#these are very silly thoughts i know i wouldn’t win and i know i couldn’t single handedly lobby for health care idk i just want to not

[bongjuiceconcentrate]

thinking. of. when i am less poor. getting 2-3 lotto tickets. and losing.

[wonderthor]

your neighbor sukuna who lives in one of the apartments upstairs may be a rough and dangerous man, but he’s funny and nice to you, so you become friends anyway. you even develop a little crush on him, and when he calls you little pet names like sweetheart and doll, you start to think he might like you too. one night you decide to go out for drinks, and as he drinks more he lets out more about his past and you learn he is a little more dangerous than you thought. he talks about how he broke into people’s houses at night all the time to steal their things and when he finally did get caught and locked up, he had probably broke into over 200 people’s houses by then.

“that’s crazy, but you wouldn’t get that lucky with me though”

he sets his beer down, raising his eyebrow at you in question.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that im a very light sleeper, always have been. and there’s no way you couldn’t break into my apartment without me knowing it.”

he picks his beer back up and takes a swig before looking back at you with a smirk.

“you sure about that?”

you confidentially smirk back at him.

“oh absolutely. i get woken up if the wind blows a little too hard against the window. i even woke up that one time i had a mouse in my apartment and i could hear it scurrying across the floor. i would definitely hear you open my door and walk around.”

sukuna taps his fingers against the bar counter with his head in his hands and his eyes still on you, thinking.

“how about we make a bet.”

“a bet? on what?”

“if i can get into your locked apartment and into your bedroom without waking you up, i win. if i do, you win.”

“and what do i get when i win?”

sukuna chuckles at that, almost like a villain’s laugh.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“oh please, you sound way to confident in your impossible chance at winning.”

he laughs at you again.

“i am. there’s a reason i was able to break in so many people’s houses while they were still in there without getting caught. it’s kind of my specialty.”

you take another sip of your drink and lean back.

“your specialty, huh? and you still haven’t mentioned what we get if we win.”

“what do you want?”

his tone caught you off guard for a second, getting deeper and more serious without you expecting it.

“u-um, i don’t know. you can pick.”

he smiles at you again, a devious smile this time as he leans in closer to you.

“if i win, i get to do whatever i want to you. if you win, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

time stops for a minute and you don’t realize that you’re just staring at him until after several seconds.

“what do you m-mean by that?”

he leans back to hold his beer and his playful demeanor is back.

“well according to you, you won’t have to worry about that, right?”

a couple of days went by and you were still on edge. you mentally slept with your eyes open and even kept your bedroom door cracked, just in case you really couldn’t hear him come in. even though you knew it was just a bet and a silly little game, you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding against your chest. maybe because you still didn’t really know what he said meant. and there was also the eerie feeling that you were essentially waiting for him to break into your apartment, like a real robber. like the robber he used to be. and even though you knew he wasn’t dangerous to you and wouldn’t hurt you, you were still admittedly a little scared. you truly didn’t know what to expect.

it had been a couple of weeks now and you were sure sukuna was fucking with you. whenever you saw him in passing, he was his normal playful and flirty self, and mentioning nothing of the bet. you were starting to think he was kidding, just making that up to scare you and mess with you. or you also thought he could have just forgotten, since he was drinking a little and couldn’t have forgotten all about it.

but little did you know that you were playing right into his hands. he was waiting on you to lose your edge, to slowly get comfortable enough again to slip into deep and dream-filled sleeps. that’s why you didn’t expect it, why you didn’t expect to lose.

when you woke up one night, you felt your heart fall out of your body and your eyes almost jump from their sockets. there he was, in your apartment, in your bedroom, on your bed, leaning over you on his hands and knees. when he saw that you were awake and too stunned to speak, he smirked and leaned in closer to you until his face was just inches from yours.

“guess i win, sweetheart.”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hero x villaim but hit them with the "with everybody watching us, our every move, we each have reputation" (NOT A WRITING REQ UNLESS U WANNA DO IT !!!! just a silly thought I'd share bc . theyre so doomed) :3 -🐏

“You’re upset with me.” The villain chose their words carefully. In a situation like this, it wouldn’t be smart to let their emotional side win over.

“I am. I am very upset with you,” the hero said. They still looked terrible from the fight. Scratches and bruises covered their face as if the hero was the night sky and their wounds the stars. Even though the villain knew not to rush into things, they only wished to tend to the hero’s wounds.

“You know I couldn’t let you die.”

“I begged you to save those people instead of me,” the hero argued.

“It sounds horrible but I didn’t care about these people. My decision was made in an instant. I decided to save you, I decided to reach for you without even considering.” The villain wanted to explain it, wanted to make sure the hero understood. It had been an easy decision. It was cruel but it was the truth.

And now, the hero was starting to cry.

“I asked you to save these innocent people. These ten innocent people that had lives and families and jobs. These people who were important, who were someone’s entire world. Ten of them!” they choked out between sobs.

“You will save more people in the future than all of them would have combined,” the villain tried to argue but they knew, deep down they knew, how their weakness of logic and reason got in their way. They couldn’t help but see the world as patterns and effects. With explanations and conclusions weaving around them — a big terrible net of information.

They knew it wasn’t what the hero wanted nor what they needed to hear but the villain couldn’t give them what they deserved, they couldn’t find the comforting words.

They couldn’t even find a solution this time.

“That’s not the point. People aren’t numbers. People aren’t data,” the hero said. By now, tears streamed down their face and the villain wondered if they’d let them brush those tears away for them. Probably not. “I wanted you to save them. I wanted you to do the right thing.”

“The right thing was saving you. I’d do it all over again.”

“I thought you could change.”

“I thought you’d understand.” The hero shook their head and wiped their tears away with a bruised and swollen hand. A mission going south. Partly because the villain had been present. It wasn’t easy to take the blame but the villain supposed this was the least they could do if finding the right words was impossible already.

“People are chess pieces to you. You move them around how you want and you don’t care. You truly don’t care what happens to any of them,” the hero said. The villain could see their red ears and their shaking hands. And in this very moment, the villain saw themselves as the monster that they were, as the horrible human being the hero saw them as.

“I care about you, isn’t that clear enough?” they asked. The villain’s voice was shaking.

The hero took in a deep breath. The villain wanted to hug them. They wished their hero could understand. They wished they’d stop crying.

It hurt that the hero hated them in this moment.

“You’re supposed to care about others, too. You’re — you’re supposed to use your intelligence for the greater good. For other people, for humanity. I thought you understood me.”

“I do,” the villain said. “I do understand you. But in that moment, deciding between you and those people was easy. I’m sorry.”

The hero stared at them, speechless.

“You will always be my priority,” the villain said. “Even if you hate me. Even if you kill me eventually. I won’t put up a fight.”

“Do you like being hated?”

“I like you more than I care about being liked,” the villain said. They weren’t sure if they’d ever see the hero again after this.

“And I loathe you for that. I loathe you for the person that you are.”

They didn’t see each other for a long time after that conversation.

[storiesfromafan]

Hey, okay?

I wanted to ask Mattheo Riddle for something cute, where maybe the reader is very insecure about her body, especially her thighs and breasts....

maybe where the reader has a super nice body and such, but in her eyes, her body is super weird.... she thinks her thighs are too thick, and her breasts are big and she doesn't like that...

Thanks!!

A/N: I loved this idea!! I just hope this good enough haha. Been working on in since I got your request. I'm sorry if it's not that good, I did have a little trouble getting it out of my head in the best words 😅

Why Me?

Every time you look in a mirror you ask yourself; why does Mattheo Riddle like me? What is it about me that made him ask me out? Or made him want me as his girlfriend? In your eyes you weren’t that special. You got decent grades. Weren’t that sporty. You thought your looks were average, with (E/C) eyes that were a nice dark shade. (H/C) (H/L) hair that was always maintained and presentable. But then we get to your body. You didn’t think you were fat. Just average size. Though there were parts of your body that stuck out more to you. You didn’t have a thigh gap like the girls that you share your room with. Your thighs just touching. Not to mention you thought they were maybe too thick. While the other girls in your room had slimmer thighs.

Next it was your breast. Compared to the girls around you, they were larger. To you they were too big. You couldn’t wear tops like the girls with smaller chests. And if you did you had to go up a size, just to feel comfortable with your larger chest. But then it’s to lose in the waist. You couldn’t win. Why couldn’t you be like the other petite girls? Why was your genetics cruel to you?

You thought that as you stared at your reflection in your dorm rooms full length mirror. You were getting ready for a day trip to Hogsmeade with Mattheo and your friends. You’d had picked some jeans, which had highlighted your thoughts on your thighs. And had changed your top three times, because you didn’t like how obvious your assets were in them.

“He’ll like you in whatever you wear!” Pansy Parkinson laughed, thinking it was trying to look good for your boyfriend and not your insecurities.

You shot her a silly smile, hoping it hid the embarrassment of your friend watching you get ready. You didn’t think she or anyone else was paying you any attention. Pansy came up and placed a hand on your shoulder, a warm smile on her face.

“Wear the (colour/pattern) turtleneck with that black corduroy skirt of yours, the one with the buttons down the front” Pansy suggested. “You can borrow a pair of my black thigh high socks. Mattheo will love it!”

Hearing Pansy’s offer to lend you the thigh high socks triggered some panic in you. You couldn’t wear them. You’d either stretch them out, and all will know how big your thighs are. Or they wouldn’t fit, showing all the truth.

“Ah thanks Pans” you started with a touch of panic. “I will wear black stockings. More warmer”.

She laughed. “But they aren’t very practical. At least with the thigh highs they’re easy access”.

You blushed at her words. Yet she wasn’t wrong. But you couldn’t risk the truth getting out. With a shaky laugh you told her you’d stick with the stockings. Pansy didn’t say anything after that, grabbed her jacket and headed to the common room, along with the other girls of the room. Once alone you moved to change into your outfit, before grabbing your coat and leaving to meet your boyfriend and friends. “(Y/N/N) is so cute! She kept changing her outfit to find something cute to wear today” you heard Pansy giggle to Mattheo, as you approached your group.

Hearing her words made you want to crawl under a rock. Sure, you wanted to look good for your boyfriend, and yourself. But they didn’t know the thoughts and feelings you had for your body. You don’t know if you could tell them, ever. Would they understand? Would shedding light on your imperfections pull back the veil for them to really see them? Would they find it gross or dislike you for them?

Pansy’s eyes landed on you and a smile formed on her lips. Seeing the Slytherin girls’ attention was elsewhere, Mattheo turned around and laid his chocolate brown orbs on you. The warmest of smiles forming on his sinful lips, his smile reaching his eyes as he looked at you. You felt your cheeks warm from his attention. But then that voice in the back of your head piped up; you’re nothing special. He could do better then you…

Standing next to Mattheo, you felt unworthy of being here with him. But as soon as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and placed a kiss to your cheek, it gave some reassurance.

“Hello love” he whispered in your ear, just for you, only for you. His words giving you butterflies.

“H-hello” you stutter out. “Sorry for keeping you waiting”. Mattheo gave you another warm smile of his, “it’s alright, happy to wait”. And then he gave you a wink.

Once everyone was there you all headed out to Hogsmeade for the day. You enjoyed the walk to the small town. The whole way Mattheo held your hand, or he had you link arms. Either way he wanted you close.

Upon arriving, you all went to Honeydukes. It was one of the most popular places in the town, next being The Three Broomsticks. Entering Honeydukes, Mattheo holding the door open for you, always a gentleman, you were greeting to a warm and sweet-smelling atmosphere. You and Mattheo walked around the shop, laughing and smiling. You picked out some sweets to take back to school. And Mattheo did the same, he even brought you a few extras of your favourite chocolates.

Exiting the shop, you both walked past the shops window, looking at the display. Your face fell as you looked at yourself. Why did you buy so many sweets (Y/N)? Want to get fat? Want your thighs to get thicker? Disgusting. The voice was back. You gripped the handle of the bag you’re holding tighter, contemplating if you should drop it or not.

A warm hand envelope your free hand, bringing your eyes to the reflection of your boyfriend. The warm smile upon his face sent the voice back to the dark corner of your mind. You returned his smile before he dragged you off to The Three Broomsticks. Upon entering the cosy pub, you both removed your coats. Mattheo took your coat and said he’d hang them both up while you get a table. You found a free table in the back corner. Soon Mattheo joined you with a couple of butterbeers.

“Thank you” you said warmly, before taking a sip.

Mattheo took the seat next to you and proceeded to take a drink from his own glass mug. You both smiled at the other, Mattheo then chuckled before moving his hand in and whipped some of the froth from your top lip. You laughed sheepishly, feeling a blush rise on your cheeks. He always found you cute when embarrassed and couldn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky with you. For some time, it was just the both of you, cosy together drinking and chatting. But soon Pansy, Draco and Blaise joined the both of you.

More drinking and chats took place, followed with laughter when something funny was said or someone was made the joke. You always enjoy these moments; this atmosphere was what made school bearable. Eventually you excused yourself to use the bathroom. And upon returning to the table, you found Blaise in your spot.

“Come here love” Mattheo said after noticing your lack of spot. “You can sit on my lap” he smiled.

With those words panic set in. You sitting on Mattheo’s lap. That is not good. The voice returned, taunting you. Telling you how heavy you were. How he would find out how fat your thighs are. How disgusted he would be with you. You stood there looking at your boyfriend, heart racing. Sensing something wasn’t right, Mattheo gave you a comforting smile while taking a hold of your hand. He proceeded to slowly draw you close to him, before bringing you to sit on his lap.

You didn’t lean back into your boyfriend, nor did you let your whole weight on to him. Mattheo didn’t seem to notice how you were sitting. He just moved his left arm to wrap around your waist, while resting his chin on your right shoulder as he listened to Pansy and Draco. He was so comfortable with you on his lap. You on the other hand were being careful. And when his left hand would caress your thigh you stiffened, heart jumping into your throat. Surely any minute he would make a comment or push you away. But he didn’t.

Every moment was torture. The voice in your head saying cruel things. Eventually it got too much for you. Getting up abruptly from Mattheo’s lap you excused yourself, making up an excuse to get out of there and back to the castle, and your dorm room. Not waiting for a response, you grabbed your coat before leaving The Three Broomsticks. Mattheo and your three friends sat there confused and a little worried.

You hated leaving like you did. But it was becoming too much. The voice continuing to put you down. You were on the walk back to the castle, not far from the turn off that would take you to the Forbidden Forest, when a hand grabbed your arm pulling you to a stop.

“Bloody hell love!” Sighed Mattheo, “I’ve been calling your name for ages!”

You kept your eyes on the ground, “sorry. Didn’t hear you…” you said softly.

He let go of your arm and ran his hand through his curly brown locks. “Did I do something? Please tell me if I did, because I didn’t mean to” he said with concern.

You shook your head. “No Theo, you didn’t do anything”.

Mattheo stepped closer, bringing his hands up and cup your cheeks. He moved your head, so your eyes locked with his. “Then why did you run out of there like you did?” He asked softly.

“I-I” you stammered, unsure what to say. “I forgot about homework I have to do” you lied. Which Mattheo picked up on right away.

“Really love, what’s up?” He asked with worry.

At the moment a group of girls walked past the both of you. They giggled and said hello to Mattheo, who didn’t entirely give them his attention. He did return the hello, all the while focusing on you. You felt your heart warm seeing his eyes on you, and not once leaving you.

He is pitying you, the voice creeped from its dark corner of your mind. It’s only time before he realises the heifer he is dating, and will dump you for one of those girls…

Your heart sake from what the voice said. It was getting harder to ignore the voice or push it away. It made some sense to you. You did not understand why Mattheo was with you. Pulling yourself from him, you once again took off towards the castle. And Mattheo was right on your heels. He called your name, asked you what was wrong and talk to him. You hated ignoring him, but what could you say? You couldn’t tell him the dark truth, as he would see how crazy you were and possibly call you it too.

Once again Mattheo grabbed your arm, but this time he used apparition. Realising what had happened, you took in your new surroundings. Mattheo had brought you to the boathouse, which was quiet except for the water softly hitting against the building. You turned from where boats would be loaded into the water, and to your boyfriend, whom was watching you closely with concern.

“Love, no more running” he said softly, stepping towards you but stopped when he saw you stiffen. “Please tell me what’s going on?”

You released a shaky sigh. How could you admit to the gorgeous guy before you how fat you were. How disgusting your thighs are. How you weren’t like the other girls, and that made you feel like nothing. The dark voice taunted you right now, laughing at you for allowing yourself to get into this position, how Mattheo would once and for all see you for everything you are. You felt the heat and prick in your eyes, knowing tears were rising in them but you couldn’t let him see them. Only Mattheo was more observant than you thought. Before you could stop him, Mattheo had wrapped his arms around you, holding you close while whispering sweet words in your ear in hopes to comfort you.

“It’s alright” Mattheo cooed in your ear. “Please don’t cry love. I’m sorry if I have done or said anything to hurt you. I never want to hurt you or upset you”.

Hearing his words, his apology for nothing he had done, made those pesky tears fall from your eyes. You were the problem not him. Mattheo was sweet, kind, affectionate, caring, thoughtful and the list goes on! All the while you were disgusting, practically repulsive. He’d now finally see you for it after you let it out. For the word vomit was coming. And all because he was so worried and concerned for you.

You pulled away from Mattheo. “It’s not you, it’s me” you said trying to stay calm while whipping your eyes. “I’m the problem. Not you. You’re wonderful, perfect Theo. Me, I’m disgusting. I don’t get why me, why choose me!” Here it all came. “There are better looking girls you could be with. I’m average, but I have thick thighs, I’m fat and I don’t have the chest of other petite girls! I’m absolutely disgusting!”

By the time you got all your words out you were crying profusely, bordering on ugly crying, which you wanted to add to that list but couldn’t voice it. You covered your eyes and most of your face with your hands, not wanting to see Mattheo’s face or for him to see how terrible you looked. Suddenly you were pulled into a solid form, arms wrapping tightly around you, that familiar scent of cigarettes and mint hit you.

“You are not disgusting. You are not fat. You are the most beautiful girl with the most bewitching (E/C) eyes that hold me captive with one look. You have the perfect body, thighs included, that make me weak and lose all control, but I have to stop myself from grabbing you and holding you closely. I spend lessons next to you, telling myself to keep my hand from your thigh, as all I want to do is place my hand there and never let it go. I go crazy from having to behave in public love” Mattheo took a moment to take in a few shaky breathes. “It’s not only the physical side that I want either. You – (F/N) (L/N) – are sweet, generous, caring, kind, loving, gentle, intelligent, funny – just everything that makes you the best person I know, and love unconditionally. You are perfect for me. I want you because you are you, and because you make me want to be better, the best for you. I’m not worthy of you love!”

Slowly Mattheo words sunk in, slower than you wanted. The gorgeous male before you believed he wasn’t worthy of you. And he thought you were the best person. It couldn’t be true, surely. Mattheo moved back and pulled your hands from you face. He wiped the tears from your face, all the while looking at you with so much love. Finally, you heard his words, letting them sink in. Yet that dark voice began to speak up but you weren’t listening anymore. For your boyfriend’s words were true.

“(Y/N/N), you are perfect for me in every way".

That was it. That declaration was all you needed to send that dark voice to the deepest, darkest place of your mind, and for it to never return while Mattheo was around. Your boyfriend now knew of your insecurities and he would make sure to reassure you that you were beautiful, your body was perfect and you were worthy.

Without skipping a beat, you kissed your boyfriend, silently thanking him. Mattheo once again wrapped his arms around you and held you close, while you both shared a tender kiss. After the kiss you opened up to him more, he had asked you to without pushing and said to always talk to him when you needed. You agreed to come to him when you needed to talk. There would be no more secrets kept between you. And let’s just say he showed you and your body how much he loved you, all of you. 😉

A/N: I don't this it's as good as some of my other works, but I am content with it. Feel free to keep requesting. I've got a few now to do. But I'm having trouble logging into tumblr on my computer and app on my phone. Hopefully it gets sorted out soon.

[forever-rogue]

Hello beautiful! Huge fan of your work! I have an interesting request. Don't know if you know or remember that tik tok trend where the women got those leggings, the ones that enhanced the ~booty~ and I immediately thought of frankie morales. 👀 could you do an x reader fic about that? Can be smutty too iykyk 🫠🥰 xo

AN | Oh, trust me. I do know 😏

Pairing | Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Frankie, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

You weren’t sure if you were more amused or embarrassed by your latest little impulse purchase. Perhaps it wasn’t so much an impulse considering you’d gone back and forth on whether or not to buy damn the thing.

Those silly leggings that everyone was talking about. The very ones that proclaimed to enhance your butt and make it look incredibly enticing. 

And, as you laid in bed one evening unable to sleep, you came to the decision to buy them. What was the worst that could happen? You’d have a new pair of leggings. Which wouldn’t be too bad. At best you’d have an extremely luscious booty. You considered that a win-win.

And now they’d arrived, your little package just sitting on the front porch until you were able to get home from work. 

Frankie had beaten you home and had grabbed the package and set it on the table in the kitchen, sending you a quick text to let you know you’d received a package. If only he knew what was in store. Maybe. The jury was still out on that one. 

Once you’d gotten home, you were ready to grab the package and all but ran upstairs. 

“Hey baby,” Frankie’s voice cut through your internal monologue and stopped you with a sweet smile. Your face flushed with warmth as you smiled back at him. Your husband, ever so observant, noticed that something was on your mind, “what’s up?”

“Hey my love,” you stepped over to him and let him wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug. His arms might have been your favorite place in the entire world, strong and soft at the same time, holding you just perfectly. You buried your face in his chest, taking his familiar scent, all uniquely him, “missed you today.”

“I missed you too,” you could feel his chuckle reverberating throughout his chest, the sound familiar and always welcome. You looked up at him, finding those big, brown eyes watching you reverently. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips…and then you stole a few more, “alright, what’s up with you?”

“Can’t I just kiss my husband without any ulterior motives?” you teased, wishing that for once he couldn’t read you so easily, “nothing’s up, Francisco. You’re just really handsome and I am really lucky.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed in content as you carded a hand through his dark locks, lightly scratching at his scalp, “whatever you say, Abejita.”

“Exactly,” you grinned, “whatever I say goes. What do you wanna do for dinner?”

“How about we order in Thai?” he suggested and you perked up, stomach already growling. He heard it and laughed, a sound that went straight to your heart, “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll order if you want to go and change.”

“Perfect,” oh yes. This would give you the opportunity to try the leggings without him being too nosy, “just the usual please! I’ll be back in a few minutes!”

“You’re up to something!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you shouted as you bounded up the stairs taking them two at a time. 

Once you made it to your bedroom, you ducked into the en suite bathroom and ripped open the package. You were almost giddy as you ran your hands over the soft, buttery fabric. You undid your pants and almost kicked them off in excitement before pulling on the leggings.

They did feel nice on your skin, and you turned to study yourself in the mirror. You posed a few times, trying to take in all angles to see if the leggings did what they proclaimed to do. After a few moments of intense scrutiny you realized that you couldn’t quite tell. You like the way your butt looked, but honestly you liked it in most things, so you weren’t sure if the leggings actually did anything. That would be up to Frankie to decide when you wore them. 

You pulled them back off and stuck them in the laundry basket to be washed soon. You doubted that Frankie would notice anything new, especially an unassuming pair of black leggings. You pulled off the rest of your clothes and slipped some comfy loungewear before heading back downstairs. 

Frankie’s face lit up at the sight of you; he was practically the physical manifestation of heart eyes. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whispered shyly, “you’re gonna make me fall even more in love with you.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he grinned happily as you waved him off, “I mean it.”

“Even in my lazy, comfy clothes?”

“Even in your lazy comfy clothes,” he agreed, “always and in anything you could ever put on or without anything on.”

“You’re a fool, Morales.”

“A fool for you, Morales,” and you almost knocked him over with the sheer intensity of your hug. You really, really, loved this man.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

It was a few days before you managed to do laundry, and even longer until you finally grabbed the leggings. You’d almost forgotten about them at this point, but you had a day off and planned to do some stuff around the house, so you threw them on along with a t-shirt. Definitely not anything sexy or over the top, but comfortable. That’s what you were going for if you were going to be moving around. 

It wasn’t until that evening when you were making dinner that things got a little…interesting. Frankie had gotten home and had gone upstairs to clean up first, dirty and greasy (and very sexy in your humble opinion) and ever the gentleman with not wanting to get you dirty either. You were standing at the counter, chopping some vegetables for a salad when you heard him make his way back downstairs. 

“Hey honey,” you didn’t turn around just yet, instead focusing on the task at hand. When you heard nothing but silence, you assumed something was wrong. After wiping your hands on the tea towel you turned around to find him standing there with an expression of awe on his face, “Francisco? Is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he managed to choke out, nodding slightly, “you look…umm. Wow.”

“Just so you know wow can mean a multitude of things, and not always good,” you crossed your arms over your chest and watched his face flush a pretty shade of rose, “care to elaborate?”

“You’re so fucking hot,” was all he managed to choke, which caused you to break into a fit of giggles. Normally so eloquent but suddenly rendered speechless, “I-I mean, you’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful but today you also just look so…hot.”

“Ahh, well thank you,” you bounced over to him and pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek, “you look very hot yourself.”

“Are those new leggings?” he finally asked, eyes skimming down your body as he swallowed thickly, “they look nice.”

“Oh,” you looked down at yourself when it suddenly hit you that you were indeed wearing those leggings, “oh. Yeah, I am. You like them, Frankie?”

“I do,” he confessed, almost nervously as he tried to make sure he wasn’t saying the wrong thing. When he saw the coquettish grin on your face he knew that he’d said the right thing, “I really do.”

“Do they make my butt look good?” you turned around and lifted your t-shirt just enough to make sure he could get a full, long look at everything. 

“They sure do,” he rasped and before you could say or do anything else, you felt his hands on your hips and he pulled you into his body, “so good, you minx. You planned this didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied innocently, a small gasp escaping your lips as he slid his hands down to grab at your butt, “maybe you just really like my ass.”

“Hmm,” he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his warm, soft frame. You felt him drag his lips against your shoulder and up the side of your neck which caused you to sigh happily, “you’re so gorgeous.”

“Francisco,” you reached up and gently touched his cheek as he rested his chin on your shoulder. You loved him, you loved this, but you decided that you were going to mess with him just a little bit longer, “but I’m in the middle of making dinner so can you please control yourself for a bit?”

“Fuck,” he groaned as you slipped out of his grasp, moving to lean against the other side of the counter. You put the most innocent look you could muster up before turning back to the cutting board, “you’re killin’ me here, baby.”

“Aww, my love,” you pretended to give him a pout and he playfully held up his middle before putting on a puppy dog face of his own, “can’t control your own horniness for a few minutes?”

“One - it’s going to be longer than a few minutes and two - can you blame me? Have you seen yourself?” he tried to reach over to touch you and shimmied out of his grasp as you held up the knife, “you’re brutal.” 

“I love you too,” you grabbed a piece of cucumber and gently shoved it in his mouth with a giggle before he could argue any further, “you know, if you help me finish dinner, we can eat sooner and that means we can-”

“Whatever you need,” he nodded eagerly, “I’ll help.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────

You made it a point to drop things or bend over as much as possible while the two of you made dinner. You could practically hear the small groans and sharp inhales that escaped his lips. Perhaps it was a little cruel, to taunt your poor husband like this, but you’d made it up to him later.

You also weren’t immune to the way he made it a point to siddle around you as much as possible, his hands just grazing over your body. You’d let him get away with it for now, just a little taste for what was to come.

“You’re eating so slowly,” Frankie pointed out as you chewed your bite a little bit longer before swallowing. Maybe you were, “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“It’s important to thoroughly chew your food before swallowing,” you shrugged innocently, “it can really help your digestion.”

“You. Are. A. Menace,” he insisted, scowling at his broccoli like it had wronged him in a manner most foul, “can’t believe you tricked me into marrying you.”

“That’s because you know I’m worth it.”

“Not right now,” he mumbled as you started laughing. You knew he was just playing but it was a little fun to get him all riled up. That was just one of the many wonderful parts of your relationship. You raised an eyebrow and he sighed dramatically, “fine! Even right now.”

“That’s what I thought,” you took one more bite before pushing away your plate and leaning back in your arm. Frankie’s eyes were quick to shoot over to you as he drank you up, “you know, I think I’m done eating.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm,” you grabbed your glass of wine and finished off before looking at him in what you hoped was a seductive look. Either way, it was your husband, he was a goner for you either way, “but…I’m still hungry.”

“Oh,” his pretty brown eyes widened. 

“Wanna help me out?” you stood up and held your hand out towards him. He watched you in silent awe before nodding eagerly and taking your outstretched hand. Before you could lead to him towards the stairs, he pulled you towards him, crashing his lips on yours hungrily. He kissed you like his life depended on it, refusing to part from you until you were both dizzy and out of breath “I see you do wanna help me out.”

“As if that was ever a question,” he  stole a few more kisses, making sure to get a good feel of your ass before dragging you towards the living room.

“Frankie! Upstairs - bedroom,” you snickered but he shook his head, messy curls bouncing roguishly. 

“No time,” he insisted, his hands already dancing under the hem of your shirt, “need you now, baby.”

“You’re too much!” but you were putty in his hands anyway.

“But you love me.”

“But I love you,” you shrieked happily as he gently pushed you onto the couch, pinning you underneath him. His eyes were as hungry as you felt, “Frankie.”

“As much as I love you in these leggings,” he tugged on the waistband, his voice low and raspy, “they need to come off.”

“Yes, please.”

[kadextra]

Bad and Foolish are actually two sides of the same coin

it’s how foolish deals with bad’s pranks like it’s any other regular day, this is just the way they are, how they have been for years. it doesn’t matter if others don’t understand. like how foolish knew bad didn’t do anything to mr. mustard, just jumped on the bit of acting sus to mess with him

it’s how during the Slap competition they were on the exact same train of thought as the other - even with a huge block in communication (bad couldn’t hear foolish) bad still knew exactly what foolish was thinking. watching both POVs simultaneously was crazy bc some parts felt like actual conversation

They accurately psychoanalyzed each other many times too:

“I know foolish wouldn’t be happy winning this way.”

“I know bad is getting tired, he’s trying to distract himself.”

Not to mention how with zero communication, they mutually agreed on the rules for their game. And how the two are so very aware of how stubborn the other is, the battle legitimately would’ve kept going for hours if not for outside interference. Their combined power was too overwhelming and forced the server to be shut down to stop them.

all of this just shows how strong landduo’s friendship is, they are best friends. born from the old days when they’d spend hundreds of hours with idle chats and silly pranks in the desert, or sometimes becoming rocks- these two know each other’s quirks and behavior so well and their dynamic is fascinating

As a day 1 landduo enjoyer I’m so thankful they were invited to the qsmp together and others now get to experience their craziness <3

[dearsnow]

hi!! can i just request any two-bit fluff...like jus domestic warm fuzzy fluff ..maybe slight silliness...feel free to write whatever

AND YET

- you happen upon your very noisy “roommate” cooking away in the middle of the night (two-bit mathews x gn!reader, domestic fluff, lowkey so cute)

word count: 687

a/n - asther fulfilling a request??? within a reasonable time????? the world is turning upside down, y’all 🫡 i hope you enjoy 😭

“Keith, seriously?” Your voice is hoarse, a desperate whisper that borders on a shout. It is 2:42 AM, and your recently-moved-in, much-loved but forever annoying boyfriend is making a four course meal in your kitchen.

Surprisingly, this is the first time you have ever seen him cook more than microwaveable meals and the occasional pack of instant ramen. He looks up at you, clad in pajamas, fuzzy socks, and a shit-eating grin. “What, I was hungry!”

“You’re gonna be hungry when I kick you out.” You mutter. “Couldn’t you at least be quiet about it? I heard pots and pans and humming through our very thin bedroom walls.”

“You can’t kick me out, I’m too fun.” He smiles. He puts a lid on his pan of frying bacon and turns off the heat. “You love me. Admit it.”

You scoff, but when he takes your hands in his, your heart skips a beat.

“You looooooove meeeeee,” he sings, “c’mon, just say it.”

“I would love you so much more if you didn’t wake me up so early on a work day.” You say, trying desperately to hide the fact that the corners of your mouth are turning up. Like always, though, somehow he notices. It’s like every almost-smile from you is a win, one more thing to keep him going before he runs out of energy and crashes into bed, legs entwined with yours and mouth slightly open.

He spins you around, still humming a song you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It wouldn’t surprise you if he had just made it up. “I love you, and you love me. That’s why you’re dancing instead of yelling.” You laugh. You’re supposed to be angry with him, but the tension between your eyebrows dissipates when you look at his smiling face. If Two-Bit had just one talent, it would be switching your mood to happy. No matter what, no matter how annoying he is sometimes, you’re happiest when you’re with him.

“Yeah, I love you,” you gasp as he dips you so close to the floor you can feel the cold tile sucking in your heat, “and I love that you can make me laugh,” he pulls you back up, “but really, what are you doing making all this food at such an ungodly hour?”

He wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head against your neck. He leads you in a few steps, his warmth smoothing the goosebumps on your arms. “I wanted to do something nice for once. You’re always making me breakfast, and you leave earlier than me, so I thought I’d make a bit of food that you can just heat up when ‘m dead asleep.”

“Really?” You move back to stare at him, eyes soft in the dim kitchen lighting. “That’s… that’s really sweet, Two. Thank you.” If you were being honest, you thought he barely noticed you taking care of him in that way. You figured that it’s just something that comes with dating someone who seems like they could burn water.

“Nah, it’s nothin’.” He turns his head, a blush creeping up his neck towards the apples of his cheeks. “I just want you to know I appreciate what you do. This whole ‘me movin’ in’ thing put a whole lotta stress on your shoulders, so some domestic effort from me couldn’t hurt. I’ll at least try be quieter next time, though.” He raises his eyebrows and presses a quick kiss to the back of your hand. You can feel your own cheeks heating up. “I don’t want you ruining the surprise again, hm?”

“Yeah, it sounded like an elephant was training to be a chef in here.” You tease. He laughs, the sound ringing in your ears like a sweet bell. It’s a sound you don’t think you could ever get tired of.

He slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. He would drop anything to have you pressed against him at all hours of the day.

“And yet you still love me.”

You grin at him. “And yet, my love, I won’t ever stop.”

[jinkoh]

lip gloss

younghoon x fem!reader

summary: younghoon really likes your lip gloss. what he doesn't like is the silly bet his friends made about you...

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, secret relationship (kinda), fluff, a little jealousy, alternating povs, clothes sharing (v briefly), SFW

wordcount: ~4,8k

a/n: who would have thought i'm coming back after a writer's block with a completely new group--certainly not me lol 🤡 i have accidentally developed an obsession with the lip gloss mv and spent an ungodly amount of time watching it

this is my first time writing for tbz (and i also don't know them that well yet) so pls be kind 👉🏻👈🏻

also this fic is entirely to be blamed on @blizzardfluffykpop bc we came up with the idea together. thanks for brainrotting with me, kate ❤️

Masterlist

Younghoon liked his friends, he really did. It was just that at times he had to remind himself of the fact. Like now, when they were making yet another stupid bet among themselves, fueled as so often by the never ending quarrel between the beach volleyball players and the surfers. Younghoon wasn’t a surfer but neither did he play beach volleyball, except for the rare occasions when they were missing a man, so he usually got out of these antics fine without picking a side. Still, this time the guys were being too much. Younghoon had already turned to Sangyeon in hopes of ending this nonsense, but to his utter disappointment even Sangyeon was in on this, confidently nodding along that his team would win.

It wasn’t that Younghoon didn’t understand the temptation—who wouldn’t want an excuse to talk to you? You’d caught his attention too when he’d come to the beach a few days ago. It was starting to get hot, spring slowly turning into summer, and the owner of the little beach bar had decided it was time to kick off the season. Instead of him though, someone else was manning the bar. You had an arm propped up on the counter and mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Younghoon couldn’t blame you, the bar wasn’t usually busy until later so it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. Without paying it any mind, he jogged down the beach to the volleyball net where he knew to find the others, the girl from the bar quickly forgotten over a very imbalanced game. In fact he didn’t think of you again until he walked back to the bar to get some soda for everyone. There still weren’t any customers around, but instead of doom scrolling you’d taken out some lip gloss, using your phone’s camera as a mirror as you swiftly applied it to your lower lip. He felt he shouldn’t be watching this, but he also couldn’t look away. There was something so captivating about this scene. Just when you were smacking your lips together (twice) you seemed to have noticed his gaze. You looked up with surprise in your eyes before giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. What can I get you?” The gloss made your lips look shiny. Maybe he had already been a goner then.

So, it really wasn't that he didn't understand. But betting on who’d get your number first seemed a bit much and, frankly, kind of rude too. There was no stopping them though, but perhaps he could at least give you a little warning?

He got up from where everyone was sitting on the sand, just far enough from the shore to not get wet, and jogged back to the wooden path that led further up the beach and to the bar.

“Where are you going?” Eric yelled behind him. “Not getting a head start, are you?”

Younghoon huffed a laugh. “What makes you think I’d join a silly bet like that?”

Eric grinned. “Scared of even trying, huh?”

“Mhm, sure.”

With a shake of his head he walked the last few meters to the bar, where he sat down on one of the stools at the counter. Once more, it was empty despite being late at night, but he supposed not everyone had the freedom to come out here this late on a weekday.

“So,”  you turned to him with a mischievous grin, before he could even say anything. “What kind of bet were you talking about?”

He ran his hands through his hair. “You heard that?”

“Was hard not to.”

“I’m not sure you really want to know.”

“I don’t care either way. But you guys have been stealing glances at the bar this whole time—you better not do anything that will get me in trouble with the boss.”

“They wouldn’t,” Younghoon didn’t hesitate to reply. Sure, they were silly and stupid at times, but they wouldn’t put someone’s job on the line for funsies. “But they also weren’t exactly looking at the bar.”

“They weren’t, huh?” You grinned and Younghoon couldn’t help but notice the shimmer of your lip gloss.

“It’s your number,” he said, tearing his eyes away from your lips. “They want your number.”

You nodded slowly, looking more amused than offended. There was a challenging glint in your eyes. “So, you think getting my number is silly?”

The question caught him off guard so his reply came out a little too slow to be smooth. “No, that’s far from silly. Just betting on it is.”

“Hmm, how do I know you’re not secretly in on it though?”

“Why would I butcher my chances by telling you about the bet then?”

You leaned over the counter a bit, propping up your head with your closed hand. “Maybe this is your strategy to appear upright and honest?”

He stifled a laugh. “Well, I’m honest. I don’t know about the rest.”

 “Fair enough.”

Younghoon didn’t get your number that night, but neither did anyone else and that gave him a little satisfaction. He’d offered to try and talk them out of it again, but you’d declined. “No,” you’d said with a grin. “I wanna see them try. It sounds fun.” 

He thought he possibly liked more about you than just your lip gloss.

The guys went all out. Some attempts didn’t seem too bad while others gave him a strong sense of secondhand embarrassment. But you seemed to be having fun with it, so who was he to intervene? And maybe, just maybe, he liked the way you’d throw him knowing glances from time to time, sharing a secret only for the two of you to know.

Yet, he wondered if maybe one of them would manage to sway your heart—he’d seen Kevin steal you away during your break earlier, to take you to the wooden jump tower near the cliffs. He liked to boast about his diving, and from the way Younghoon could hear you laughing from afar you seemed to be having fun. He stalled for a moment, watching how you were sitting on the pier, your feet dangling in the water. When Kevin pushed himself up with his arms to get onto the pier next to you, you playfully shoved him back, making him go under with a splash. He was laughing when he came back up, and so were you. That was a good thing, right? You were having fun. You already knew the thing with the bet too, so if you liked Kevin in spite of that then who was Younghoon to interfere? Kevin was a good guy anyway, and bet or not he seemed genuinely interested. No, there shouldn’t be any problem.

And yet, Younghoon felt bitter about it, a greedy part of him wishing he could have that laugh all to himself.

“So, can I have your number? In case I need a buddy to go diving with again sometime?” Kevin grinned up at you from the water, brushing back his wet hair. It reminded you of Younghoon, the way he’d run his hand through his hair every few minutes, pushing it out of his forehead just for it to fall right back into place. Maybe you should buy him some bobby pins—probably not. After all, you liked when he did that.

“Is that smile a yes?” Kevin pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? Ah, sorry, left my phone at the bar,” you both knew it was just an excuse, but Kevin didn’t seem particularly offended. He swam over to the pier, resting his arms on the wooden board and propping up his chin.

“What has you so happy then?”

“Nothing much. Just a friend.”

“I can be a friend too,” he replied playfully. 

“Sure, friend,” you easily agreed, ignoring the flirty undertone that defeated the meaning of his words. Friends you could do.

To be honest, your expectations for this summer had been low. You didn't know anyone in this small town aside from your uncle and even though you had a good relationship with him, you could picture better ways to spend the hot season than helping out at his bar. To your surprise though, you were slowly starting to enjoy your time here. When you’d first heard of the bet it hadn’t left the best impression, but seeing them try so hard to impress you was a little cute and despite everything they seemed like sweet, genuine guys. And the fact that you knew about the bet made it pretty fun to watch the spectacle, even more so since you had someone to share mischievous smiles about it with. It felt like you were partners in crime, a secret friendship blooming between the two of you that had no real reason to be secret aside from the thrill of it all. 

You weren’t the fondest of riding the bicycle. In fact, back at home you didn’t even own one. You lived in the next bigger town and you got around just fine using public transport. That seemed unthinkable here though, with two buses running a day—one in the morning and one at night. So, if you didn’t want to walk everywhere, you had to make do with your cousin’s old bicycle that he’d used before he’d moved out for college. It was a little rattly but it was holding up pretty well—or at least that had been the case until today. You weren’t sure what exactly happened, but suddenly the counter pressure when pedaling had disappeared, and you’d almost fallen forward over the bicycle’s handlebars. Now you were standing at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, not even half way back to your uncle’s place with no reception and a chain that was just loosely hanging off the gears. It being night didn’t really help you to feel better about it all. While you knew it was probably safer here than in some street downtown that was bustling with drunk people, it still felt scarier, the tall trees along the road looming over you. Begrudgingly you pushed the bicycle forward, the lamp flickering weakly and barely doing anything to lighten up the path ahead.

In the distance, you heard the sound of an engine approaching, and the thought of coming across someone on this deserted street made your stomach churn with dread. A brief glance behind you told you it was a motorcycle, the headlight almost a little blinding in the darkness. Just before it went past you, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would go by fast. You wanted to let out a relieved breath once it did, but then you heard the motor stopping only a few meters ahead. Your eyes snapped open, panic rushing through your veins as you watched the driver get off. Your grip around the handle bars tightened, making your knuckles turn white. You made a point of not looking at the guy, even when he came closer, but then you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/n? You good?”

You raised your gaze in time to see him take off his helmet. He shook out his black hair before pushing it out of his forehead the way he always did.

“Younghoon.” Relief washed over you.

“Sorry, did I frighten you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“So, what happened?” He took an examining look at your bicycle. “Chain came off?”

You shrugged helplessly. “Whatever you say.”

He nodded slowly, running his hand through his hair once more. “I can fix that for you.”

“Really?”

“It’s pretty simple. But maybe something for daylight. Let me give you a ride home and we’ll come back for it tomorrow?”

You glanced over to the motorcycle that was waiting a little ahead and then back to Younghoon. Your expression must have been weary because he grinned. “Don’t worry I have a spare helmet. And I’m a safe driver too.”

“I wasn’t doubting you.”

“It’s fine if you were.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Mhm, sure,” he stepped a little closer, putting the helmet on for you and closing the fastener under your chin. Your breath caught when his fingers brushed against your skin, the feeling lingering despite the fleetingness of the touch. “Ready to go?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, trying to get a grip of yourself. “Just a—let me just—,” instead of finishing your sentence you just gestured towards your bicycle instead. He huffed a laugh and watched as you pushed it further to the side and leaned it against a tree in safe distance to the road. Once you’d locked it, you turned back around to Younghoon who was still looking at you. 

“Ready,” you croaked.

He smiled, and despite the darkness of the night you could see the small crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. “Good.” 

You walked the few meters to his bike in silence and you thought there was an odd tension there. Or maybe you were just nervous about the ride, you reasoned with yourself. He got out his spare helmet, pushing his hair out of his forehead once more before putting it on. With ease he swung his leg over the machine before patting the leather of the seat behind him. You got on too, certainly looking a lot less dignified than he did and shuffled back as far as you could to bring some distance between the two of you. Before starting the motor, he looked back at you once more. “Hold on tight.” Unsure what exactly to hold onto, you clung to the edges of the seat, your nails digging into the leather.

He didn’t drive too fast, surely out of consideration for you, but you still couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. When he hit a small bump in the road, you let out a shriek, your arms instinctively letting go of the seat to wrap around his waist instead. You held on tight, the distance you’d made sure of before completely forgotten. Once you’d recovered from the brief shock though, you wondered if this was okay or if you’d overstepped. But Younghoon didn’t say anything about it and you didn’t want to let go again, not when you felt so safe with your arms wrapped around him.

The ride was over way too quickly, and you almost wished you’d given him wrong directions when he stopped in front of your uncle’s house. Chances of him catching on would have probably been high though, considering he was from here while you were just here for the summer.

“Are you sure it’s this one?” Younghoon said, after he’d taken off his helmet, looking at the house questioningly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just didn’t know you were related to the owner.”

“He’s my uncle,” you explained matter of factly. “But how do you know he lives here?”

Younghoon chuckled. “This is a pretty small town, you know?”

“Right,” you nodded. You took your helmet off too, awkwardly holding it out for him to take. “So, uh, thanks for the ride.”

He tore his gaze away from the house to meet yours. “Was my pleasure.” There was that sweet smile again, making your heart melt. You smacked your lips together, the way you did when applying lipstick—a nervous habit of yours. His gaze flickered to the movement before wandering back up to your eyes. There was something there. He took a small step towards you, just a few inches but it felt like he was suddenly way up in your personal space. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn't move. Instead he just kept looking at you with an unreadable expression.

Unable to hold eye contact, you lowered your head, staring at your feet instead. “I should go inside then.”

“Mhm, you should. I’ll pick you up tomorrow? Is around noon good?”

“Pick me up?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Your bicycle, remember?”

“Oh, of course. Noon is good. Should I give you my number? Maybe you can text me fifteen minutes or so before you’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Not worried that this is all just part of my scheme to win the bet?” His voice was quiet and yet there was a cockiness to it that made your heart race.

"Shut up." It was a weak comeback, but it put a grin on Younghoon's face. His gaze dropped to your lips once more before coming back up.

"Make me."

Your eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by the bold implication of his words. You swallowed around the lump in your throat, your whole body was thrumming with nerves. Your gaze flickered to his lips. You inched closer. That's what he'd meant right? You wouldn't be overstepping if you kissed him now, right? You looked up into his eyes, just to be sure that you weren't misunderstanding things. But right when you did, he cupped your jaw with his hand, pulling you in until his lips crashed into yours. 

Kissing him felt so natural, it was as if all your secret smiles and shared grins had naturally led up to this moment. You kissed him until you felt breathless and even then you were reluctant to pull away. When you finally did, he didn't let you go too far, his thumb drawing patterns on your cheek and his eyes taking in every inch of your face.

"I think I should really go now," you eventually broke the silence when you couldn't endure it anymore.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Okay," you repeated. "I'll see you around noon."

Younghoon couldn’t stop himself from smiling on the whole ride home. You'd forgotten to give him your number, but he felt that it didn't really matter anymore. He could just ask you again tomorrow. After all, he'd gotten something way better tonight. He recalled the way your arms had held onto him tightly on the ride and your tousled hair after you’d taken off the helmet. Mostly, he recalled how warm your lips had felt against his. He couldn’t wait to see you again.

The chain was back on in a matter of seconds. Younghoon looked as if he’d done it a zillion times before.

“And you couldn’t have done that last night?” You asked from where you were standing next to him, watching as he wiped his fingers on a cloth. Nothing had happened since he'd picked you up and you'd driven back to your bicycle together. You almost wondered if it was all an odd fever dream and he didn’t actually kiss you.

“I did say it was easy," He admitted simply, "But it’s always better to check everything with proper lighting rather than letting you ride home on a potentially broken bicycle. Can’t risk you getting hurt, can we?" 

It was just common decency but somehow the way he said it, looking up at you with a cheeky grin, made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks flush. You avoided his gaze, your focus falling onto his jaw instead. “You have a little—” you motioned to your own face, trying to mirror where he’d stained his skin with grease just below the jaw line. He tried to wipe it away with the back of his hand, his grin traded for something more innocent. “There?”

The scene captivated you a little too much, thoughts of touching that jaw, of pulling him into a kiss circling your mind. In your daze, it took you a second to snap out of it. “Yeah,” you mumbled, not really paying attention. "There."

Younghoon thoroughly made sure the bicycle was safe to ride and only then started to pack up his tools. You watched as he diligently put them away. 

“How come you know how to do this?” you eventually broke the silence.

“What, putting a chain back on?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” he shrugged. “I like fixing things. And it comes in handy too, doesn’t it?” He said the last bit with a smile that you couldn’t help but return.

“Yeah, it does. Thanks again.” 

He got up and dusted off his pants. “It’s nothing. Call me if something happens again.”

“I will.” Your gaze followed him as he walked back to his bike, getting his helmet from where it hung off the handle bars. He didn't put it on just yet, taking a quick glance at the wing mirror first.

“You lied!” He complained in mocked offense, before turning back around to you. He wore a pout, his finger pointing at the grease stain that was still right there below his jaw line.

You giggled. “What can I say, I’m neither upright nor honest.”

Younghoon grinned and walked back over to you, his helmet still in his hand. "Is that so?" He asked as he stepped back into your personal space. You took a tiny step towards him too, closely watching his reaction. That grin was still there. With a racing heart you tugged the cloth out from where he had messily shoved it into his pocket. Then you reached up to his jaw, slowly wiping at the grease stain until it was gone. The whole time, Younghoon was watching you intently, your eyes, your nose your lips—

You lowered your hand when you were done, but he caught your wrist to stop you from going too far.

"Thanks." His voice was barely a whisper. Your eyes flickered to his mouth.

"You're welcome," you replied just as quietly, inching just the tiniest bit closer. You felt his breath on your skin and then his lips on yours, again and again and again.

Things between the two of you felt exciting and new and good—but there was also this looming uncertainty. Younghoon knew what it meant to him. But what about you? What was all this to you? Even though he didn't want to delude himself, he couldn't help hoping that this, that he was special to you. The secret smiles you exchanged started to feel a little different, like there was a little more. And there was: the two of you were texting a lot now that you'd exchanged numbers and you often came down to the beach earlier to hang out with him on the old lighthouse before your shift. You weren’t doing that for the other guys. Your gaze also didn't linger on them the way it did on him, no matter how much they pestered you. And of course you weren't kissing them either. That was, as far as he knew, reserved for him alone. That made it easy to endure when you were laughing and joking around with the guys. Except at times, you'd glance over to him with a cocky grin. Almost as if you wanted to make sure he was watching, as if you wanted to purposely rile him up. It made him want to walk over and kiss you right there in front of them, but you hadn't talked about these things yet and you seemed to enjoy the thrill of hide and seek. So, kissing was only allowed for when you were alone with no one to see.

Consequently he was keeping a low profile, sitting in the sand with some of the others and pretending not to watch from afar how Changmin and Juyeon were leaning on the counter, competing for your attention. Eventually he tore his gaze away to focus on the conversation in front of him instead, which only got interrupted when Jacob remarked that Changmin and Juyeon must have been unsuccessful, as they were coming back down to the beach. You on the other hand were not behind the bar anymore, a small sign indicating that it was closed for now. A feeling of worry started to spread in his guts. Did something happen? Did they make you feel uncomfortable? He knew his friends were good guys and wouldn’t ever intentionally do that, but just because it wasn't their intention didn't mean it couldn’t happen. Maybe it was nothing, but he just needed to make sure you were okay.

Without thinking further he got up from the sand, jogging past Changmin and Juyeon who looked at him in confusion, and up to the bar. You weren't anywhere to be found though, the little door locked and the space behind the counter empty. The other only place he could come up with was the lighthouse, so he made his way there, hurrying up the spiral staircase until he got to you, sitting in the middle of the steps and munching on a sandwich. You looked up at him in surprise as he stood before you, breathing a little heavy, but a smile spreading on his lips. He chuckled. He should have known he was worrying for nothing.

"You're on break?"

"Mhm," you nodded and scooted over a bit, making space for you to sit with him. "What's the hurry for?" 

There was a little sauce on your upper lip. He reached out to wipe it away and you simply let him.

"I don't know, I was wondering if you're fine."

"Why wouldn't I be?'

He shrugged. He didn't know either, after all you'd never been uncomfortable with the boys' advances. Maybe he was the only one who felt that way. 

You leaned in a little closer, bumping your shoulder against his with a cheeky grin. "Or were you maybe jealous?"

With a huffed laugh he met your gaze. "What if I was?"

He thought he saw your cheeks flush when you focused back on your sandwich. "Maybe I'd like that."

It was late, around midnight, and you listened to the sound of the waves as you sat side by side in the sand. The bar was still open, but your uncle had taken on the night shift, giving you the freedom to spend your time out here, away from people. You hear the music and laughter from afar and if you turned around you'd see the colorful string lights too, but you much preferred the view of the ocean in front of you. At least for now.

Younghoon was sitting close to you, his hand just barely touching yours. You wondered if he was cold in his white tee while you were all wrapped up in his cozy hoodie. You inched closer, intertwining your fingers and pulling his hand into your lap. Maybe you could at least keep his arm warm. He turned to look at you with a smile, before running his free hand through his hair.

"The boys would hate this," he said with a chuckle. 

"Would they really?" Your voice sounded more serious than intended. You knew it was just an offhand comment, but it made you wonder if that could be a dealbreaker for him. You knew he treasured his friends.

He considered for a moment. "Only if I'm not serious. They care about you, you know." 

"So, are you? Serious?"

"Yeah." He didn't shy away from your gaze. "I'm serious."

You squeezed his hand in yours and he squeezed right back and even though it was such a small gesture it gave you butterflies. He was serious about you, about this. With flushed cheeks and a smile tugging at your lips, you leaned your head against his shoulder. You sat like that for a while, back to listening to the waves.

"Maybe we should end their bet," you eventually mumbled. "Since they already lost." You could imagine the surprise on their face if you were to tell them.

"Mhm, we should," he rested his head against yours, "but not now. Let's stay here a little longer."

 "Yeah, let's."

"That actually makes so much sense," Eric exclaimed dramatically, after you'd told them a few days later. "How else would you have resisted my charm?" 

Changmin huffed a laugh. "Right, because you're so irresistible."

"Hey–"

"Anyway," Sangyeon interrupted, "that means the bet is off."

Sunwoo looked at him with a raised eyebrow, casually resting his arm on Younghoon's shoulder. "You're only saying that because you've lost. Younghoon is clearly on team beach volleyball. He just joined in on a game the other day."

Eric shook his head and formed an X with his arms. "Nope, no, he clearly said he wasn't joining."

Younghoon rolled his eyes at their antics, wondering if he should say something to make them shut up. But then he met your amused gaze and decided to leave it be. 

"What was the wager anyway?" You asked him quietly. 

Younghoon shrugged as he intertwined his fingers with yours. "I have no idea." 

You giggled. He liked the sound of it and the happy glint in your eyes. He also liked the shimmer of your lip gloss.

no tbz masterlist (edit: nvmnd here it is) but feel free to check out my other works if you liked this or leave a follow to keep up with future works~

[lovingperfectionsblog]

The Worst Date

Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader.

Summary: You and Bob have very different opinions of the date you went on. 

Warnings: None. 

Word count: 2252.

Authors note: I’m not super happy with this but here it is some little bit of writing because I was bored and I am gearing up to write an angsty piece so here’s something silly to begin with. 

_____

“How did it go?” Bob had barely stepped foot into the lecture venue before Nat was bombarding him with questions. 

Every eye in the room was now turned on him, desperately wanting to know how it had gone themselves. 

‘Too many people know my business’ Bob couldn't help but think, but at the same time, eternally grateful because if it wasn’t for the whole team, he would have never had the guts to ask you out, and subsequently had the best date he could have ever hoped for. 

Before he could even answer, his smile was betraying him and his entire team was cheering, “You asked her?” Fanboy excitedly asked. 

“Even better,” Bob felt a little smug as he took a seat next to his pilot, “we actually went out on the date.” 

“Already?” Hangman voiced the shock the entire group had simultaneously felt. A date? Already? They had just convinced the backseater to ask his best friend out on friday evening and he had already gone on the date by monday morning? 

“Already,” Bob nodded along, expressing that he was equally as surprised as everyone else, “and honestly,” he couldn’t help the blush that was spreading over his face, “it was the best date I had ever been on.” 

“Tell us everything Bobby Boy.” Payback knew that it wasn’t often Bob got the win, not for lack of trying either, but, the kindest member of this team always somehow seemed to be on the backfoot and honestly, he deserved to know how great he was, and he deserved this win, and despite a lot of the shit Bob got from the team, Payback knew each and everyone of them agreed. 

“Yeah, uhm, we went to that cute place down from the hard deck.” Bob began recounting the date before he was interrupted again by Hangman. 

“No Big Bob, from the beginning, we wanna hear how you asked her out and everything.” He would never admit that he was excited for Bob, but Hangman was, Bob deserved love, was one of the best out of all them and every second of this moment was making Hangman feel better and better about forcing himself into the situation after hearing him and Nat quietly discussing the longstanding crush Bob had on his best friend. 

After a beat, after Bob had come to the conclusion that his team, his friends, genuinely wanted to know how it all went, he began his story again. 

“Okay, so I took Hangman's advice and took a shot of whiskey on saturday night and gave her a call,” no one missed the smug look on Hangman's face, “and she answered and I panicked and before I even said hello I kind of just asked if she wanted to get something to eat with me.” That earned a chuckle from everyone, clearly being able to picture Bob blurting out the question with no skill or charm whatsoever. 

“She literally said yes immediately and asked if I was close by and so I just said yes and quickly got ready and went to pick her up.” Bob just shrugged despite the confused looks on everyone's faces. 

“So you just picked her up then and there?” Nat was confused, ready for a date that quickly? Something didn’t feel right. 

“Yeah, and god, she looked beautiful.” Bob could feel himself swooning as he remembered how stunning he thought you looked as you swung the door open to greet him. “And then we went and had a perfect evening and laughed and had good food and took a walk on the beach and it was just,” 

“You guys kiss?” Bob’s blush only got deeper and he just shook his head in response to Hangman’s question, “Okay, that's fine, there's always next time.” Hangman knew with you it was the slow game, similar to Bob, you were someone who took their time, not someone to fall for a good old pickup line and a little bit of cockiness, he knew all too well that you wouldn’t even bat an eye at something like that, he’d tried, and you’d shot him down not even a split second later and made your way over to Bob.

Before anyone could take the conversation any further, you casually strolled in, throwing a round of greetings to your fellow aviators and a small shy wave to Bob before taking the empty seat next to Hangman. You were completely oblivious to all the looks being shared between your team and it was only a matter of time before the inevitable, 

“So how was your weekend?” Nat asked, followed by a grunt from Bob kicking her under the table. No one wanted to outright ask how the date with Bob had gone because technically, none of them should even know, so this was the next best thing. 

The frown and pouted lips surprised them all, but nothing prepared them for how you summed your weekend up. 

“Honestly, it was okay, I went on possibly the worst date I have ever been on, so there's that.” Bob was going to throw up. You’d hated the date? He had the best date of his life and you’d hated the date? And you’d said it so casually in front of him. 

The entire room was filled with silence, and Bob wanted nothing more than to just escape. Quit the navy. Disappear. He could do that. He knew enough people back home that could make sure that could happen. Perks of growing up in Rural North America. 

The room was silent, Bob was bright red and everyone was avoiding eye contact with both of you. 

Except for of course Hangman, who had taken this as a personal affront. 

“What was wrong with the date?” He was looking you square in the eyes and was ready to fight on behalf of Bob if he was just going to sit there and let you be cruel in front of everyone. 

“Ugh, it was just, he was awful. Like, didn’t put any effort in to how he looked, didn’t know what to do, made me choose, like, I want a man who makes a choice you know? I don’t want to have to do everything for him.” Bob dropped his head, ready to cry from the shame. You hated the date. 

“Well, what the hell did you expect him to do? All things considering I think he did alright? What exactly were you expecting? For him to roll out the red carpet when you’d given him next to nothing to work with?” Hangman was pissed, you’d given Bob absolutely no time for anything and then had the audacity to rip him to shreds in front of everyone? No on his watch. 

“This your usual play then Hangman, considering how touched you’re getting about it?” you nudged his shoulder, completely missing the scowl sent your way, not only from him, but from everyone in the room except Bob. 

“Pilots, let begin” Mav had unknowingly saved you as he strolled in and you continued your day none the wiser, glad to begin the new week on such a high note. 

Unlike Bob, who had just started the worst day he could imagine. 

He had to apologize to you. He had wanted to dress up, but you’d given him so little time. No, he couldn’t use that as an excuse. He should have put more effort in. And he should have just told you where he was going to take you, but he was fully intending on doing this right, a reservation at the first restaurant he went to when he moved to TopGun , the food had reminded him so much of home and flowers, he was going to get you flowers too but you’d asked him to get you then and there and there had barely even been enough time for a shower and he had been wracking his brain over where he could take you on such short notice and so he didn’t mean to ask where you wanted to go but, he definitley gave you the option of two places and, fuck, he tried. He tried and you hated it and now he probably lost his best friend along with the woman he loved. 

He needed to apologize. Try and salvage what he could. 

For once, could Mav not talk this goddamn long. 

______

As soon as class had ended, Hangman was up and out of his seat, stalking over towards Bob to give him the well deserved pep talk. Bob had barely even had the opportunity to stand up himself before both Nat and Hangman were both giving their own variations of “Fuck her, you deserve someone who is going to appreciate you.” 

Before long, you yourself were walking over to the group of three, wanting to finally have a moment to great your best friend. 

Before you even had a moment though, Bob was blurting out an apology. 

“I’m sorry you hated the date.” 

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for Bob.” Hangman was authoritative, reminding Bob that it was your loss, not his. He hadn’t done anything wrong. 

“Exactly,” you were completely missing the tension in the room, Bob would have almost found it sweet if he wasn’t on the receiving end of heartbreak, “If it weren’t for you saving my night, I think my weekend really would have sucked.” 

“I thought you said your date sucked?” Nat was questioning you and Bob wanted to disappear. 

“It did, that’s why when Bob called after it, asking if I wanted to grab something to eat, it made my night?” Bob's eyes were now wide, suddenly everything was making sense, why you were all dolled up, why you had done everything to not talk about your day, telling him you just wanted to forget it, not really leaning into his flirting. 

Oh, this got so much worse than we was expecting. 

“So you went on a date literally right before you went on a date with Bob?” Jake knew he was smart, I mean, you don’t become one of the best of the best naval aviators without being at ;east a little intelligent, but he was well and truly lost. 

“I didn’t go on a date with Bob?” You couldn’t help but blush, the idea of being taken out by your long standing crush something you had resigned to only entertaining in your dreams. 

“But Bob said,” Now both Nat and Hangman were both looking directly at Bob, waiting for an explanation. 

“How exactly did you ask her out on the date Bob?” Hangman was suddenly catching up, slowly but surely. 

“I asked her if she wanted to go and get something to eat?” Bob was avoiding all eye contact with you while he recounted all that had happened on Saturday night, assuming he had done all he could right, but apparently he was mistaken if the groans from both Nat and Hangman were anything to go by. 

“No Bobby, that is not how you ask a lady out on a date!” Nat was in Bob's face now, trying to explain where he had gone wrong. The bewildered look in his eyes clearly stated he had no idea what he had done wrong still. 

“I told you, you need to ask her to go on a date with you, not grab food or hangout, out. On. a date. if she’s your friend, she is going to misunderstand, exactly like she has here.” Hangman was back to trying to coach Bob. He’d been here and he had learnt the hard way, you have to be explicit, you have to be clear, you want a date, not to hangout, or else when you go for the kiss at the end of the night, things get real awkward real quick. 

“You asked me on a date?” Your voice was quiet and shy as you broke through all of Nat and Hangmans teaching, watching Bob intently as all he could do was nod, still not fully meeting your eyes. “God Bobby, if I had known it was a date, it would have been the best date I think I have ever gone on.” 

Bob’s head was snapping up now, unable to stop the grin that he was now sporting, “You mean it?” He couldn’t help as his midwestern accent slipped through in his excitement. 

“I’m pretty sure all that would have made it better is if you kissed me afterwards.” Now you both were blushing, both feeling more and more shy as the two confident pilots stood watching you both stumble your way through this awkward situation. 

“Bob, ask her out again,” Hangman loudly whispered. 

“And do it properly.” Nat said just a little more loudly, her tone as if she was a parent reprimanding a child. 

You watched grinning as Bob just stood there nodding as he asked, “Would you please go out on a date with me?” 

And he couldn’t help his grin grow wider and wider as you gave him a confident yes in response. “Only if you promise to kiss me after you drop me at home Bobby.”   

Before you could say any more Hangman had his arm around Bob's shoulder, discussing what he should do for the date as he dragged him away, seemingly feeling like Bob clearly had more to be taught, especially if his final question of “Bob, do you even know how to kiss” and Bobs stammer of a response was anything to go by. 

[ambrossart]

Out of the Loop (Preview #2)

⏪ Preview #1 | FULL RELEASE NOV. 10TH

summary: eddie went home with someone after prom, and gareth is determined to figure out who it was.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: -- warnings: language, new relationship, eddie's girlfriend is gareth's arch nemesis, silly childhood rivalries, eddie being happy and stupidly in love, jason being an overprotective ass, chrissy being an adorable little cupcake, the reader is chrissy's best friend, the unnamed freak is named grant in this series

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

Now Gareth, his resolve reignited and burning brighter than ever, was prowling the senior locker area with his suspect list in hand. 

Let them keep their secrets, he thought. I don’t need their help. A lot of help they would’ve been, anyway. Yeah, I can solve this mystery all on my own.

And he would. 

Gareth was a fantastic investigator, you see. He could win a game of Guess Who? in less than five turns and had a lifetime record of fifty-three wins and only fifteen losses (such losses were unavoidable when you drew an easily guessable character like Anita. Ugh, Anita… with those rosy cheeks and annoying blonde pigtails. His little sister beat him in only two moves after that unlucky draw). Now Gareth would apply those same deductive reasoning skills to this. Ask careful, complex questions. Gather information. Cross those ladies off one by one.

There was only one problem: the girls at Hawkins High weren’t exactly forthcoming about their personal lives, especially when it involved Eddie Munson. In fact, most girls denied ever having spoken to the guy. 

Claire Dunnock, the most recent inductee into the popular clique, was being especially difficult.

Her blue eyes shifted back and forth anxiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and then leaned forward to make sure none of her new friends were eavesdropping. Claire had to be very careful. One misstep and she would slide all the way back down the social ladder. She couldn’t afford to let that happen.

Gareth sensed her unease. “Hey, relax,” he told her, “I’m not here to ruin your reputation, okay? This conversation stays between us. You have my word.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with that freak.”

“Hey, that freak is my best friend,” Gareth said. “And you and I both know that’s not true, Claire. I saw you get into his van that one—”    

Claire seized him by the arm and hissed, “Shut up!” Her eyes blazed with fearful, self-protective rage. “Look, that was a year ago, okay? I was a stupid junior who didn’t know any better. Eddie and I had a class together. I guess I got a little curious, but that’s it. We hung out once and I never spoke to him again.” Loosening her grip, she said, “Besides, he was nothing but a big disappointment, anyway.”

Anger flared in Gareth’s chest. “All right, that's it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you slander my friend.” 

“It’s not slander if it’s true,” Claire said. 

Gareth didn’t know how to respond to that.

His jaw clenched in irritation. “Look, just answer my question, okay? Did you go home with Eddie after prom or not?”

“Of course not,” Claire answered, practically cackling at the thought. 

(Why were high school girls so needlessly cruel?)

“I went to prom with my boyfriend. I was with him all night. Ask anyone.” Claire swung her locker door closed, put her hand on her hip, and raised her eyebrows impatiently. “Are we done now?” She walked off to join the rest of her friends. 

Gareth glared at her back, his insides boiling with indignation and righteous fury.

You got curious and Eddie got his heart broken. Again. 

He crossed out Claire’s name with his pen. 

Two suspects down. Eight more to go. 

He tucked his pen behind his ear, turned, and suddenly the hallway froze over! Okay, that didn’t actually happen, but a bitter wind did blow. Gareth felt it on his face as soon as he saw you step out from around the corner. 

Coincidence? 

Doubtful.

You were wearing blue jeans and a Fleetwood Mac shirt. Yeah, you would like Fleetwood Mac, Gareth thought, scoffing. As usual, you were walking side by side with Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend since elementary school. She was smiling and laughing at one of your jokes. Laughing out of politeness, probably. Why you two were friends, Gareth would never know. Chrissy was sweet like cotton candy and you were so… so…

(evil, pure evil)

rotten to the core, like moldy fruit.

“I swear,” you said with a groan, “it’ll be weeks before your mom lets me into the house again. God, she’s such a prude. How was I supposed to know she was gonna invite the whole family over for Sunday brunch? At least I was dressed up for the occasion.”

Chrissy looked at you in baffled amusement. “You were still wearing your prom dress.”

“And it was a very nice prom dress. Your grandma even complimented it. She said it made me look like Madonna.” You weren’t too thrilled about that comparison, but who were you to pass up a free compliment? “Now your mom, on the other hand… man, if looks could kill… I probably would’ve choked on one of those blueberry scones she was serving, which were a tad overbaked if I’m being honest.”

Chrissy went to her locker and fiddled with the padlock for a second before opening it. You stood patiently beside her, the wall clock barely within view. 

It was a quarter past eight, you noted with a frown. Was Eddie here already or…? 

While hanging up her backpack, Chrissy said, “Yeah, she definitely had some colorful words to describe you last night.” 

You turned your attention back to her. “Your mom called me a slut, didn’t she?”

Chrissy didn’t answer at first. She was busy unloading her homework. While she was doing that, one of her fellow cheerleaders snuck up behind her, tapped her on the shoulder, and gave a cheerful, heartfelt hello. Chrissy hugged her and asked how her weekend was. The two chatted casually for a minute and then the girl went on her way. Never so much as glanced at you. 

“Umm, I believe she used the word harlot,” Chrissy said to you afterward. 

“Oh, she got biblical, huh?” Great, you thought, as if that woman didn’t despise you enough already. “You know, I don’t understand your mom. First I’m too fat to be your friend. Now I’m too much of a slut. That lady needs to pick a lane and stay in it… and then drive herself right off a cliff.”  

Chrissy threw you a friendly glare.

“Just kidding,” you said. “You know I love your mom. She keeps me grounded. Without her, I might develop a healthy self-esteem, and we all know how dangerous that is. Yeah, that might lead to confidence and success… perhaps even lifelong happiness.” 

Ignoring you (or pretending to), Chrissy started digging through her backpack again. “Dammit,” she said under her breath, “I think I left my pencil case at home.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Jason has a pencil for you.” You smiled inwardly—a willful, wicked smile. “Then again…”  

Chrissy pushed her locker closed, grabbed both your hands, backed you up against the lockers, and brought her face really close to yours. “Shut up,” she whispered in half-hearted anger, a rosy blush blooming on the apples of her cheeks. 

You took one look at her and busted out laughing. Chrissy started laughing, too. 

“I hate you so much,” she said, and released you. 

“I know,” you replied affectionately. “But see, this is why the whole situation with your mom is so funny to me. I’m the one who’s still a virgin here, yet somehow it’s me who gets labeled the…” 

You spotted a familiar face down the hall. 

“Gareth?” You leaned toward him, squinting. “What are you doing in the senior locker area?”

The sound of your voice made him flinch. “Nothing,” he said, acting strangely defensive for some reason.

That’s when you noticed the piece of paper in his hand. You gestured toward it with your chin and said, “What’s that you got there? Is that a love letter? You finally asking someone out on a date? Will you go out with me? Check yes or no. Who’s the lucky lady? Wait, aren’t you a little young to be dating?”

Gareth hid the paper behind his back and glared at you. “We’re the same age.” 

“And yet I’m a senior and you’re a junior. Hmm, how did that happen?” You tipped your head and smiled at him. “You’ve got company, by the way.” 

“Huh?” Gareth stepped back and—

A hand landed on his shoulder, closed around his flannel shirt, and spun him around. Gareth jumped back, swallowing a scream. He was now standing nose to chest with Ben Jabruski, outside linebacker and two-time defensive player of the year. Eric Kordell stood beside him, smaller but no less intimidating. His brown eyes gleamed with feral, territorial aggression. 

“Get outta here, freak,” Eric said. 

Gareth squared up to him, unafraid. “Last time I checked this was a free country.” He wrenched his shirt out of Ben’s grip, careful not to tear his favorite flannel. It was a Christmas gift from his mother. 

While he was distracted, Eric reached out and ripped the paper out of Gareth’s hand. 

“Hey, give that back!” 

“What’s this?” Eric asked. He opened the paper and studied it for a minute. His expression went from amused to curious to downright furious. He crushed the list in his fist. “Why’s my girlfriend on here?” 

“Oh…” Panic shot up Gareth’s spine. He took a step back and let loose a nervous chuckle. “Oh… you must be Claire’s boyfriend. You know, I heard you two had a lovely time at prom.” 

He turned on his heel and took off running down the hallway. 

“Bye, Gareth!” you said, fluttering your fingers as he passed. Then you looked back at Chrissy with a smile. “God, I love that kid…”

You went to your locker after that, ignoring all the busy little voices, the occasional odd glance and stifled giggle you received from the other students. Chrissy followed with her first-period textbook cradled in her arms. 

“Just ignore them,” she told you. 

“I already am,” you said. 

At the end of the hallway, you spotted Chance Gallagher standing in front of his open locker, wearing the same green letterman jacket that he wore when he asked you to prom six weeks ago. Chance closed his locker and caught your eye for a moment. Then he gave you a small, apologetic smile. 

What was he apologizing for? For asking you to prom, getting your hopes up, and then humiliating you in front of the entire senior class? You weren’t sorry he did it. In fact, you were glad he did it. Yeah, you wanted to go up to him, shake his hand, and thank him for being such a spineless little worm. If he were a decent guy, your night might have gone differently, and you were quite pleased with how your night went. So thank you, Chance. Thank you for being a complete scumbag. Maybe I should write him a thank-you note. 

Smiling, you turned back around. As you did, you stole another quick glance at the clock on the wall. 

Eight-nineteen… 

You sighed. 

… and now eight-twenty. 

“He’s running late, huh?” Chrissy said. You looked her way and she flashed you a sweet, teasing smile. “I know you’re waiting for him.”

A small flush of heat tickled your cheeks, threatening to set your whole face on fire. Resisting it, you grabbed your padlock and started furiously spinning the dial: three turns to the right, one full turn to the left, another quick turn to the right, and

“Are you nervous about seeing him?”

you missed the last number and had to start all over again. 

“Kind of,” you admitted shyly. “Is that weird?”

Chrissy shook her head, her smile growing brighter and brighter. “Nope, it’s totally normal and absolutely adorable.” Giggling, she hugged her book tightly to her chest. If her hands were free, she probably would have hugged you instead. “I’m so happy for you. I really, really am. I swear, I feel like my heart’s about to burst right now.” 

“Well, you should probably see a doctor about that.” 

Chrissy stuck her tongue out at you. You did it right back, popped off your lock, and pulled on the handle. The locker door swung outward, squeaking on its hinges, and almost smacked Chrissy in the face. “Hey!” she said, laughing. She stepped back, skipped around you, and planted herself comfortably on your left side.

“So did you see him last night?” she asked, practically beaming. 

“Nope.” You slipped off your backpack and hung it on the hook. 

Chrissy squinted at you suspiciously. “Why do I feel like you’re lying right now?” 

“I’m not lying,” you told her, only to be betrayed by your blushing face. “I didn’t see him last night… technically it was this morning.” 

Twelve-o-two, to be exact. That’s when you saw the headlights flashing through your bedroom window blinds.

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.  

“What? He just stopped by to say goodnight.” You smiled softly to yourself. “It was kind of romantic, actually.” 

“Uh-huh,” Chrissy said, laughing at you. “And how long did you two say goodnight?”

“Only for an hour… and a half.”

It was raining last night. You couldn’t invite Eddie into the house, so you two hung out in his van for a while. A very long while. W.A.S.P. was playing on the stereo. Eddie had found the cassette tape while cleaning out his van that afternoon. He was very proud of this accomplishment. It was adorable. He had you listen to a few of his favorite songs, asked you about your day, told you about his, and during “Cries In the Night,” he leaned over the center console and kissed you. Everything after that was a bit of a blur. The last thing you remembered was the horn blaring. You had accidentally pressed it with your elbow.  

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.

“Stop saying, ‘Oh my god.’ You sound like my mom.”  

She had said the exact same thing after confronting you about it in the kitchen this morning. Turns out, the car horn had woken her up. Then she caught you creeping back inside through the front door. It was an awkward breakfast, to say the least. 

“That’s how it starts, you know,” Chrissy said. “Late-night visits. Long, drawn-out goodbyes. You two are gonna be inseparable this summer.” She breathed a long, lovesick sigh. “Jason and I used to be like that.” 

“You’re still like that.” 

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. 

“Speaking of…” You saw Jason Carver coming down the hallway, his pants ironed and creased, white collared shirt tucked in, a brand new Rolex glinting on his left wrist (an early graduation present from his father, apparently). He looked like a Ralph Lauren catalog model. “Is it weird that I’m picturing him naked right now?”   

Chrissy hid her face in embarrassment. “I swear to God, if you say anything…” 

“What am I gonna say to him? ‘Thank you for deflowering my best friend’? ‘I heard your penis is rather pleasing’? I don’t wanna talk to him about that. I don’t even wanna think about that.”

Prior to this weekend, you couldn’t even imagine Jason Carver having genitals. You always figured he was like a Ken doll down there. Nothing but smooth plastic.

Chrissy looked at you, mortified. “Why do I tell you anything?”  

“I have no idea,” you said. Then you checked the clock again. 

Eight twenty-three. 

Where the hell was Eddie?

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

unfortunately, i no longer do taglists. if you want to stay updwated on my fics, you can follow me and/or subscribe to my posts. thank you!

[angelgoeslewd]

is she the other girl? (Raphael’s Part)

🔮 summary: inspired by this post, Raphael is rumored to be seen getting cozy with another women. you, though not officially dating him, get a bit jealous and confront him about it.

🎧 listening pairing: ava. natalie jane.

⚠️ warnings: heavy angst, some language, bad coping skills.

[BARBATOS, DIAVOLO, SIMEON, AND SOLOMON COMING SOON!]

Raphael was not known for his social personality. there were definitely a lot of rumors and gossip going around about him, but many of them had to do with his sarcastic demeanor, his cold shoulder, and blank face. all of it was pretty much bullshit and you easily tuned most of it out. except the day you were in the library, sorting through books to find a specific one he had recommended reading alongside the other he gave you, a touching gesture to you, though to some it may have seemed like he was trying to look down on you, like you wouldn’t understand his book unless you read its companion. but to you? you cherished the fact that he shared something with you, something you knew he liked. he simply wanted you to see it from his eyes. and that’s when it happened.

two fellow students came around the corner to your side of the library, hushed whispers in between the rows of book. it wasn’t unusual, but the minute you caught whiff of Raphael’s name being dropped, you felt you owed some sort of defensiveness to the angel who had so kindly gave you his reading recommendation, straight from his own shelf, and instantly turned to jump in, a decision you usually chose not to make. and did you ever regret it.

“-I know! Who’d ever thought it? Mr. Holier-Than-Thou, neva seen a smile a day in his life got game!”

“You’re sure it was her? She’s so pretty! What does she see in him??”

“I know!! That’s what I said- but, and get this, apparently she was wrapped around his arm the whole time! They went to a bunch’a places! This fancy restaurant on Main, some sort of jewelry shop… like a ridiculous amount of money had to have been spent on her! I dunno what it is, but Raphael’s got it!”

they both laugh and being to walk away, the sound of their voices fading as they do. you standing there with your raised hand, pointed into a wagging finger, and let it drops to your side as you blinked at their words. Raphael… had a girlfriend? He had a girlfriend? That you didn’t know about? He was a very private person, but he didn’t seem like the type to lead you on. Especially when he was treating you so special now… the way he beelined to sit next to you, how he shared his things with you, asked you to spend time with him more… you thought he was the type who would only do things like that when he was interested in someone. did you misjudge his feelings? he… couldn’t have misjudged yours, however. you thought you made it quite obvious you had a thing for the angel. he… should’ve said something. he just let you go on this impossible quest that you would never win and embarrass yourself? so you could be the silly human trying to win the heart of an angel? it hurt.

it hurt so much — the confusion, the embarrassment, how much emphasis you put on feeling like your affections were shared — that you had to completely separate yourself from him for a while. you couldn’t face any of the angels, in fact, knowing they would try to help on behalf of their brother and you just couldn’t deal with it. you completely rearranged your schedule, choosing to nap with Belphie one day, be late to classes with Mammon so you could sit in the back with him, eat lunch out with Beel, all so you could avoid the angels. your heart hurt whenever you saw Luke worriedly glancing your way, but the idea of him bringing up whatever happened with Raphael had you turning the other direction. Simeon and Raphael both stared at you whenever you had classes together, even if it meant them getting admonished by the teacher. you kept your gaze to your paper or the board, pretending not to see them in the corner of your eye. you were packed and out the door before they ever had time to approach you.

it was hard, having the piercing gaze of the angels always on you, trying to avoid them when they always seem to know where you were, but whenever you thought back to what happened in the library, your heart throbbed painfully and you continued to mute their texts, leave your phone in your room and go on whatever outing the demon brothers had planned for that day.

an entire week goes by like this.

surprisingly, it was Solomon who ended up approaching you. he had tactfully avoided the whole thing, never mentioning it to you and therefore still was allowed contact with you, but you still kept him on thin ice and were positive he knew that. you suppose that’s why he trapped you. Solomon asked you to help him study a new spell, avoiding any outing that seemed to suggest small talk, instead offering to go to the human world, where you knew it would be nearly impossible for the angels to follow, as they almost always needed permission from Michael to go on such a field trip. you agreed and when you got there, he immediately started working on the spell, to his defense. but… it was much too easy. you got it after 30 minutes. he shrugged and pushed it off, saying it seemed more difficult in theory. he offered you tea and again, you agreed, disarmed by the convincing lies.

and that’s when he dropped it on you. “I think you should talk to Raphael.” you stopped, cup half raised to your mouth, looking at him, seething.

“Is that why you invited me here?” you spat, slapping down the teacup a little harder than you should have. “Just to talk about him?”

Solomon considered you for a moment. Then shook his head and asked, “What happened? Apparently, according to him, everything was going just fine and then you started avoiding all of them.”

“Just fine? Yeah, he would say that.” you scoffed. “He has a girlfriend.”

Solomon blinked, “No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does!”

“I’ve never seen her.”

“Me neither!”

“Then how do you even know he has one?”

“These things come out, Solomon! You can’t just hide it forever! But you also just can’t ignore a girlfriend! She was on his arm — he took her to all these nice places! Everyone saw it!”

the sorcerer leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, hand on his chin, frowning as he thought. you grit your teething, cursing him, Raphael, those students, with every breath you took. sadly, you can’t do mental spells just yet, and it doesn’t work.

after a while, he shook his head. his eyes blinked open, but the frown stayed in place. “I… really don’t think so. It’s not my place to say but… you mean something to him. He’s completely insufferable right now, you know? He’s been that way since you’ve started ignoring him; snapping at all of us, hiding out in his room for almost the entire day. No one can get him out. It’s a train wreck, really.” He sits forward, leaning over the table to drive his words home, “Please. You don’t have to forgive him, you don’t even have to be nice. Just. Talk to him. If not for him, then for Luke. Raphael made him cry yesterday.”

and that’s where you sit currently. Back at the House of Lamentation, on your bed, glaring at your phone. You haven’t even opened the chat, dreading doing so, but you have to get this over with. you pick up the phone. you open the chat.

it is filled with over 200 messages of him pleading with you to talk him, asking what happened. 29 missed calls. you take a breath, asking Michael to have mercy on you and let Raphael be asleep, and begin to type,

‘we need to talk.’

the green online light is instant, like he’s been waiting by his phone.

‘Yes. Please. Where can we meet?’

‘no. here.’

‘Why do you not want to meet me? What happened?’

another text quickly follows that one.

‘I miss you so much.’

it’s something that makes tears hop to your eyes, his honeyed sweetness — his absolute honesty of his feelings when you know he hates it. it means so much and feels like a stab to the chest all at once. all the feelings you’ve been avoiding hit you over and over, the undertow of your sea of emotions pulling you out, anger and betrayal and pain washing over you again and again, and you can’t stop yourself from hastily typing out a response.

‘you had a girlfriend?? this whole time?? i thiught i meant something to you. i thought we were i dont know connecting!? i felt so close to you, i wanted to share everything you did, i paid attention to everything you said, every little thing i could learn about you. it hurts so much to have you do this to me. i wanted to be with you every single second i could, you mean so much to me. did it mean anything to you? was i just a plaything? a human you could toy with to amuse yourself??’

‘…’

your anxiety spikes when the dots indicating he’s writing pop up. they disappear. they return. they linger. it happens a couple times and you so badly want to throw your phone across the room, but you’re so invested in what he has to say, how he could excuse himself for this, when one line pops up.

‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’

you do end up throwing your phone.

you end up crying into your pillow for a while, completely ignoring the sound of your phone vibrating with message alerts. but when your ringtone goes off, you decide to pick yourself up and answer it.

Raphael calls your name from the speaker.

it crackles like he’s outside, wind blowing into the microphone, but you still can hear him. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Raph,” you say, exhausted from all your emotions. “People saw you. The- the girl! Hanging off of your arm!”

“Girl… ? Ah. You must mean that one.”

“That one? You have others?” you deadpan.

“No. No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. The blonde one, yes?”

“I- I don’t know! I didn’t ask for details! I was too busy being hurt by — ”

“The jewelry store? Yes, I can see how that might have looked.” He sighs, barely audible above the wind. “That’s why I was trying so hard to get rid of that witch. I knew something like this could happen.”

to say you’re shocked would be an understatement, his words make you second guess everything you’ve done in the past week. “The… witch?” you ask meekly.

“Yes. The drunk one. She kept grabbing my arm and following me while I was doing errands for Michael. I couldn’t get her off and Michael needed those things urgently. They couldn’t wait. I understand how looked from the outside. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

you’re on the verge of crying again. he didn’t… have a girlfriend? you’re so embarrassed, yet relieved, and you feel so stupid for even believing those damn rumors, but you were so hurt by such a believable story-

Raphael calls your name again, this time, despite it sounding identical, is tinged with worry. “You’re whimpering into the phone. Are you ok?”

“I- I’m ok. I just… feel so stupid right now,” you whispered, voice cracking as you force yourself through the sentence. “Raphael, I’m so sorry, I- I should’ve-” you can’t finish. you have to cover your mouth as the tears win, flowing over your hot cheeks, hoping he doesn’t make fun of you too much.

you expect some sort of sarcastic response, a comment that slices you when it points out how ridiculous and over the top you’ve made this scenario. but it doesn’t come. Raphael doesn’t do any of that. All he asks is, “Can I come over?”

“Yes,” you choke, breaking down even harder.

and then he’s there, you don’t know how, but his arms wrap around you, his cold jacket catching on your soft pajama top. he clutches you to his chest as you cry, taking the phone from you and setting it down on your desk so you don’t have to clutch it tightly and hurt your fingers.

“Raph… Raph.”

“I’m here. Come on, let’s get you to the bed.”

You twist your fingers in his jacket, a silent plea for him not to let go, but it never even looks like he plans to, awkwardly steering you to the bed as his legs teeter to the side of yours. he falls down with you in his arms, stroking your hair. when your cries taper off, he hands you tissues and wipes your face with his the top of his shirt.

you can feel how puffy your face is, as you sit up, straddling him. he lies there, his blue eyes taking you in as he lets his hands hesitantly rest on your hips. “Raph, I’m- I’m so sorry. I should’ve come to you about it. I made everyone miserable.”

He gives you one of his rare, warm smiles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy we’re ok now.” A nervous look crosses his face and he looks away from you. “Did… did you mean what you said earlier? You want to be with me?”

“I- yeah. I did- do! I do. Very much so.”

“Next time, I’m taking you on errands with me.”

[0alanasworld0]

Hero (Abde Ezzalzouli x reader)

Description: Abde gets his chance to wind down and relax with you after ending his extended season and finally with a gold medal around his neck.

warnings: sexual jokes, references to sex (no descriptions)

“HEY!” He yells , waving his arms around, a big smile plastered on his face.

Oh god. You thought. That was your surprise ruined. You were hardly close to the front row so you had hope that he wouldn't notice you among the crowds but alas. You attempt to hide your face and turn around but you can faintly hear him say something first

“I can see you, silly! No point hiding now!” He laughs and you relent, giving him a shy wave.

Everyone around you in the stadium is looking in your general direction and they take a while to register who he’s referring to. Eventually their eyes do lay on his mother who sat next to you and it doesn’t take them very long to connect the dots when they see your flustered face and the number 16 jersey that was just a little too big on you.

You can’t help but laugh as well when you see him beckon over his teammates, pointing you out to them. You want to be stern with him but he’s so cute. Ibrahim is the first to notice you among the crowd, somehow going even crazier than Abde at the sight of you.

You had grown quite close to the team. From the way Abde spoke of them when they weren’t around to the way they were when you first met them, they didn’t disappoint at all. They were indeed extremely energetic almost beyond belief, like your little cousins but somehow even more so. In a fairly short space of time, they had become family to him. 

He wasn’t overjoyed at the news of his ‘demotion’ to the under-23s. And he certainly didn’t like the word ‘demotion’ either. When he had come to terms with the fact, he was constantly reminding himself that it wasn’t that at all. Not for the role he was expected to play, anyway. Nevertheless, the social media discourse referring to it that way never failed to irritate him. 

He had no idea that he was going to become the official captain and armed with that information, he maybe wouldn’t have felt so down about his placement. The questions that constantly circled in his head soon dissipated when he first got a glimpse of that blue band. It sat pretty on the hanger which held his jersey. That was still the same at least. Another sign that he was nowhere near out of the count. He was still a part of his national team, he was still appreciated but he supposed that the new role would be perfect for his development. 

It was different from the senior team. He couldn’t blame his older teammates for passing to the safer options, of course Ounahi would think of passing to Hakim or Youssef before him. Matches needed winning and the other forwards certainly knew a lot about that. Much more than he did. Although he still wished for more chances, just a little bit of faith but alas. 

Although the first concession did almost send him swirling into a panic, he managed to pull himself together and was sure to not repeat old mistakes. His teammates trusted him with everything as captain and he wasn’t going to break that. This would seal off his redemption if all went well.

“Went well” didn’t do him justice at all. The trust from his teammates and coaches was turning him into a true monster. Everything was on the upturn: his passing, communication, decision-making. He wasn’t the little Neymar-wannabe he used to be, he was serious and he was going to fight tooth and nail for the win.

That fire was exactly what led him to the present. They made reaching the finals look so easy, it was almost funny but now was the true test. It was no secret that Egypt had been achieving similar performances. They were good. In the intimidating way: darkness on their faces, ruthless, knew how to get under players’ skin. Abde had picked up on enough of their habits to know just how to work around them. They were good but there were weak points he was going to take advantage of. He was worried, of course, but more than anything he was excited.

“Man, you had better not let your girl distract you!” Ayman slaps the back of his head and Abde pushes him off, attempting to shake off his love-struck haze.

“Oh please, this is just more motivation! Not like you would know what this is like!” Abde scoffs and he’s met with another slap on the head before they both get back to warming up.

Of course, you couldn’t hear a word but you were worried about him being distracted too. You hoped that your presence would be a surprise for the end of the match - you were pretty sure of the result even if he wasn't - he wasn’t supposed to catch you out like this among the crowd. Apparently fate had other plans.

Your worries didn’t really settle because even while warming up, he was constantly looking over at you and pointing you out to even more of his teammates and making cute little faces. It was sweet and your heart fluttered at the idea that he always had you on his mind, enough to catch you in the middle of such a crazy mob like this one. Proud to show you off to anyone and everyone who would entertain him. Nonetheless, he needed to get his head in the game and eventually coach Charai does, physically, knock some sense into him and he finally diverts his attention away from you.

The start of the match is far from picture-perfect, the team looks good but much to their annoyance, Egypt does too. And they’re not going easy on your love either. Every chance he gets on the ball feels like a death-wish with the tackles they were trying. Especially with the first concession, an absolute screamer of a longshot, they don’t back down. They look hungrier and their tackles get more and more reckless. 

Of course Abde had anticipated it, he wouldn’t dare let himself get injured like that but he could certainly frame the players for trying. His plan finally comes to fruition with one wrong move. A tackle that digs straight into Abde’s ankle and you wince immediately. It looks awful and you couldn’t tell whether it was one of those times he was playing it up. Thankfully a red card comes after what felt like years of deliberating. Of course, your Abde got up just fine, raring to go with the new advantage they had.

But still, they’re a pain to break past. There was no doubt that the boys were doing great, but still. They still needed that cut-through, they weren’t going down without the fight of their lives, that was for sure. 

It feels like years but it’s a very welcomed shock to the system when one finally does bury itself into the back of the net. As the crowd around you goes wild, the only thing you can feel is relief. You can’t even bring yourself to scream because you were beyond exhausted. The stress you were feeling from the match was finally simmering down. They were still in it, far from being done. 

Once again, you feel your heart in your throat as your love goes to take a free kick. What was most certainly going to be the last of the night. You knew that free kicks were far from his specialty, he’d complained about his inability to take them in the past. You were always so sure that he was simply being harsh on himself but at this very moment, you hoped with everything you had that your assumption was correct. There was an underlying fear that he was, in fact, right. The way he was taking his sweet time didn't really help either.

You can feel the tension in the air, the otherwise ear-shattering screeching of the crowd quieting into an uncomfortable silence. It was almost painful, the sense of dread was apparent across the stadium.

You can see Abde finally set the ball down, Bilal pushing a player that was getting too close for any of their liking. One thing catches your eye, though. A straggling player to Abde’s side, barely moving. It was as if he was trying as hard as he could to remain invisible. Not a single Egyptian player thought to mark him so perhaps it was working.

It was as if you could hear the entire stadium suck in a breath as Abde takes his step towards the ball and you all expect a rocket of a ball to fly through, the Egyptian players do too as they all jump from their wall formation in an attempt to clear but nothing. A quick cross to his side, barely visible and right to the straggler. It has everyone in the box completely blindsided and there's a frantic scatter, a mix of red and white shirts all pushing and shoving. It's all so messy that the ball flies, almost completely unnoticed from the straggler and finally, FINALLY, into the back of the net.

It's almost too quick to process and there's a moment of near-complete silence as realisation settles in. The roar that emanates across the little stadium is practically deafening, ear-popping. 15 minutes on the clock and the deadlock finally broken. The red shirts all piling in on each other to celebrate the breakthrough. Your Abde may not have had the best track record with free-kick goal attempts but he certainly had his wits about him.

This time, you scream. As loud as you can manage. You can’t hear yourself amidst all the other chaos but you feel your throat strain. It was so close, you could envision your love already lifting that trophy. You were confident now because if there was one thing this team knew how to do, it was defend. They would do it with their lives. 15 minutes.

Chaos was what it was. A blur of tackles and wasteful long passes by your beloved red shirts. Screams of frustration from the whites. A little bit of extra time-wasting and showboating by Bellaarouch who was perhaps treading very fine line but with 5 minutes on the clock, you supposed that he could care less. 

It was evident that the Egyptian players had all but given up. Their best players off the pitch now to be replaced with subs that, if anything, were only wasting more time for themselves. Some rather pathetic last-ditch attempts at earning a penalty, their only hope, but it was very clearly over.

You reach the dying seconds of the game and the tension rebuilds itself rapidly as you all await the final whistle. So so close. The wait was painful and you supposed that your impatience wasn't really speeding things up.

The players and coaches all lined up at the edges of the pitch, hands on their heads. Some raise theirs in prayer. Literal seconds. An exhausted Egyptian and an antsy Moroccan one. Seconds and the stadium had gone quiet as everyone awaited that final whistle. 

You can only hear the beautiful sound for a second before the whole stadium is lit up with screams and sparklers. It was pure electricity in there, it moved throughout the stadium and through your body. Visceral. Some manage to make it onto the pitch from the front seats and the players are all piling on each other to celebrate. The Egyptian players all frozen in their spots, defeated as ever and with very little sympathy from the sea of red that surrounded them. 

You only see the flash of red for a second before you’re enveloped in his arms and it quite literally knocks the breath out of you. He was so excited and had seemingly forgotten how strong he was so the impact paired with the squeeze around your frame was a shock to your system. The adrenaline is rushing through you too so you manage to recover too, one hand on his back and the other on the back of his head, pulling him into your neck and you feel his tears fall onto your shoulder. Months and months of doubting himself, hours of you talking him down from his panicked ramblings. All of that pain and stress had finally settled and it all felt so worth it. He had come so far and words couldn’t describe just how proud you were of him.

He pulls his face from your neck and lets his forehead rest against yours. Lips only centimetres away from yours and you can see his eyes drift. There’s nothing you want to do more than kiss him, among other things, but with the crowd surrounding you - and his mum right there - you knew it would be best to wait.

“Abde, behave yourself.” you whisper so only he could hear and he grins, rolling his eyes and opting to kiss your forehead and the tip of your nose before hugging you to his chest. You could feel him physically relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. He rocks you back and forth for a while before letting you go and trapping his mum in the same, bone-crushing hug. 

He has to leave you both again as the podiums were laid out for the awards ceremony, the gold medals all ready and waiting for them. Abde’s golden boot, his first ever, waiting there as well alongside the AFCON trophy. Your heart could burst with pride for him and it felt like a genuine possibility when you watched him receive his golden boot. You weren’t as far away anymore so you could see the look on his face: amazement and disbelief. Of course, you had always known what he could do but even with the award in his hands he still couldn’t believe it. 

You quickly grew impatient as you waited for him to receive his medal because of course he had placed himself at the back of the line. The silver medallists get it over with pretty quickly, barely looking up and avoiding the camera flashes, only a few of them keeping the medals on as they walked down the line. It felt like time had slowed to a near pause as the Moroccan players received their accolades. And of course, the love of your life was right at the back of the line as he held the responsibility of lifting the trophy as well. You were growing antsy, counting down the players until it was finally time. The shock had finally worn off and now he just looked ecstatic. He had recently developed a not-so-nice habit of denying himself such celebrations but it seemed that he was finally allowing himself to revel in the satisfaction.

 He gets the first lift of the trophy to himself before he’s ushered to where his teammates were all standing. He takes his sweet time to reach them, in bouncing steps; much like his football hero only months prior. One final, especially a big leap and he finally raises the trophy with his vice captain almost perfectly in-sync with the beat of the music. Green, red and gold streamers everywhere and fireworks lighting up the sky above. 

Once the main photos are taken and after yet another victory lap of the stadium, Abde rushes over to you and practically drags you, his mum and his brother down to the field so you could all celebrate properly.

The cheering felt so different on the grass, it hadn’t quietened down at all and the way it all just surrounded you now. It was something so so special. The noise and colours hit you in every direction equally and you felt overwhelmed yet amazed at the same time. He takes you around so you can meet with his teammates again, now without the stress of the match weighing them down. His arm doesn’t leave your shoulder once as you make your rounds. As always, ready and waiting to show you off to everyone.

Although you don’t say, he knows that you don’t find any of the conversations particularly entertaining. How could you? Your world was so different from his and even though you were so deeply in love with each other in spite of it all, he could never blame you for struggling to understand things. He makes sure to slip a joke to you every once in a while, whispering in your ear the second everyone’s looking away, sneaking in gentle kisses onto your cheek and temple. At least you both think everyone’s looking away but the photographers had gotten quite sneaky so some of the sweet moments were captured anyway. The internet would have a field day with those photos, as they always did. 

Over the course of the on-field celebrations, his arm drifts down from your shoulder to your waist which he gently squeezes every once in a while, just to remind you that your AFCON gold-medallist was still there and soon to be all yours.

Once the main crowd on the field had left, many of the journalists and photographers, he ushers you all to sit down on the podium steps and before you go to sit next to him, you feel him gently tugging at your wrist. You pause, looking at him in slight confusion and he pats the spot in front of him and between his legs. Your eyes widen, slightly bewildered and he shrugs nonchalantly, pulling you down so you could finally relax. It wasn’t like his family cared anyway, they adored you as if you were theirs and there was no doubt that you were a good influence on their boy. 

Although you manage to create some distance between the pair of you, he’s not having any of it so he wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you so that your back is against his chest. Thankfully his mum appears to be distracted talking to one of the other players but his brother was very much still there and you could hear him chuckle. He didn’t mind the behaviour at all but he found Abde’s infatuation with you absolutely hilarious. It wasn’t even just now, it was a pattern of behaviours that left him without a doubt in his mind about how in love his little brother was with you. It was impressive. 

“You idiot, there are still photographers around!” you scold and he only responds with a kiss to your temple.

“Anjo, come on! I deserve a reward, no?” he teases and you roll your eyes, although he can’t see. You imagined he was quite proud of that double-meaning. You pretend to be annoyed but the second you hear him start to laugh, you can’t help but chuckle quietly at his dumb joke.

Once you finally relax into his hold, he’s quick to remove the medal from around his neck and place it around yours instead. You distract yourself playing with the heavy, golden disc as he gives his final interviews of the night. You know he’s done when his head drops down onto your shoulder and his hands move to cup yours.

“We really did it.” he sighs as you press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I told you!” you point out and he hides his face in the crook of your neck while you tease him. He keeps you close for a while, enjoying the way you were loosening up a little as the last of the photographers left. The final few did manage to sneak some more shots of the pair of you before leaving but that was the next day's problem, you were none the wiser for the time-being.

“The armband looks nice.” you mumble and he smirks.

“You’ve mentioned it one or two times.” He wants to tease you more for your infatuation with the thing, maybe get a few more compliments or even a hint as to what was to come. but alas he’s whisked away by his teammates for the locker room celebrations while the rest of you are ushered to where the after party was going to be.

Eventually his brother and mum end their night early and make their way back to the hotel but not before waving Abde their goodbyes. A congratulatory hug from his mum and a punch from his brother, just like when they were younger. 

The party itself is quite the spectacle, the hotel reception lavishly decorated and filled with all of the players’ family members. The excited chatter was somewhat refreshing from the noise of the stadium with the emotions still running sky-high. Yet there was some semblance of peace, you could hear your thoughts and somehow that only made things more exciting and you were itching to see the love of your life come through those doors again, you certainly weren’t going to be leaving him for the rest of the night. 

You make use of the spare time to go and talk with your fellow WAGs but the room nears silence when the hotel staff announce the players’ imminent entrance. You didn’t need much indication because you could hear their loud yapping from a mile away. The tense silence is worth it when you manage to spook the boys with the loudest cheers and hollers you could all manage. It was like being back at the stadium when the party quickly hit full-swing, the cheering and the chants echoing down the walls of the venue. It was pretty large but it somehow became suffocating as you weaved through the crowds trying to find YOUR winner. He was searching too, you couldn’t have been too difficult to spot with the giant gold medal still around your neck.

After a good couple minutes of scanning, he’s finally able to spot you lost as ever in the middle of the hall, frantically looking around. He’s quick to end your misery, bounding over, tunnel-vision preventing him from responding to anyone trying to talk to him. He doesn’t want to scare you too badly so he resists the urge to pick you up and hug you from behind. Instead, a little tap on your shoulder and he’s only able to saviour the relief on your face for a split second before you throw yourself at him for a hug.

“I missed you.” you mumble into his ear and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“We were only out for a couple of hours!” he laughs and you remove your head from under his chin, creating a bit of distance before slapping his chest.

“I don’t see your point.” you say matter-of-factly, returning to resting your head on his chest while he rocks you both back and forth. You hoped that you would be able to stay like this for a lot longer than the hug in the stands but he’s pulled off you and you’re both dragged to the centre of the hall and up onto the tables as the chanting began once more.

Abde manages to get his instagram live working again to share the craziness with everyone, for once featuring you which has the live chat even more stoked than before. He kept his family life as private as he possibly could and he had been pretty successful in that, no one outside of his circle even knew the amount of siblings he had. He was even more secretive about you. Your face was known and practically nothing else so any little snippet of your relationship elicited a lot of excitement from the fans. There were a few photos of the pair of you celebrating together and he had mentioned you a handful of times during his interviews. That was really all they had and you were happy to keep it that way. Break-up rumours circulated pretty often with the lack of content but it only served to make the pair of you laugh.

Today, emotions were running high. All positive of course so having the pair of you on live together didn’t feel wrong at all, you were too overcome with excitement to care about any of that. Not the haram police, not the jealous girls that lurked around his page, none of that mattered today.

The party goes on for what feels like years and you’re both so relieved by the time you reach the hotel room. It was lavish to say the least, nothing but the best for you but he hadn’t spent much time in there himself. And for the little time he did spend, he was strictly off any “boyfriend-girlfriend” activities, as much as that pained him. Having you massage his aching muscles at the end of his gruelling training sessions did a number on him yet he couldn’t do anything. And you certainly weren’t one to go against the rules either.

He had plenty of images in his head of all the things he wanted to do to you, and you had plenty of ideas of how you were going to reward him but the second he fell onto the bed… 

“Anjo I don’t think i can move from here.” he sounds disappointed of course but you couldn’t blame him. It had been a rough few weeks, non-stop work as a kay player and captain. He didn’t have time to be exhausted for a solid two weeks and it was crashing down the very second his mind was freed of the stresses of the tournament.

You make your way out of the en-suite, makeup off and only donning one of his shirts over your underwear.

“You could at least get yourself under the covers, no?” you joke and he thinks for a second.

“Well I was hoping that, y’know…” he leaves the statement open, hoping that you’ll catch onto his request because now that he’s actually able to take a second, his back is absolutely killing him. He manages to get his shirt off, not without groaning in pain and you finally do catch on.

“Can you keep the armband?” you ask quietly, and he laughs, enduring the pain he feels in his back even from that. He doesn’t press further and he relents, leaving it on for you.

You quickly get yourself into position, grabbing the lotion and straddling the backs of his thighs. His back is peppered with bruises and a couple of nasty looking scrapes, scabbed over so you supposed he got those in one of his many scraps in the last match. 

You start with the knots on the back of his neck and he immediately sinks into the sheets, sighing out in relief as you worked your magic on his tense and sore muscles. Even with the massages you gave him in between every training session, after the other matches, nothing could hold up against the amount of work he was doing. Of course it was all worth it in the end, the gold medal very much still around your neck. But it had taken its toll on his body and he was finally processing the amount of pain he was in.

you’re careful to not put too much pressure on his bruises as you slowly work your way down his back. He gives you the occasional grunt of approval, sighing as he feels the pain melt away at the tips of your fingers.

“So warm…” he compliments, taking a deep breath in and revelling in the way it didn’t hurt anywhere near as badly as it did before you worked your magic.

“That’s my freak trick!” you joke, it was true though. Your hands were always weirdly warm, even in the cold winter months. Your hands always persisted as mini space heaters and it was something he absolutely adored about you. His hands always firmly grasped yours whenever he needed warming up.

“You’re not a freak!” you scoff at that.

“You’re not! You’re an angel who’s perfect in every way, hands and all.” he assures and you chuckle at his certainty, he really never gave you room to doubt yourself. You were the definition of pure perfection in his eyes. Nothing could come close to you and when you did things like this for him, it only solidified his beliefs.

“Those defenders were…”

“Getafe-standard ankle-breakers.” he mutters, annoyed at even the thought of them. Not that he was wrong, playing low-block in what was supposed to be a super important final was… a choice. And indeed very akin to Getafe.

“You got the better of them though, hmm? Made them look like fools out there.”

“Not before they tried to shatter my legs. That Diomande guy from Mali… now THAT'S a real defender!” he admits. He may have had an ego but you loved the way he was able to appreciate other players around him, even opposition. 

“What about the blond one? The Hopper?”

“Oh Atef? Yeah, he was an advantage to us if anything. How do you waste the dying minutes of a game YOU’RE losing to try and bag a penalty when you knock YOURSELF out?” he wonders and you can’t help but laugh. He was right, everyone had expected much better out of the guy who was supposed to be replacing their best player. You were sure Abde didn’t mind it at all. At the very least, they didn’t make the same mistake as they did against Mali. 

You continue to go about the expanse of his back, trying to keep him talking so he wouldn’t fall asleep on top of the covers. Asking about other players he had come across, his teammates, he mentions a food place that he wanted to take you to the next day.

By the time you’re done with him, he’s just about awake but you can tell that he’s ready to drift off at any given minute. You bend down to press soft kisses across the expanse of his back and shoulders, your hands doing one final swoop over the ridges and bumps, quietly admiring all the hard work he had put in. You thought he was built like a greek statue before but he had turned things up a notch and you were beyond obsessed.

“I love you, you know that right?” you mumble into the back of his neck and he hums in satisfaction and pleasure. He felt so much lighter after the massage but your soft lips doing a once-over? He felt like a whole new man.

“I love you more.” he mutters and you laugh. You’ve had this competition far too many times.

“You keep telling yourself that.” you move off him and tug at the blankets, hauling them over the pair of you. He shuffles towards you, finding comfort with his face pressed against your neck and arms wrapping around your middle. You keep one hand in his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp to further help him drift off.

On a normal night, you would continue the little competition but he was beyond words at this point so you don’t speak another word. The comfortable silence and the feeling of your heart-beat lulls him to a peaceful, well-deserved slumber. You can feel his breaths slow and his grip around your waist loosen and you’re not too far behind him, allowing the sleep to take you over as well.

Your sleep is perfect and you wake up pretty early in the morning. Thankfully, before Abde so you get your chance to execute your plan. Somehow, during the night, you ended up back in your usual sleep position with you on top. The strong arm around your waist is still there but his grip is iron. It takes a while but you manage to wiggle out without waking him, although he does furrow his eyebrows and groan softly before quieting back down. 

You tiptoe to the bathroom and try to freshen up as quietly as you can manage. No makeup but you do your best to wash away the tiredness from your face before making your way back to the main bedroom. Not ideal but he is already up, wiping his eyes as he scans the room, a little confused with your absence but his eyes fill with relief when he sees you.

“Anjo?” you don’t respond just yet, slowly removing your sleep shirt to reveal what you had intended to treat him with yesterday. You supposed today would work just fine as well. His eyes widen a little but he’s quick to regain his composure and smirks as you saunter over to the queen-sized bed. The underwear really didn’t leave much to the imagination but you still heated up under his gaze, he made no effort to hide the way he was undressing you with his eyes.

“All for me?” he asks, as if he didn’t already know that answer very very well.

“You didn’t think I was going to let my captain go unrewarded for his work, did you?’ you pout as you place your legs on either side of his thighs. His hands rest on your hips and he draws small circles with the pads of his thumbs as he awaits your next move.

He has an idea before you can do anything though, carefully reaching the side of the bed frame to grab his gold medal. He places it around your neck and relaxes back into the bed, hands back on your hips.

“Come on, anjo. I think I’ve waited long enough…” 

heyyyyy... how y'all doing... I think I've got my motivation back lmfao. Stay in tuned for part two!!!!

[eldritchelfwriter]

Getting very close to releasing the next part of Aylin & Isobel's love story ... catch up before chapter 3 is released.

EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER 2

Isobel returns from the welcome feast in a daze.

She has always been considered ‘sensible’. That’s what her governess said – that’s what everyone always says about her.

Her reputation for being level-headed, with a ‘good head on her shoulders’ is the very reason her father trusts her with the day-to-day running of Moonrise Towers while he governs their little area.

And so, like a problem to be solved in the Moonrise book of accounts, Isobel attempts to apply logic to the facts.

One; she has met Dame Aylin for all of five seconds.

Two; she has spoken one sentence to her.

And, three; she is head-over-heels, wildly in love with her.

It makes no sense whatsoever, and yet Isobel is absolutely sure of it. She has never felt the like of it in her life – the way her heart grew ten times in her chest, and her whole world suddenly seeming to orient anew around their honoured guest.

And Aylin is no ordinary guest, but the daughter of her own goddess!

It’s utterly preposterous, as well as inappropriate, Isobel thinks to herself, trying to admonish warm, giddy feelings that are paying no attention to her at all. It’s just a crush! Who wouldn’t have their feelings stirred when she has the body of a god and hair like threads of gold, and skin like porcelain and marble somehow made soft and supple and what would it be like if I traced each of those golden lines with my tongue – oh Moonmaiden, I’m definitely in love!

Isobel is no stranger to love, but it’s never been anything like this – nothing remotely comparable to this.

What torture the feast was, to have the love of her life (Isobel rolls her eyes at herself, but she can’t think of Aylin as anything else now) across the table from her, seated next to Balthazar, of all people, and to have to try not to openly gape at the glorious view before her.

Isobel barely ate a thing, she was so distracted. Though, considering the amount of butterflies in her stomach, food may not have gone down well anyway.

There was a moment at the feast – Isobel’s heart soars at the remembrance of it – when their eyes locked across the table, and things seemed to be expressed between them with no words whatsoever. And Isobel was sure in the moment that Dame Aylin felt the same but now … now that she is removed from the glow of her presence and feeling like a silly schoolgirl, she wonders if it was all in her imagination.

She would have tried to speak with her at the feast’s end, but Dame Aylin was quickly inundated with admirers seeking Selune’s blessing. She seemed to catch Isobel’s eye – more wordless feelings expressed, this time of regret that she couldn’t be with Isobel – or so Isobel imagined – and then turned away to fulfil her duty.

The question, now that Isobel has checked herself thoroughly for illness and confirmed that she is quite, quite well – physically at least, is what to do now?

Should she wait up? Should she perhaps wait in Dame Aylin’s suite across the hallway, for her return?

Foolishness, pure foolishness! she admonishes herself. Her father will be returning shortly, and while she is an adult, to be so brazen in front of him when she also appears to be possibly losing her mind may be an unwise course of action.

The logical part of her wins and she decides to go to sleep and hope sanity returns in the morning.

And so she prepares herself for bed, wondering how on earth she will be able to sleep at all with her heart racing so fast, knowing that Aylin will be sleeping this night just across the hallway.

She lights a lamp and begins her evening prayers, which feature a fair few musings about these sudden feelings and the state of her own mind – when she remembers she is talking to Aylin’s own mother! Is that even … appropriate?!

Fortunately her attention is pulled away from these disturbing thoughts by noise, coming from the lounge that the private bedrooms open into. The thought that it could be Dame Aylin sends cascades of giddiness throughout her body. Unable to bear the thought of missing seeing her, despite everything she had already decided, she steadies herself and creeps to her door, opening it just a fraction to check.

She can see nothing at all from her hidden vantage, but she can hear familiar male voices talking softly by her father’s desk. She grits her teeth at the sound of Balthazar’s mutterings – why he should have her father’s ear all day and night, she does not know, but her father appears to have a blind spot when it comes to the wizard.

And then she hears it, piercing the air and her heart; her father’s voice, uncharacteristically hard: “I do not like the way that woman looked at my daughter, Balthazar.”

Isobel blinks in shock. She had no idea of their … whatever it is between them, being observed by others. And she thought she had been discreet!

“Isobel is a grown woman, Ketheric, as is Dame Aylin,” Balthazar points out, and for the first time in her life, Isobel agrees with him.

“Dame Aylin is not just a ‘grown woman,’ she is an immortal,” her father growls.

“An immortal, who will be gone in a few days,” Balthazar says smoothly.

And then they are silent but for the rustling of papers while Isobel seethes behind her door. She is of half a mind to march in and tell them they can both mind their own business, and watch their mouths at the same time – that is her soul mate they are they are talking about!

But after a moment’s consideration, she instead quietly closes her door. She would be mortified if Dame Aylin returned to her guest suite and walked in on such a scene, for a scene is what it would quickly become.

And she doesn’t want her father around, poisoning her first meeting when they get to speak face-to-face properly, if that is truly how he feels – nor Balthazar.

Isobel reasons that it has been only five hours since she first met Aylin, surely waiting a few more hours until morning will make no difference in the long run?

[lovelivecat]

Helllllo! This is my fic for @emptycauldron ‘s prompt game. I chose number 5: “you look pale- well paler than usual”

I added this gif and don’t know how to get rid of it 😭

The day had been completely normal. Students where going in and out of class, and to and from meals. Friends where hanging out in the hallways and chatting about basic things like they’re day, or the weather.

And that was exactly what Ominus and Sebastian where doing. The two best friend stood in the library chatting amongst themselves.

“When Sharp looked at me, I thought he was about to set me on fire!”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been talking you would have used the right ingredient. And then your potion wouldn’t have exploded all over the ceiling.”

Sebastian’s huffed in defeat as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“You aren’t very good at potions either Ominus.”

“At least mine has never exploded.”

The blond smirked. Even though he couldn’t see it, he knew his friend was sporting a very satisfying frown. It was common for Ominus to win there silly arguments but it still felt nice.

There was a ringing sound indicating the start of the next period.

“Shit! Ominus we need to go! Hecats going to have my head if I’m late again!”

Sebastian started running out of the room with his friend right behind him, both with looks of panic on their faces.

They where almost there when Ominus needed to stop for air. Sebastian nodded to his friend and then kept running. Right as Ominus was about to keep going he heard a familiar voice.

“Leave him alone!”

It was you. He walked towards the sound of your voice with his wand outstretched. His wand told him you where standing in front of a first year who was lying on the floor, blocking him from three other girls who had backed him into a corner.

“Oh ya? Well what are you going to do about it?”

The girl that Ominus now recognized as Violet Mcdowll had started to draw her wand.

“What’s going on here?”

Ominus voice echoed through the hall.

“You wouldn’t want Headmaster Black to hear about this would you? I’m not sure he’d be very happy about it.”

Violet grimaced as she tucked her wand away. Before leaving she grabbed one of your shoulders and pulled you closer so she could whisper into your ear.Her grip was tight as she spoke

“You will regret this. Your blind friend cant save you forever.”

She let go with a little shove. And walked away with her two friends following close behind.

After they had made it out of the hallway Ominus stepped forward, grabbed your wrist and started running towards class. The two of you got a mouthful from Hecat for your late arrival, but got off with a warning due to your normally perfect record.Sebastian however, was not so lucky. He had gotten two days of detention.

⏰ —————————————————— ⏰

Ominus and Sebastian where standing outside of the library together that afternoon. Sebastian was serving his detention with Madam Skribner, and Ominus was seeing him off.

“This is so unfair. How come you didn’t get detention?”

“Maybe because this was only the first time I was late and not the fifth.”

“It’s still not fair!”

Sebastian huffed and then turned towards the door that lead into the Library. He raised his hand to open the door but paused before he grabbed the handle. He swiveled around and dropped his hand, his face scrunched up in thought.

“Does y/n have a birthday soon?”

The question had caught Ominus off guard. Where had that come from? When Ominus didn’t answer Sebastian continued

“I thought it wasn’t for a few months but I heard some girls talking about surprising her earlier.”

A thought creeped into the back of the blinds mind. One he couldn’t get to go away, no matter how hard he tried.

“Who where the girls who heard talking?”

There was a hint of urgency in his voice that Sebastian picked up on.

“I didn’t recognize two of them but I’m pretty sure Violet Mcdowll was one of them. I didn’t know those two where friends? Violets not exactly a nice person.”

Ominus felt the blood drain from his face. He had heard her warning earlier in the hall, the one she whispered to you. Could this be related?

“Are you ok? You look pale- well paler than usual.”

“We need to find y/n. Where does she normally go after class?”

Ominus was starting to panic now.

“Dude calm down. Why are you so worried?”

“Where is she?”

Sebastian was startled by his friends sudden change in demeanor. It took him a second to respond but he eventually came up with something.

“I think she heads back to the common room.”

“Come on.”

Ominus tugged the brunette by the wrist and pulled him along as he ran to the dungeons. The whole way there Sebastian was yelling questions at his friend.

“Why are we running? What’s wrong?”

Ominus only stopped once they had reached the entrance to the common room. Just as he was about to enter he heard a thump and giggling.

He let go of his friend and raced towards the sound. After turning a few corners he finally found the source. His wand began to dictate the sene for him.

Violet and her friends where playing a fun game of levioso, Decendo, and Depulso with your limp body. Your head was bleeding in certain spots where you had hit the wall the hardest and your body was covered in bruises. There was A bump on your torso where one of your ribs was broken. Another one of your ribs was sticking clean out of your body at a weird angle. One of your legs seemed to have been snapped in half and your wand was lying on the floor, far out of your reach.

Ominus’s stomach churned at the *sight* (you know what I mean) and Sebastian almost vomited.One of the girls cast Levioso on you again but before she could cast another spell Sebastian cast “Expleliarmus” causing the girls wand to fly out of her hand and sent it clattering to the floor.

Before anyone could react Ominus cast “Accio” on your dangling body sending you gliding over to him. He gently released the spell and guide your body to the floor, sitting on the floor he placed you in his lap.

The amount of worry built up inside of him was immeasurable. He was glad he didn’t have to see your blood stained robes and crooked white bones. Sebastian glanced over to you, as soon as he saw you where save he assumed a battle stance and was prepared to kill the person who had done this to you.

Most people would be scared if they where facing three opponent alone but Sebastian was not most people. He had faced of against more than three in crossed wands and with the anger coursing through him right now he could take on a troll.

He started casting an array of offensive spells at three trio of girls. Violet and one of the others successfully blocked the attack but the third got hit square in the chest with a “bombarda”. He continued to duel the remaining two, taking his time to prolong they’re suffering.

It had only been a few minutes but Sebastian already had them on the ground. Even though they where already defeated he continued to berate them with spell after spell. He wanted them to feel the same pain they had inflicted on you. He wanted them to writhe in agony. He wanted to remove their bones from their bodies. And he would have done just that if he hadn’t been stoped.

“Sebastian! That’s enough!”

The brunette was snapped out of his trance. He turned around and saw you laying limp in Ominus lap. You had spilled a lot of blood onto his friends robes and your breaths where short and shallow.

“We need to get her to the hospital wing!”

“She can’t aparate like this!”

“Fine. Follow me, I know a short cut!”

Sebastian ran past his friend looking behind to make sure he was following before sprinting around corners.

Ominus had re-cast “levioso” on you so they could move faster. He was also worried that the movement while running would only make your injuries worse.

Sebastian’s short cut payed off because they got there a lot faster than the would have. Nurse Blainly sprung into action at the sight of you.

“What in Merlins name happened!?”

The boys quickly explained while you where set up on a bed.

They wanted to stay by your side but Nurse Blainly ushered them out of the room and into the hall she assured them she would call for them as soon as they where allowed.

In the meantime they where going to spend some “Quality time” with Violet and her friends.

Thank you for reading ❤️

[restwellsoon]

Omg hello my love!! Happy Birthday, happy anniversary, and happy writing anniversary!! I love you so much and I'm so excited about A Token of Sleep!!!!!!!

Okay so not to be completely predictable but uhhhh may I please ask for Royalty!AU daydreams with Shouto? Either spicy or sweet, no preference!!

Thank you again for doing this event!! I love you and I can't wait to read all your drabbles!! 💖✨💕

Hi bb 🥺 Thank you thank you thank you and ily!!!!

My queen asks for something, then she shall receive it. Hope this hits the spot!!

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

Summary: You and Shouto discuss the upcoming tournament and what it means for your relationship.

/ “I want every man–any and every challenger, really–to know their place when you walk into the room. I want the hopeless women of the court to let their feelings go. No, it’s more than want, darling. It’s a wild and vicious need to prove that there was no mistake–that this was not chance, not luck and most definitely not for political gain. You’ve had my heart since we first met. Winning your favor in public is the least I can do to declare my intentions.”

Warnings: Royalty!AU, a tease of smut

“It’d be so easy, wouldn’t it?” 

Your fingers fiddled with the silk sheets that draped across the expanse of Shouto’s bed. You thought that the fabrics that your father imported from foreign lands were fine, but they were nothing in comparison to the luxury that the Todoroki royal family had access to.

“You could just snap your fingers and call off this silly tournament. There’d be no reason for either of us to wake up so early in the morning. No reason for us to spend tonight apart. No reason to waste our time when we both know what we want.”

“And do you know what it is that I want?”

His question placed temporary doubt in your mind until his smile eased it. He had a penchant for wickedness that only you knew.

“I want every man–any and every challenger, really–to know their place when you walk into the room. I want the hopeless women of the court to let their feelings go. No, it’s more than want, darling. It’s a wild and vicious need to prove that there was no mistake–that this was not chance, not luck and most definitely not for political gain. You’ve had my heart since we first met. Winning your favor in public is the least I can do to declare my intentions.”

“You make it sound as if you don’t deserve me, Prince.”

“Were you not the one that wrote, and I quote, ‘Today I’ve met a man so mediocre that even his angelic features weren’t enough to entertain me. He believes his title to be of such importance that he’s focused on polishing that instead of basic etiquette-” 

Before Shouto could repeat the truly offensive and perhaps borderline treasonous words that you had written, you tossed the sheet at him, but his magic had burnt through it before it could hide your embarrassment. He grinned back at you through a smoking hole before tossing it aside. You shivered from the cool air of his chambers.

“‘I’d be more impressed if the third prince had any prowess in the bedroom. He seems the type to turn kissing into an appointment and to turn lovemaking into a chore. Perhaps if he found himself a lover, there’d be some sort of spark about him, or at the very least, there’d be enough rumors in the court to keep us occupied for months.’”

His body was on yours, warming it up within seconds, the added heat of your chagrin crept up your chest.

“I’ve told you time and time again that I was a fool to write such baseless comments.” 

“You only choose to recant now that I’ve proven you wrong of all your assumptions.” You couldn’t stand that look of haughtiness that stared down at you, but luckily they drifted downwards in distraction. 

Shouto smirked at the sound of your frustrated huff as he eyed the necklace he gave you–a matching set with your teardrop earrings–, the end jewel dipping with a tease between your bosom. He peppered kisses down your neck to follow it.

“Trying to decide upon what favor you’d like for tomorrow?”

You should have expected that the prince wouldn’t be satisfied with a simple rose from your garden.

He gave no answer as a rogue hand moved south, pushing past fabric to get to a place that would truly make you squirm. The material was soft and sleek and hugged every precious curve that he’d grown to acquaint himself with. Most importantly, it was damp. His index finger slid across it twice to be certain, going slower the second time at your coos.

His fingers latched onto the side of your panties and gave them a tug. You were too distracted to realize.

With heat on your cheeks, your words were for naught. “Surely you jest with your actions, my love.”

His smile made you doubtful.

A Token of Sleep | event / Todoroki Masterlist / Rest's Main M.list

[kellanved-ammanas]

Valentine's Week Fluff Day Two: Spy/Soldier - Valentine's Day

Day two of @dontneedadispenser Valentine's event.

~

The saying went ‘all was fair in love and war’ or something like that, implying that they were similar. The problem was, Soldier knew war and was good at it, but how was he supposed to navigate love? The goal of war was to win but how did one win at love? Have those feelings be reciprocated? Go on a date with the loved person? Marriage? None of those felt right. What did he know though? He was a soldier, good at war and love was not war no matter what any silly hippie saying wanted to claim.

Normally he would talk about matters of intellect and/or emotion with Spy. He was good at those things and could often explain them in a way that made at least a little bit of sense to Soldier. But how was he supposed to ask Spy the best way to fulfill his desire to make Spy his Valentine without blundering it? It simply didn’t seem possible as Spy would likely figure out his intent if he were to try to lie and say he was thinking of asking someone else to be his Valentine; Spy was smart like that. And Soldier didn’t like to lie to his allies anyway, it was un-American. So… what should he do? Well there was one other person on base who claimed to be good at romance and he just so happened to be related to Spy so he was probably Soldier’s best bet.

Finding an opportunity to talk to Scout proved to be difficult as he for some reason didn’t have a proper daily routine – how did he live his life so? – and often was with others when Soldier did find him, making a private conversation impossible. But finally, after a pointer from Demo, Soldier changed his morning patrol – an uncomfortable change but with Valentine’s day less than a week away, it had to be done – so he could wait by the base’s doors for when Scout came out for his morning run.

Scout not having a set time for this meant he had a wait for a while but Scout did eventually come out. He paused at the sight of Soldier standing by the door. “Uh, hey pal, you need something?”

If he weren’t already standing at attention, Soldier would’ve shifted to do so. “Yes. I wish to court Spy. Specifically I wish to ask him to be my Valentine this upcoming Valentine’s day. I however do not know how to do this.”

“So… you’re asking me?”

“Yes, private, I am asking you. Why else would I have sought you out?”

“Uh… yeah but why would I know how to help you with that?”

“Because I have heard you claim to be good at romance and he is your father and thus presumably you would know. If you do not however, I guess I will just have to figure out how to do it by myself.” Soldier turned to leave but before he could take more than a step though, Scout ran around to intercept him.

“Nah, nah, I can totally help. I am an expert when it comes to romance, trust me. And my dad, yeah, I totally know what you should say when asking him to be your Valentine or whatever.”

“Very well then. I’m listening.”

“All right. First, you need a bucket of chicken…”

Valentine’s Day

Finding a live chicken to put in a bucket had been the hardest part and didn’t seem to make much sense. At first he’d thought that Scout had meant a bucket of fried chicken but that couldn’t possibly be correct as Spy had expressed distaste for eating fried foods and specifically fried chicken in the past. Grilled chicken had been his next thought but again, Soldier had never seen him eat any even when it had been available. A gift of food he did not like wouldn’t make sense and thus that left only a live chicken in a bucket.

Maybe Spy wanted a chicken as a pet? Soldier could understand that, the hen he’d finally managed to acquire was quite pretty. She did not like the bucket much though and he had almost no choice but to put a lid – with air holes – on it to make her stay. After double checking to make sure it was secure, he lifted up the bucket and started for Spy’s room.

As usual, it took Spy a few seconds to answer upon knocking, but it never took too long. “Ah, greetings, Soldier. It’s always a pleasure. Come on in, I suppose.” He stepped back and Soldier followed him in.

Spy’s room was quite big, certainly more than big enough to house a pet or two. So that had to be what the chicken was for. Especially since Spy didn’t currently have any pets, making so that it must get lonely in here at night. In that case, it was quite thoughtful of Scout to suggest getting him an animal companion.

Before getting to that though… once the door was closed, Soldier straightened himself as he turned to face Spy. “Hello, cupcake!” Scout had insisted he call Spy a French nickname here but Soldier liked ‘cupcake’ better. “Va te faire foutre*.” No doubt he’d pronounced that wrong. Scout had insisted it was a very nice flirty thing to say though and thus he had to say it to Spy here so hopefully it had at least still been understandable. “Will you be my Valentine?” He lifted the bucket, holding it towards Spy.

Spy didn’t take it though. He took a sharp step back instead.

Had Soldier done or said something wrong? Perhaps he’d mispronounced the French so bad he’d accidentally said something offensive. That was French’s fault for being such a nonsensical language… but still Soldier had tried so hard. He’d wanted this to go right so badly.

“Why would you… wait no. Scout put you up to this, didn’t he?” Spy sounded almost angry. Though it was always hard to tell with him. Not that it was ever easy with anyone but always harder with Spy. Perhaps because Soldier wanted him to like him so bad.

“Correct. I asked him for help on what to say.” Soldier pulled the bucket back towards himself hugging it.

“You asked him for… oh. You are serious in your Valentine’s request?”

“Yes, sir. Did I do something wrong?” He wanted to deflate but would not let himself. He could handle defeat even in the pursuit of love. … Perhaps he should’ve stuck solely to war though, it was what he was good at.

“Y-- no, no you did nothing wrong.” Spy stepped closer to put a hand on Soldier’s shoulder. “I would love to be your Valentine.”

“Really?” Soldier almost couldn’t believe it. He’d been so sure he’d done or said something wrong.

“Really. Word of advice though, in the future, don’t ask for Scout’s help in such matters.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s just say he is not the most reliable of people. By the way, what’s in the bucket? It’s a gift, I assume?”

Soldier stepped back so he could pull the lid off the bucket. “A chicken.” He titled it, allowing said chicken to jump down to the floor. She ran a short distance away before stopping to shake out her feather and start preening herself. She really was a pretty chicken.

Spy looked to be admiring her too. “And why did you bring me a bucket with a chicken in it when asking me out?”

“Scout told me to.”

“He specified a live chicken?”

“No. He could not have meant anything else though because you do not like to eat chicken. Perhaps that is because you want one as a pet.” That made sense actually because Soldier would not want to eat raccoon meat after owning them as pets for so long. “I made sure to get one that will lay eggs too. So you will have free eggs from here on out.”

“I suppose I will. Thanks… I think.”

“You are very welcome! But… now that you are my Valentine, what are we supposed to do next?” Soldier had never really considered what would happen if he got this far.

“We go on a date. I assume you did not make reservations anywhere, correct?”

“Correct.” A date did sound nice though.

“That is fine. I can handle that part.” Naturally, Spy was better at these types of things. Hopefully he would be willing to teach Soldier some now too.

~

*This means 'go fuck yourself'.