him for too long, and he deeply cares about, he will show to your house and climb through your bedroom window to get your attention. he loves 80s heavy metal, but also a mix of some hip hop in there. he doesn't go looking for trouble, but he also doesn't shy away from it.

Headcanons:

The Dead Regime plays every other weekend, so he is constantly at band practice and focusing on writing a song. He can be very zoned out sometimes, even at work, but it's just because his mind is constantly whirling for inspiration.

He loves both his cat and his pup. Obsessed. Seriously. His cat is named "Autumn" and his dog named "Pepper". If you follow him on Instagram, chances are you have seen his pet spam.

He will spray paint a wall if given the chance. It's just in his nature to want to spruce things up if they look dull, and he's clearly not learned his lesson from being in jail.

He is a sucker for sarcastic dry sense of humors.

[electricbluebutterflies]

from the wedding prompts: last-minute arguments for joel/tess?

Modern AU, PG-ish, and also on ao3.

This is what Tess gets for thinking a trip down to the courthouse would be the easy option.

Tess is, as far as she’s concerned, not really the marrying type. She is also aware that changing her status would make certain parts of her life a lot easier, and if nothing else it’ll mean no weird looks from the lady at the tax-prep place next year, and-

Easy option. Yeah. Like goddamn hell it is.

She has no one to blame for this but herself – it was her idea, anything big they do is her idea, Joel just goes with her occasional uncharacteristic moments of ambition bless his heart – and she’s kinda side-eyeing herself for deciding two weeks ago that it was about time for them to get married, and-

“You seen my tie?”

“You own a tie?”

Fifteen years as… honestly their dynamic has always had more of a roommates-with-benefits tendency than anything Tess would ever describe as romantic, and it suits both of them fine, but still-

“Think it may have fish on it?”

Yeah no, she remembers it now, clearance-rack abomination bought a couple years ago because someone wanted to appeal a parking ticket and come to think of it that was the last time they had any reason to be near the courthouse, and she’d thrown it out right after because it hurt her eyes bad enough she didn’t even want to get on top of him when they got home from that little adventure, and-

“Don’t have any memory of the thing,” Tess yells from her perch in the bathroom. She’s figured that such a life-altering occasion might be the first reason she’s had in multiple years to put on makeup, and eyeliner has never been one of her talents, and-

“The hell are you doing?”

She turns and glares at him, dark brown pencil liner still in hand. “Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Last I checked we’re driving together, so-“

“Don’t mean you get to come in here and bother me. Not when I’m already-“

“Now I’m just more confused.”

She loves him, to the extent she’s capable of love, this tree of a man who does apparently own a solid-color button-down and they are both trying today and-

“Figure we’re just doin’ this once, so-“

“You know you don’t need that.”

“Perfectly aware, but… it’s an occasion, I thought-“

“Whatever you want.”

Which in that voice tends to mean he’s totally giving up, but-

“If you don’t think I look pretty, you could just say that.”

She is not changing her mind about the pink sleeveless dress – every stable surface of this house has seen proof she doesn’t belong in virginal white, not to mention her bein’ on the other side of forty – but maybe almost-matching lipstick is a bad idea or-

“You look fine.”

“I do not want to look fine, I want-“

“You’re overthinking this.”

“In an hour I am going to-“

“Do you still want to-“

“I would not be trying to stab my goddamn eye with a mascara wand if I didn’t want to marry you,” Tess hisses. “Now go… I don’t know…”

“Nah. Keeping an eye on you so you don’t bug out and-“

She takes a couple steps closer and takes a long deep kiss, just enough to get him breathless. “You wanna help?”

“That a good idea?”

“Probably not, but…”

(He does fix a few hairpins. This is what tall guys are for.)

[what-would-have-happened]

Fanfiction Masterlist Post!

Longfics first, then oneshots, split into fandoms; I’ll post everything I’ve written here that I think is worth sharing. If a fic’s got a main ship, I’ll put it in italics next to the summary, as well as any other note. All fic titles are links.

My Hero Academia Fanfics

Unicorn Tuesday: In which Himiko is adopted by the Iidas, Hitoshi is best friends with an amnesiac Dabi, Katsuki has magic powers, Shouto and Zuko bodyswap every Tuesday, and Denki is dEfInItELy nOT the UA traitor. Yes, this is an ATLA crossover.

in another life: In which Katsuki is quirkless (mostly), Izuku has an Erasure quirk (not really), Fumikage has One for All (halfway), Monoma is a Todoroki (he isn’t) and Tenya and Denki will have to fight for a happy ending. Iida/Kaminari

box: Enji and Rei are villains. Everything changes. Toga/Todoroki, Nejire/Tamaki

we make our own luck: Endeavor and Izuku get cloned, unfortunately for literally everyone.

what would have happened: In which Bakugou and a Todoroki Nomu time travel, Touya runs away with his brothers and adopts Eri and Shinsou, multiple people are not quite villains (but not quite heroes either), Eraserhead has no idea what's going on, the LoV arrests an army, and Natsuo is the only person with any amount of common sense. Shigaraki/Natsuo

until it breaks: MHA actor AU.

six miles: Autopotency: a system, having complete knowledge and power over itself. Katsuki and Touya don’t have the knowledge, exactly, but they’re trying their best with what they have. For one, the power’s a terrible blessing; for the other, it’s a magnificent curse. Or: the disastrous life of bakugou k. (ft touya)

anachronism: Shirakumo can time travel, and so knows when he will die; isn't it odd, that Kurogiri's here? The Todorokis are immortal, and so can't stay dead; isn't it odd, that Touya's gone? Even in a world of quirks, there are anachronisms. This story's about a few of them. Ashido/Sero

hey, brother: There is no such person as Todoroki Shouto; instead, Natsuo has an extremely peculiar quirk. It’s kind of a problem for everyone. Jirou/Toga

Natsuo’s Foolproof Plan to Kidnap Shigaraki Tomura: You know the trope where Shigaraki kidnaps Natsuo to be the League’s medic? This is not that. Shigaraki/Natsuo

the krytos trap: In which Class 1A produces a soap opera. Todoroki/Midoriya

the rest of us just live here: DnD world fantasy AU centered around the Todoroki family. Fuyumi/Ryukuyu

after the end of the world: Modern AU where there are no quirks, villains, or heroes, but everyone plays soccer. There are also soulmates and dimension travel. Shigaraki/Natsuo

Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfics

falling stars, fading scars: Edward and Alphonse, of the year 1917, time travel to when Mustang was fifteen—1895. This has consequences, to say the least.

bother, I left my torch in narnia: It's been twenty years since Ed and Al were stranded on this side of the Gate. Now, with a World War brewing on the horizon, they live a mostly-quiet life in rural England with their friend Alfons. However, things start to get very confusing when Ed, Al, and Alfons take in some evacuee kids from London, and they discover a mysterious portal in Al's old armor...Ed just wants to get the Pevensies home safe, but it seems that Narnia has other plans. Featuring Lion Jesus, dimensional shenanigans, and an unexpected encounter with an old friend. Co-written with @fiddlysticks

the courtship of rebecca catalina: In which Jean Havoc finds a Philosopher's Stone, goes ghost hunting, fights a homunculus, impersonates the Flame Alchemist, prevents the apocalypse, attempts to parent the Elrics, and wins Rebecca's heart--not necessarily in that order. Jean Havoc/Rebecca Catalina

katana: In which Roy Mustang attempts to find the missing Katana Fleet, the Elrics sign up to find it too, a secret organization of Sith is stirring from the shadows, and some Jedi still remain. And Al definitely isn't hiding a big secret. Nope. Star Wars AU.

what doesn’t kill you: What with serial killers, government plots, homunculi, Philosopher's Stones and murderous emperors of Xing all causing trouble, Ed and Al find that getting their bodies back has become significantly harder--and hiding the fact that they lost them in the first place near impossible. But they'll manage it--they've got an entire galaxy counting on them, after all. Mei Chang/Alphonse Elric. Science Fiction AU.

five knives: In which Ed and Al are Ishvalan on their mother's side, immortal on their father's side, Mustang doesn't deserve this amount of Elric Rubbish, soulmarks exist only to cause pain, and the universe is nearly devoured by eldritch tentacles. Mei Chang/Alphonse Elric

we are more than we are (we are one): On a dark and stormy night, three things go terribly wrong. The first: that Ed and Al attempt human transmutation, and pay a toll for crossing the Gate. (I know, you knew that already) The second: that there is no suit of armour in the room. (I know, you've seen this one before) The third: that Winry is nearby, and intervenes. (two become one, become three)

everything is fricked (there are seven Edward Elrics): In which Alphonse gets his body back far earlier than in canon, the Stop-The-Amestris-Death-Circle team does their best, Scieska's conspiracy theories turn out to be true, and Mustang becomes increasingly uncertain of the number of Edward Elrics in the world.

the inevitable fourteenth: On your fourteenth birthday, you swap bodies with your soulmate. This is interesting, to say the least, for Alphonse and Mei. It's a downright disaster for Lust and Havoc. Mei Chang/Alphonse Elric, Lust/Jean Havoc (once I finish writing the second chapter at least)

Avatar: the Last Airbender

not this time: In which Zuko realizes what's wrong with the Fire Nation and becomes the Blue Spirit three years early, Sokka is probably not an earthbender, both boys cause incredible amounts of concern and confusion to their parental figures, soulmarks are a thing, Azula steals her brother's redemption arc, and Captain Rei did not sign up for this. Zuko/Sokka

Yep, just one ATLA fic lol

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

Fic Masterlist

Figured I should finally write a masterlist of my fics

General A Round of Shots - Rated T - Written for The Three Broomsticks Servers 10 Days of Drabbles challenge.

Sharing Firewhiskey - Rated G - After James' birth, Arthur shares advice and Firewhiskey with his son-in-law

The Truth - Rated G - The Tonks family with a side of Tedromeda and Remadora. Tonks ends up at her parents' the morning after the Department of Mysteries and there's some things she needs to fill them in about.

Winter Sun - Rated G - Drabbles for the Harry POCter Winter Sun Drabble Fest

--

Ted x Andromeda I have been thinking about these two for literally years, and I'm so happy that the obsession finally kicked in and I've been able to write their story.

I've always loved the idea that their relationship started when they were older. It gives them a bit more maturity and makes them a little less Romeo & Juliet

A Hard Day's Night - Rated T - Their first meeting.

Temptation - Rated M - Ted is falling hard, and it doesn't help that Andromeda has shown up at work drinks looking like that

Breaking the Rules - Rated T - A small moment between Andromeda and Ted at work drinks one night

Missing This - Rated T - Andromeda gets drunk and comes close to admitting what her future holds to Ted.

Giving In - Rated M - A look into their first time, when Andromeda gets exactly what she wants, and Ted can hardly believe his luck.

Not Tonight - Rated M - It's the St Mungo's Christmas Do, and Andromeda can't stop thinking of a night that happened the week before.

Leaving - Rated G - The time has come for Andromeda to leave her family behind.

A Bit of Fun - Rated M - This is probably my favourite fic I've written so far. A moment between Ted and Andromeda, early on in their relationship when they're both denying their feelings and making stupid decisions.

Desperation - Rated E - When Andromeda finally gets the news that she's been dreading for nearly two years, there's only one person she wants to see (My first attempt at smut)

The Hard Choice - Rated T - Fifteen days after Andromeda's engagement, Ted has something he needs to say.

Grief - Rated T - An exploration into Andromeda's grief after the war.

--

Lily x James Decisions - Rated T - After a close call, Lily and James have a discussion that will change their lives.

--

Katie x Oliver These two were my first HP OTP. I do have plans for more stories with them that hopefully I'll write in 2023.

Rubs and Disappointments - Rated T - After Harry's fall during the Hufflepuff match, Katie goes to check that Oliver wasn't actually drowning himself in the showers.

Auld Lang Syne - Rated M - Katie wakes up, hungover, not entirely sure of what happened the day before, and gets a shock when she works out whose flat she's in.

--

Harry x Ginny Something Bad - Rated M - Harry is a good dad, and he has a hot wife.

How Lily Luna Got Her Name - Rated T - Did you know that in the Coven of Haileybury, if a witch saved your life you were honour bound to name your first born daughter after her?

--

Ron x Hermione I love these two so much, I hope to write more for them in the future.

Snow on the Beach - Rated T - Written for the TTB 2022 Yule Bash fest. Ron spends Christmas in Australia with Hermione and her family.

Not So Bad - Rated G - Ron wakes up one morning in the Hospital Wing after being poisoned in HBP to find Hermione curled up in a chair beside him.

--

Remus x Tonks Remadora Ficlets - Rated M - Occasionally a scene featuring Remus and Tonks gets stuck in my head and bugs me until I write it down.

Advice - Rated G - Ted has some words of advice for Remus before he is forced to go on the run.

--

Next Gen I swear there is so much more Next Gen planned! I will write it one day.

Mischief Managed - Rated G - (Lily Luna & James Sirius) - Lily is a typical little sister and decides that it's time for the map to find a new owner.

When Pain is Over - Rated G - (Lily Luna & Ginny Weasley) - Lily learns a bit more about what her mum went through during the war.

The Potter-Granger-Weasley Pool Party Extravaganza - Rated T - (Lily Luna, Roxanne Weasley, Hugo Granger Weasley, Lucy Weasley) - When four cousins are left alone for the weekend, they decide to throw the party of the summer. It would have all gone to plan, if boys weren't dumb and if their parents didn't have such bad luck at camping.

She Was Not Wise Yet - Rated G - (Lily Luna/Male OC) - Ten years after leaving school, Lily runs into someone that she never thought she would see again.

[hey-michael-young-history]

like imange Kuai liang haveing a pet dragon as a young child how would the other lin kuei react plus his father ❤️

Sorry this took so long! But I think it’s worth the wait ^_^

“Whooooooa!”

“A dragon!?”

“Tundra, is this yours?”

Vixen sighed in relief. Her sons’ friends - really, her sons - had arrived on time. The hours she spent making breakfast would not be wasted.

“I never got a pet,” Bi-Han grumbled as he set the table.

Her husband snorted at that. With his eyes still on his phone, checking his schedule for the day, he said, “I wouldn’t trust you with a pet now, brat.”

“He goes on one mission—”

“Hey Vortex,” Hydro said, exhaling smoke as he entered. Once he noticed Vixen, he quickly soaked his cigarette and crushed it. “Haha Tàitai, good morning.”

Before she could scold him, Cyrax and Sektor came in next. It was still difficult for her to think of them all as their code names. To her, they would always be Mitsunari, Felix, and Jing.

“That dragon can’t be more than a year, right?” Cyrax asked, helping Bi-Han with the table. “I know Tundra is still pretty—”

“Is there fruit today?” Sektor asked.

“I saw some jujubes ripening out back, please go pick a few for us, Jing.”

Hydro shoved a piece of gum in his mouth and asked, “Jujubes are more interesting than the baby dragon, huh?”

“Who cares?” Sektor responded, walking back out. “My father has a whole stable.”

Must be nice to have a dad who can tame a dragon for you, Hydro mused. He sat next to Vortex, who pushed his mug over, without looking up. Hydro picked up the mug and filled it with boiling water. He stirred up the coffee grounds at the bottom before pushing it back. He smiled when Vortex’s heavy hand tossled his hair.

Smoke came in next, absolutely reeking of the outside air.

“Oh no, Tomas, you know the rules. Go wash up before you sit at the table,” Vixen scolded before the boy could sit down.

“But I was just playing with the dragon—”

“All the more reason to make sure your hands are nice and clean before you eat,” Vixen reasoned. “Don’t worry, I’m saving the fluffiest pancake for you.”

That admission raised grumbling accusations of favoritism from the other boys as Tomas smiled and went to the bathroom.

“Bi-Han, can you tell Kuai Liang that it’s time for breakfast?” Vixen asked, removing her apron.

“Why? He’s where he wants to be,” Bi-Han complained. “With his new best friend.”

“I’ll go so that Tundra’s old best friend doesn’t cry,” Vortex chuckled, setting his phone down.

He walked out to the back, where he could see Sektor in the distance, picking jujubes from a tree. He spotted Tundra closer to the house, in the enclosure that he and the boys built for the dragon he had brought home.

“Breakfast time, Tundra.”

The boy was facing away from him, watching his new friend sleep. “Yes, Father.”

“We can go back together,” Vortex prodded.

“Okay.”

Tundra stood and faced Vortex, half of his face covered in heavy bandages. Vortex didn’t allow his face to betray the guilt that poisoned him every time he saw it. Vixen had said that Tundra was too young to take missions, but he, Bi-Han, and Sub-Zero before them had all began taking assignments well before fifteen years old. It was bad luck that their Intel had been wrong and he came across the Black Dragon mercenaries, who were searching for the same artifact as he.

Seeing Tundra return with the dagger, so covered in blood that Vortex couldn’t figure out where he was bleeding from, produced a mixture of pride and panic that he’d never forget. The doctors said his eye would be fine but they couldn’t be certain of what exactly happened because the boy wouldn’t talk. For days after, he simply didn’t speak at all. Refused to leave his room, refused to turn off the lights. He didn’t engage with anyone other than Vixen until Vortex came home with a baby dragon from his father’s farm.

“She will be safe here,” Vortex promised.

“I will not let anyone hurt her.”

“I know,” Vortex responded. He extended his hand. “Let’s go eat.”

[aquiescentraconteur]

[Warning: I hate my next post.]

My best friend was, is, and will forever be my lifeline. She knows it, I know it, even you dear reader, know it at this point.  

I use her frequently: either for unsolicited advice at a particularly difficult time or to ramble about the most recent topic inside my head. From ice cream flavors that weird me out to human composition possessing stardust, we’ve done them all.

Together, we have developed a relationship that “goes both ways” - as she would put it. Good and bad, it’s always both ways with us. This unspoken rule has allowed our duo, throughout the years, to confide in each other without being afraid of judgment or criticism that makes the other person running for the hills. I have no problem exposing my soul to her, from the darkest thought I ever had to the worst cataclysmic feeling I experienced or my most dreadful act. She knows them all and she has shown me that, not only has she chosen to accept them, but she has also chose to love them.

That’s why when she tells me: “You need to stop, you’re halfway into a heartbreak already sweetie”, I listen. She protects me at all costs - bless her. I listen to her because she recognizes things even if I don’t, she sees stuff even if I can’t.

When the ball was in my court, and I first had to tell her this a few months back, I learned just how much it hurts to break your best friend’s heart.

That is how I know how gut-wrenching it is for her to tell me: “It’s not yours. It’s someone else’s.” I did it for her a long time ago and now, she’s doing it for me.

“You’re my person.” – we used to say to each other. And no, her boyfriend doesn’t mind, he has accepted the fact that I’ll forever be the ‘other guys’ he will have to compete with. To be “someone’s person” means she has the responsibility – as do I with her – to be the anxious cricket from Pinocchio. We swore to each other, years ago, that it doesn’t matter how hard it is, how difficult it becomes, we’ll always have each other’s backs. This means that whenever she sees me in trouble she’ll automatically tell me to “jump off”. It’s in her nature to get me out of complicated messes, to prevent me from getting hurt.

She had my back yesterday.

She played cricket last night, and she went to the bad side of “both ways”.

Now it’s time for me to also do as I promised and listen to that troubled cricket. The time has come for her best friend to do as she promised - on a wooden bench when they were fifteen - and listen.

By a twist of fate, after talking to her yesterday, I saw a comedy special [your girl really knows how to run the full spectrum of emotions in one night]. Needed to cheep up, honestly.

This genius guy said something like: “It’s not supposed to be hard; it’s supposed to be the easiest thing in the world. It’s supposed to be as easy as breathing, to be with the right person.”

If you take this and make it yours, you won’t be able to stand in a state of uncertainty, in limbo. You’ll want to jump off while it’s still time, and not because you’re not momentarily happy, but because you know that that happiness has an expiration date.

I realized this yesterday.

My current happiness has an expiration date.

I’ve been enjoying something that is not mine to enjoy in the long run, I have to let it go.

“It’s someone else’s.” - this is what I’ll hold onto.

I’m going to try and override emotion with reason. Wish me luck.