#why do i insist on writing long things on my phone I DON'T LIKE DOING IT I GOTTA STOP

[muirmarie]

“the rust that grew between telephones”

MASH; H/M

This is the one where the war ends, and they each go their separate ways, and there are too many almosts that stand between them, too much possibility. They like each other now, they do, but they're not friends, not quite, not just - they've never managed to just be friends, even though they tried their best, even though circumstances and proximity and how very much they liked each other forced them to try.

They're back in the states, and for the first couple years, they keep tabs on each other purely through the gossip chain. It's easy, because other people always bring up the other without them asking. It's easy, because they never have to ask.

Have you heard that Margaret is getting out? they say. Have you heard that Hawkeye finally left Crabapple Cove and got a new position a few hours away from his dad? they say. Have you heard about Margaret's new guy? Have you heard about Hawkeye's new place? Have you heard that Margaret moved to a different state? Have you heard that Hawkeye's giving a talk at this conference?

And then they see each other, at a wedding, at a funeral. Something that brings some of the 4077 back together, and oh, emotions are high, and oh, it's so easy to fall back into old patterns. They've been back for two years. They've never left.

They sleep together, and then, before they part ways, they - still warm and happy and relaxed and so pleased to be back in each other's orbit - decide they should do a better job of staying in touch.

It's a terrible idea.

They do it anyway.

Letters scribbled between surgeries, phone calls at odd hours to account for time differences and night shifts, photos and recipes and funny newspaper comics cut out and all pressed together into envelopes, oh it's easy, isn't it.

(They've never been easy.)

Margaret wants a child; Margaret wants her career; Margaret wants a partner; Margaret wants wants wants.

(Hawkeye wants to not be afraid of wanting.)

Margaret gets engaged.

Hawkeye's dad gets sick.

He doesn't tell her.

They're still talking, is the thing. Her fiancé, who she likes well enough, who's her match in almost every way, who has the same goals as she does, who respects her, who cares about her - he doesn't like how much she stays in contact with Hawkeye, but she thinks maybe he knows a losing battle when he sees one, because he never pushes for an ultimatum.

(She's never told him she loves him, but she thinks maybe she could learn to, thinks it could be nice to grow into loving him. He's never said it either, but they could be something, couldn't they? Couldn't they be something?)

So she and Hawkeye are still talking, and if Hawkeye keeps the conversation on her, well. She likes to talk enough.

And if he sounds - if he sounds -

He'll talk when he's ready, she thinks. He's given her grace often enough, after all. Although he's kicked her in the rear enough that she has no qualms about getting in the game if she needs to. She doesn't think she needs to, and then BJ calls her.

I'm worried about Hawk, he says. Me, too, she says. Have you heard about his dad? he says.

She takes the first flight out.

The thing is that loving people is easy, and choosing to be with them can be hard, hard, hard.

This is the one where Margaret chooses for both of them, because Hawkeye can do this alone, he can, and he has been, but this is the one where he doesn't have to, and he doesn't have to be afraid of asking for what he wants, and they don't have to be anything more than this, anything more than friends -

But then, they've never been just friends, have they. Proximity, and circumstances, and high emotions, and oh, they like each other so much. Oh, it's always been hard, holding each other at arm's length.

(They've never been easy, but not loving each other would always be too hard.)

[clockwayswrites]

So far this file is called 'birdritch'. Those of you who follow my art tumblr might know where this is going. I needed something light to write, been a low day. There has been zero editing or reading through and it is past 2am, sorry and enjoy! (Don't need any typos pointed out, ty.)

---

“You are supposed to be home.”

Danny blinked up from his work to find Lucius Fox standing in the doorway of the lab. The man had the sport of expression one wore around a child who had just done something disappointing.

(Danny was used to the look, even if it had been a long time since he'd been a kid. Or seen his parents, for that mater.)

“Okay, but,” Danny started, “we agreed that I could start at ten and take my eight hours and one for lunch—”

“A mandatory one hour for lunch away from your desk,” Lucius interrupted.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been doing that! I’ve been eating out on the rooftop garden or even leaving the building and eating out or taking lunch to the park. I’ve been behaving, Lucius, I promise.”

Lucius raised a judgmental brow. “It’s after eight, Danny.”

“What? No. I have an alarm on my phone and everything… okay, well, that only works if my phone is charged.” Danny jabbed uselessly at his phone screen. He followed the charger, which was plugged in, all the way to the wall. He resisted the urge to let his head fall against the wall. “I guess Leslie fried the outlet again or something. I’m sorry, Lucius.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” Lucius said, “but only because, one, I know you have been trying, and two, I am going to buy you the most embarrassing alarm clock I can find and mount it to something in this lab. Now it is late and I am going home and so are you, Mr. Fenton.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said and made an exaggerate show of packing up his backpack, dead phone and all.

Lucius gave a little snort at the antics, but left with a ‘get home safe, Danny’. After his boss was gone, Danny took the time to actually make sure everything was in his bag and secure. He still didn’t get why he couldn’t just work late, but apparently WE had something of an insistence of work life balance. According to Lucius, Danny crossed the line too often and so was being kept in line. (Danny didn’t think mention he didn’t have much of a life, literally and otherwise, would help his case.)

Still, Danny mused as he stepped inside the empty elevator, the rules did keep him from becoming his parents. And that was a very, very good thing! Being a mad scientist in Gotham usually ended up landing someone in Arkham. It was just that after the chaos that Danny grew up with, going back to his empty apartment was depressing. It wasn’t as if Danny never got out and did things, it was just that all those things were mostly on the weekend. Most days he just didn’t have a reason to go back to his place.

There was no getting out of it tonight, the great and powerful Fox had spoken and Danny knew better than to try and sneak back up. He lifted his hands over his head, stretching as the elevator descended the last few floors. Oh well, at least it was before ten. He could still grab something on the way home and have a full, warm meal to take his pain meds on. By the pull along his forearm he would need them.

“Night, Bill,” Danny said as he passed the security guard who was on the evening shift. He got another ‘get home safe’ in response and gave a little wave in reply over his shoulder.

Even after the few years in Gotham, it still amused Danny how much everyone wished everyone else some sort of safe travels here. As much as Gotham was a city of hardened realists, there still was so much hope about it. Hope people got home safely, that the Bats would get where they were need in time, that the city would rebuild again and again and again. The undercurrent of hope was so strong that Danny could practically feel it moving through the city like a river.

It had been one of the reasons Danny had taken the job.

He could use hope.

He also had been very careful not to look too closely into it all. While Danny’s early life may have been dominated by the occult, he tried to stay away from it these days outside of the necessary visits to the Realm for his health. As much as the Far Frozen was full of ghost yetis, Frostbite was still a being of science and being there felt more like a cold vacation to his weird relatives than anything else those days.

Danny was actually worried that he was getting close to needing another visit. He shouldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t actually due back for another three months, but the thought of visiting Frostbite had been pulling at the back of Danny’s mind. The most annoying part of it all, is that there wasn’t any concrete reason that Danny felt he needed to go, just a lot of little things: the ache was deeper in his bones, he’d been missing noticing little things, his near constant vertigo was worse, and, oddest of all, he had been feeling chilled.

Maybe he should just take a long weekend and go for a quick visit.

Lucius would undoubtedly approve of the break.

Tomorrow, Danny would ask tomorrow.

(As long as he remembered.)

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After Bradley finally breaks things off with his girlfriend just days before the start of a deployment, he expects a few lonely months of nobody writing to him or waiting for his return. But the fateful arrival of a package from a class of fourth graders learning about aviation changes everything.

Warnings: Fluff, language, breakup angst

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley had his duffle bag open on his bed, tidy stacks of his uniform components, flight suits, and underwear lined up next to it. He had his checklist in front of him. He liked to be as organized as possible.

"Are you even listening to me? I thought we were going out to dinner."

He looked up from his partially packed toiletry bag into the annoyed eyes of Vanessa where she stood on the other side of the bed. He was seven months into this relationship, and sometimes he wondered why either of them still bothered. She knew his routine by now. She knew what his deployments were like, but she had absolutely no patience for any of it.

"Ness, I'm leaving in four days. I just need to focus on this for a few minutes so I know what I need to buy before Wednesday, and then we can go out and eat."

"It's already seven o'clock. I thought you'd have finished packing by now," she replied with a pout and a glare. "Every nice restaurant is going to have a long wait now, because I'm just going to go ahead and assume that you didn't make a reservation anywhere."

He took a deep breath and let it out before pressing his lips together. What he really wanted was to order something for delivery, cuddle on the couch, watch a movie and have the first round of hot, goodbye sex. But she'd never go for it now. Apparently he'd already fucked up for the night. 

"No, I didn't make a reservation," he said calmly, and she rolled her eyes and reached for her phone. "I really don't even feel like going out. I'll be gone for months, stuck in a tiny bunk or a loud mess hall. I'd like to stay in tonight where it's quiet. Just me and you."

But she wasn't listening at all. "Let me see if Woodmere has any tables left," she muttered. "If not there, then I can try The Landmark." She looked as beautiful as she always did, but he couldn't even stand the sight of her right now.

"Ness. I want to stay in."

She groaned and looked him in the eye. "Of course you do. You always want to stay in. You always want to decompress or read a book. That's not healthy, you know that, right? I shouldn't have to force you out of your comfort zone all the time."

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. His job was demanding, both mentally and physically. He usually preferred quiet over loud, because his own thoughts started to buzz when she dragged him out all over the place. And now she was glaring at him again. "Are you even going to miss me?" he asked softly, afraid of the answer. "You haven't said so one time since I told you about this deployment."

She heaved a deep and annoyed sigh. "You're deployed so frequently, Bradley, it's like you're the government's bitch. And if the Navy is going to insist upon eating up taxpayer money, the least they could do is pay you more."

His skin started to crawl as she went off about his career like always, but he'd honestly had enough. He raised his voice louder and asked once again, "Are you even going to miss me?"

Vanessa scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course I'm going to miss you. What kind of question is that? I'll be bored every weekend, waiting for you to get back, like usual. I almost never go out when you're deployed."

Bradley's heart started to pound in a way that made his palms sweat and his stomach turn. "Jesus, Vanessa. I asked if you're going to miss me. Not miss going out every weekend."

When she hesitated for a beat, he reached out to brace his hand on his headboard. "Yes, Bradley. I am going to miss you. Okay? Happy?"

"Fuck, no. I'm not happy Vanessa." And that was the bottom line right there. The absolute truth. And it didn't hurt to say it, rather he immediately felt better. He knew he would miss the sporadic emails and the phone calls and the dirty pictures and the reunion sex. The upcoming weeks would be harder without those things to look forward to, but at least he'd come home to his own place where he could do what he wanted instead of what he was told. He wouldn't have to listen to her negativity. "I think we need to break up."

Her eyes went wide with shock. "Excuse me?"

Bradley let go of the bed and ran his hand over his face. "You heard me, Ness. This isn't working. For either of us."

"Don't call me Ness," she snapped, immediately turning toward his bedroom door. "You're not my boyfriend anymore." She paused briefly, just long enough to say, "Fuck you," and then she was gone. 

He sat on the edge of his bed for a couple minutes, but it didn't take long to sort through his feelings. The immediate sense of calm that he felt had him convinced he'd done the right thing. There was no shared living space. There was no ring. There was no real commitment. Maybe he'd always known why that was the case. 

So he packed up his bag and made a shopping list, and when his stomach started to growl, he ordered dinner for himself from his favorite restaurant. He didn't cry, and he didn't worry about having to do anything he didn't want to do.

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

The first few weeks of his deployment were great. He spent a lot of time in the air, and he flirted a bit with some of the women who approached him in the gym on the aircraft carrier. He jerked off while he thought about whomever he fucking wanted to. He didn't spend very much time reflecting on his relationship with Vanessa other than to acknowledge that it wasn't much of a relationship at all. In the moments where he thought maybe he missed her, he realized he just missed the idea of having someone who cared about him.

He was about a month in when he realized the attractive woman who always touched his arm in the gym was actually married, and he was not all about that. He was also maybe kind of getting tired of masturbating which was a depressing thought. He was bored, and he was lonely, and other than randomly hooking up with someone, he figured his best bet was finding a book or something to read. 

When he made his way to dinner, he heard everyone talking about the helicopter that had landed on deck less than an hour ago stacked full of containers of mail. There was a line of officers trailing down the hallway adjacent to the mess hall, everyone waiting patiently to pick up parcels from their loved ones. Since Bradley had basically nobody who would think to write to him, he made his way toward the food instead. 

His tray was piled high with everything he could get his hands on, and when he looked for somewhere to sit, he had to deftly avoid that stacked lieutenant who had a husband at home. He found a table off in the corner and devoured his dinner alone. When he stood to drop off his empty dishes and tray, some petty officers entered the cavernous room to drop off unclaimed mail. 

"Harper, Jonathan! Pauley, Vincent! Dixon, Jennifer! Sutter, Wesley! Bradshaw, Bradley!"

He was more than a little intrigued as he made his way up along with a handful of others, and then a white envelope and a small cardboard box were thrust into his hands. The envelope was addressed to him by name in familiar chicken scratch that made him smile. He shouldn't have counted Natasha out, especially when his birthday was in a few days. 

He tore into the envelope as he made his way back to his bunk. It contained a very short letter along with a coupon for buy one get one free steak dinners at her favorite restaurant with a post-it stuck to the back. 

This is your birthday present. Now when you take me out for my birthday when you get home, you only have to pay half as much. You're welcome.

He snorted as he unlocked his bunk door and tossed everything from Nat onto the small nightstand. And then he examined the box. It wasn't addressed to him. Not really. It was addressed to 'A Deployed US Naval Aviator' in tidy handwriting. Then he noticed the return address was from an elementary school in Mira Mesa, and his curiosity got the best of him.

Bradley sat on the edge of his bed and tore gently into the packaging to find the box was jam packed with items and overflowing with envelopes. He tipped the box, and everything went cascading out onto his narrow bed. There were a lot of snacks, and a pack of trail mix caught his eye, making his stomach growl.

"I just fed you," he muttered but ripped into the snack anyway, dumping half of it into his mouth in one go. He was eyeing the envelopes carefully, each one distinctly unique. Some had names written on them, and some had little doodles or pictures, but they definitely seemed to be from a class of kids who went to the school. He sifted through them until he found a slightly larger, more official looking envelope which once again said To: A Deployed US Naval Aviator.

He finished his snack, silently thanking the class of kids and their teacher, and then he opened the big envelope. He pulled out a typed up letter which was folded around a few photos that slid onto his lap. Then he started to read.

Dear United States Naval Aviator,

First of all, thank you for your service. Second, let us introduce ourselves. We are one of the fourth grade classes from Mira Mesa Elementary School, and we have been learning all about aviation for the last month or so. We have combined our science, math and social studies classes into one unit all about flying, and we have learned so much. We really wanted to share some of what we learned with you in the hopes that you might be able to help us learn even more!

Each student in the class has included a letter filled with information and some questions. If you have some free time and are inclined to do so, we would love to hear back from you. (No pressure!) There are plenty of thoughtful questions that my students would appreciate more information about. (Once again, only if you want to!) And I for one would love to give them the chance to show off what they learned to a professional. (I'm just a proud teacher!)

Thank you very much for indulging our curiosity thus far, and we hope to hear back from you. I'll include my email address just in case you have any questions or would prefer to reply that way. Otherwise you can send mail directly to the address for the school along with my name, and it will get to us. We hope we are about to dazzle you with our letters, and we wish you well on your deployment.

Sincerely,

The best fourth graders you will ever meet along with their teacher

Bradley was chuckling as he finished reading. Of course he would take the time to look at all of the notes from the kids and send back a response. It wasn't like he'd be tied up talking to Vanessa. This little project would keep him busy when he had nothing else to do, and besides, this was the kind of shit he would have thought was outlandishly cool when he was a fourth grader himself. 

He read and reread the name and accompanying email address at the bottom of the page. This teacher sounded charming, and he'd only read three paragraphs from her. He flipped the page over to double check that she hadn't written anything more, already wishing she had. Then he picked up the photos that had landed on his thigh and started to flip through them.

First he saw a group of kids outside in the bright San Diego sunlight, lined up and throwing paper airplanes. Then he flipped to one where some of the kids were sitting at their desks building more elaborate planes out of pieces of foam. There was another photo of the class on some sort of field trip, but it was the last photo in the stack that had him sitting up a little taller and taking a closer look.

"Damn."

The kids were all lined up once again, wearing a rainbow of colors, some making silly faces. But his eyes caught on their teacher. On you. Smiling back at him from the photo like you had an amusing secret. Like you wanted to share it with him.

"Fucking gorgeous."

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

And, we're off. Oh, he thinks we are cute. Oh, he is about to be charmed even more. Thanks for pushing me out of my comfort zone a little bit with this one, and thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ you know i got a soft spot for you !!

ᝰ.ᐟ peak romance is when you realize that he's got a soft spot for you. alternatively: a headcanon post about the specific things he only does for you or the specific things you do to him that only you can get away with. ( fem!reader & sfw )

featuring osamu miya, tobio kageyama, kiyoomi sakusa author's notes damn, y'all just let hq win every poll, don't you?? haha jk, im happy to write whatever u guys wanna see. keshi's song has been stuck in my head all day (is this my socal abg transformation?? [guys im 100% viet, im allowed to make that joke]) i definitely still want to make a bllk version + if you guys like this, i'm always open to more characters <3

౨ৎ OSAMU MIYA — gives you the first and last bite of his food why it's special: osamu takes being a foodie to the next level. the man can eat, and he loves to do so. ever since elementary, his classmates and friends learned better than to ask osamu to share any of his snacks. he's not rude about it, per se, but you can tell that he packed his food with the intention of him and only him consuming it. him and atsumu even get into verbal altercations over who ate the last snack in the pantry. osamu just loves food — so it's pretty obvious that he must really love you a lot to always offer you the first bite of a meal at the restaurant he's spent weeks waiting to open.

"and anyway, that's when— hey, what the hell!" bits of rice fly out of atsumu's mouth whenever he watches osamu give you the first serving of grilled meat. you and osamu invited atsumu out to eat, to celebrate him joining the msby black jackals, and because everyone was craving bbq, you all agreed on the same restaurant (for once). osamu is naturally in charge of grilling the meats. what throws his twin off guard, though, is the fact that osamu is serving you first. "what's the matter? and finish chewing before you speak, damn." osamu huffs, before beginning to assemble portions of the side dishes on your plate as well. atsumu looks at his own empty plate before looking at osamu's empty plate. "geez, [name], how'd you do it?" you look up from your food to answer atsumu. "do what?" "this selfish, gluttonous bastard never lets anyone else eat first!" atsumu tells you, and you just laugh as osamu starts swearing at his brother. "well," you tell atsumu brightly, once his argument with osamu is settling down. "osamu's always lets me eat first. he insists, really." osamu has to tell atsumu to shut the hell up and stop whining before he doesn't get any food at all.

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA — takes pictures of you why it's special: tobio kageyama's camera roll before you consists of screenshots (some are accidental, such as the ones of his lock screen, or it's usually different athletic gear he wants to check out), photos of maps (because he is directionally challenged everywhere except for the court), and sometimes of virtual tickets (for when he actually does attend an event, usually for sports). tobio kageyama's camera roll after you consists of the same stuff, pretty much... except for the fact that there are now hundreds of photos he takes of you. he's not one to take pictures; he's a bit awkward around a camera, really, but he realizes soon after getting with you that he doesn't mind being in front of a camera as long as you're posing with him. he takes so many candids of you, like when you're washing the dishes or drifting off to sleep on the couch after bingewatching a tv show. if pictures are worth a thousand words, he's said "i love you" over a million times.

"oh my gosh, delete that!" you shriek, trying to make a mad grab for your boyfriend's phone. his reflexes are quicker, though, and he holds it out of your reach. "why would i delete it?" he asks innocently. "you look cute." the photo in question is the one he just took. the two of you ordered ramen for takeout, and yours was made spicier than usual. your lips feel swollen, and they're kind of stained red from the spices used, and the image captures that, but also highlights the tears welling up in the corner of your eyes as you're in the middle of a massive bite of noodles. "i look like i'm the thumbnail for a 'mukbangers who took it too far and died' video!" you wail. "delete it, tobio!" "but you look cute." he stands his ground, pouting a bit. "that's not fair. do not make that face." you groan, turning to look away from your boyfriend. honestly, with a face like that, it's no wonder why you couldn't force him to delete any pics of you. he's just too damn good at whittling away your resolve. "i think i'm gonna make it my lockscreen." he muses.

౨ৎ KIYOOMI SAKUSA — lets you make a mess of his things why it's special: kiyoomi is very particular about his personal belongings. he doesn't let his teammates borrow any of his training equipment. he refuses to wash his jersey with the rest of the team's, and instead, gets it professionally cleaned elsewhere. in the beginning of your relationship, kiyoomi always offered to wash the dishes, purely because he would only trust that it was truly cleaned if he could confirm that they were well scrubbed. the closer you two get, though, the more the boundaries blur. soon, his stuff gets mixed in with yours. you're doing the laundry together. he gives you his pillow when yours gets too warm. there's intimacy in that, even more so when you consider how prickly kiyoomi gets with these things.

"kiyoomi! you're home early!" fuck fuck fuck, is what's going on in your internal dialogue. you're baking a cake for dessert, only the mixer had a mind of its own, and you ended up covered in sugar, spice, and everything nice. which isn't that big of a deal. you already wiped down the counters, mopped the floors, and got started on the dishes. the only issue is that when you're at home, you have a habit of stealing kiyoomi's clothes. right now, you've still got on his sweatshirt. his nice, pristine, fresh from the laundry sweatshirt... that is now covered in nothing but flour and cake mix. you were going to wash it, honest! it's just... cleaning the kitchen took more time than you anticipated, and kiyoomi was supposed to stay at the gym for the whole day. he knows that that sweatshirt is his. you expect your boyfriend's eye to twitch, or for him to frown, or to even complain that you just ruined his very nice and outrageously priced hoodie. instead, he walks over to you, and places a kiss on your forehead. you've got flour all over you, including your hair, and surely he's got some flour on his lips now. he doesn't complain or say anything about the ruined sweatshirt. he just says, "thanks for baking. i'm going to go shower."

[mydarlingclaudia]

bunnies love bouncing

note : divider is from @/aquazero. my mutuals have been making me think about ogre4 Leon more than I already do so this is what I spat out I know this kinda sucks. sorry I always have to write like eight paragraphs of lore before the smut starts it's who I am. Leon is ooc sorry I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO WRITE HIM dw about it kitten. I don't know how I feel about this one. mdni

wc : 1.7k

tags : @lottiies

desc : you're supposed to make him feel good, why not make him feel even better? smut!! - unprotected p in v, reverse cowgirl, light choking. little bit of fluff, fem!hybrid!reader, post re4og!Leon, not proofread.

The whole reason Leon got you was because you were supposed to be therapeutic, somehow. He didn't really understand how having a roommate he had to take care of was supposed to help him feel better, he didn't even feel like he even needed therapy, but the whole situation had been referred to him by some other agents in the DSO before Spain, but when you were the hybrid that had been picked out for him and you looked at him with your pretty little eyes with your cute rabbit ears twitching atop your head, Leon couldn't really imagine turning you away.

Leon can't help but be a little bit mean to you, you're so easy to tease and he loves the way your nose twitches and your foot thumps against the floor when you get upset. You always forgive him in a matter of minutes, anyway, all he has to do is open his palm and show you a piece of candy he had hidden away and you're already nestled into his side.

His least favorite part of having you might be having to buy you clothes. You take so long to try on everything, and you insist on showing him each new outfit you get to make sure it looks nice or that he likes it. And you always want these cute panties and bras, which of course absolutely had to be modeled for him. But whenever it came to underwear, you’d pull Leon into the fitting room, which made everything way too close for comfort, and you’d spin around and ask him if the underwear looked good on you and he’d have to pretend he wasn’t starting to feel hot. Not to mention how cute your little cottontail looked perched above your panties.

And you’re cute, always waiting by the door for Leon when he comes back from work, snuggling up to him so quickly that he has to pry you off of him to even be able to get his shoes off. He’ll tell you to scram for a few minutes while he unpacks his things and finishes whatever paperwork he had to take home with him, you always sigh and wander into the living room to watch tv, hoping Leon will be done soon so he’ll keep paying attention to you.

You got attached quickly, that made Leon feel kinda good, he supposed. Leon had to get your own flip phone for when he went away on missions, in case of an emergency or to order yourself pizza, but you ended up calling his agency more often than not. And you were allowed to since you were registered as a therapy hybrid under the agency, you weren’t allowed to speak to Leon directly when he was on the job, but Hunnigan would always let him know when you called and asked how he was doing, she always humored you, it was cute to her.

Having you around does make him feel a bit better, getting extra attention is nice and you’re always so sweet to him, Leon figures that taking care of you isn’t too bad sometimes.

He gets to see you naked every so often.

It’s cute, you always strip down to nothing when it gets too hot at night, it doesn’t stop you from sweating through the night, unfortunately. You’d always wander into Leon’s room come morning and ask him for a bath, trying to climb into his bed even when you were still naked.

The first time you had done it, he had groaned and held his hands out in front of his eyes to keep himself from oogling you for too long, but you had flopped down onto his stomach and just laid there for a few minutes while he debated whether or not this was a good idea or not.

It became more normal now, not that he minded, he likes to reach down and give your tail a gentle yank just to hear you yelp. Maybe even “accidentally” grope you just because he can.

You sit too close to him sometimes, too. Sometimes you’re on his lap, either facing away from him or with your head buried in his neck, either way, he’s gripping onto your legs, trying not to focus on how you’re squirming in his lap.

He likes when you curl up into his bed at night, you grip onto him like a bear-trap and don’t let go until morning. Leon’s aware of everything all the time, especially on how your lips are pressed against his neck, he knows you’re not trying to kiss him, but he can delude himself a tiny bit.

You were so sweet tonight, babbling about how you had missed him and how warm he felt. Leon couldn’t help but kiss your cheek, you had giggled as you squeezed him tighter and pressed a few kisses to his cheek in return.

Things escalated kind of quickly. One second you and Leon are kissing each other's faces, the next his tongue is down your throat, then the very next, your back is to him as you ride him.

Leon’s grip on your hips is almost bruising, guiding your body while your hands grip just above his knees to keep yourself upright. He can’t tear his gaze away from your cottontail, smiling to himself as he watches it twitch.

“You’re so cute,” Leon murmurs, pulling you down to meet his upward thrust. You groaned, your nails digging into his skin, Leon’s hands left your hips and trailed up your stomach until he cupped your breasts, yanking you back against his chest. “So sweet for me, too.”

His lips attach to your shoulder, planting kisses on any open space he could find. While his hips were busy rutting against you, driving his dick into you, his hands busied themselves with kneading your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingertips.

“You were such a-a blabber-mouth before, mm fuck, you’re finally quiet now, hm?” Leon teases, his nails digging into the soft flesh of your breasts.

“M-missed you,” You pant, moving faster to match his movements, you smile to yourself when he lets out a groan as you clamp down around him.

“I know, God- mhm- always so good to me. Just wanna make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,”

“You’re doing a pretty good job. Sooo perfect, holy shit-“ He stops fucking up into you for a few seconds, letting you do the work as focused on the feeling of your hot cunt sucking him in. You had been so ready for him when he pulled off your panties, he couldn't help but drool a little at the sight of you all wet for him, couldn't hold back from giving your clit a few kisses and gentle nips, either.

Leon's right hand leaves your breast to move behind you, tugging at the tips of your droopy rabbit ears, tipping your head back a little bit as you hiss. He tuts, bringing the furry flap of cartilage to his mouth to press a kiss against it, finally deciding to start bucking his hips again.

Holy Hell, the wet sounds coming from the two of you were gonna be stuck in his head for the next two weeks, at least. Not to mention the noises falling from your mouth and the way you looked bouncing up and down on his cock, he'd have to have you facing him the next time you do this.

And you felt like you were on fire.

You weren't gonna tell Leon, but you've been wishing for this to happen since forever. And maybe it's dumb to crush on the guy who takes care of you, but you can't help it! Just like how you can't help humping his pillows when he's gone, or wearing his shirts when you have a whole closet full of clothes you asked him to buy you, but this was way better than any of that. You were willing to do this until you were all sore and Leon had to do all the work, you wouldn't even mind passing out.

And he felt better than any dream you could have, mostly because of how he's hardly giving you a break, but also because it's him.

You're pulled from your barely-there thoughts as Leon's bicep wraps around your throat, squeezing gently as your head tips back and his other hand shoots down to play with your clit. Was he trying to drive you crazy? Your hands grip his arm, fingernails digging into his flesh as you try to ground yourself, trying to take in as much air as you can in case he decides to squeeze harder.

"Feel good?" He mutters against the side of your head, smiling as you nod. His fingers poke and pinch at your clit, your own thrusts start slowing down as you begin to feel your orgasm start to coil up in your belly.

Your head droops down, resting against his bicep as his grip loosens, you almost whine when his fingers leave your clit to hold onto your stomach, keeping you against him even more.

"Gonna tell my boss to give you a f-fucking promotion when we're done," Leon pants, the noises coming from his mouth slowly becoming more needy, doing nothing to aid in stopping your arousal. "Cum, please. Gonna lose it. Shit-"

Leon offers up a few more hard thrusts before you feel the coil snap and you cum, biting down on his forearm as you breathe through your nose. Leon isn't far behind, his thrusts become lazy as he reaches his own high, his arm moves from your neck to wrap around your shoulder to hold onto you tightly, you shiver as you feel his cum coat your insides.

"Happy?" You mumble to him, tilting your head to rest against his as you teasingly tease his spent dick, listening to him groan while he weakly thrusts against you.

"Very," Leon presses a kiss to your head and loosens his grip on you, letting you rise off of him. "Let me see your face, next time." You turn to face him, draping your legs over his while you lay down on the bed and catch your breath. Leon should have gotten you sooner.

"You can see my face now,"

"Don't play dumb, you know what I mean."

[delusional-day-dreamer]

So High School Part¹- k.m

‣ kate martin x celebrity reader (inspired fully by @ellienator)

‣ wc: 1216

‣‣ synopsis: reader, who has been famous all her life (think mckenna grace or peyton elizabeth lee), reveals her celebrity crush in a Vanity Fair interview with close friend, Sabrina Carpenter.

‣‣‣ a/n: pre write: i'm so obsessed with the wcbb x celebrity trope, also sorry it’s so long but i wanted to use this fic to practice writing more dialogue! after: i started around one a.m. and somehow finished this at almost FOUR AM after writing non-stop... (IT WOULDN'T LET ME UPLOAD THIS, I TRIED LIKE TWENTY TIMES)

"I swear to god, you have to stop touching your hair y/n," my manager, Alyssa, looked up from her phone just to scold me for the second time in the last twenty minutes.

"I'm sorry but I literally cannot help it right now Lyss, you don't understand how nervous I am for this," I insisted to her. "I'm so stupid, out of all the men AND women in the entire celebrity pool world wide, why did I have to say that Kate freaking Martin was my celebrity crush," I whine, albeit childishly, while squirming in the leather seats of our limo.

Three Weeks Ago

"Hi my name is Y/N L/N, and today I am here with Vanity Fair with the one and only..." You introduced yourself to the camera before gesturing to the woman next to you, one of your closest childhood friends.

"Sabrina Carpenter! And today we are going to be testing out a little lie detector test," After growing up on Disney sets together and respectively journeying out of the acting industry into music, you and Sabrina had only grown closer over the years you had known each other.

As the proctor introduces how the interview will go, Sabrina volunteers you to be in the hot seat first, and with some small bickering, you relent.

"So let's start of small just to test it out you know, how old are you?" Sabrina asks you from the other end of the table.

"I actually just turned 23 years old," you respond calmly, happy that your friend was taking it slow. With the proctor's approval, the two of you move on with the questioning.

SMALL TIME SKIP

"What is your biggest ick in a relationship? Wait I think we've talked about this before right?" Sabrina animatedly asks, eager to hear you response.

"No yea we definitely have, but the thing is for me," you start, "I don't have a type, like at all. Man, woman, celebrity, athlete, a totally regular person, I don't really care. To me, if you're attractive then you're attractive right?" Sabrina nodded in agreement to your statement. "So it's not often I get icked out, however, my biggest and literal immediate turn-off is when they start being overwhelmingly jealousy or being possessive about me, even like just being overbearing about my every move is an immediate no for me. It's honestly why I've been single for a while now," You respond thoroughly.

It was no secret to your fans that you were bisexual, considering your last very public relationship was with a woman.

"That's honestly such a valid ick, like if you think you own me then please escort yourself out that's honestly so gross," Sabrina piggybacks off your answer. "But I'm dying to ask and there's no way you expected me to not ask you this question, but, you've been a single lady for quite some time now," Sabrina teases, wiggling her eyebrows repeatedly at you.

"Oh no, I know where you're going with this," You complain, already beginning to feel a flush rising in your face.

"Do you have your eyes on anybody right now? Specifically, do you currently have a celebrity crush?" Sabrina asks you with the widest, most smug shit-eating grin on her face as she watches the blush begin to form on your cheeks.

"Yes I do," you mumble, rolling your eyes at your friend in the process.

"Who is it?" She pushes, knowing that once she asked, you basically had no choice but to answer according to the interview rules.

"Dude that's so not fair I don't wanna tell the entire internet that," you protest weakly.

"Come on! It's not even that big of a deal, besides you're super hot, I'm sure she'll be flattered," Sabrina insisted to you while trying to hold back her grin.

"Sab!" You groan as her big mouth reveals the gender of your crush, automatically giving away part of their identity.

"Oh shoot sorry," She quickly apologizes, covering her mouth with the interview question card in her hand. "But like, you're gonna tell them who it is either way so I'm not sure it matters," She adds in slyly, reveling in the red flush that had now visibly engulfed the entirety of your face.

"Okay fine whatever, it's Kate Martin," you mumble under your breath looking down at your shoes, attempting to escape the embarrassment burning inside of you.

"No that's definitely cheating, you have to actually say her name," Sab giggled at the state you were in.

"Oh my gosh fine," you exclaimed while waving your face with a paper from the desk, trying to lessen the appearance of the blush on your face. "It's Kate Martin alright? She plays basketball at the University of Iowa, has just declared for the WNBA Draft, and she's incredibly attractive, so literally sue me." You end the mini rant with both hands in the air, embarrassed and mildly annoyed at the fact that your friend had coaxed you into admitting your crush.

Sabrina laughed in delight, smacking her hand excitedly on the table in front of you to in response to your confession.

"OH MY GOSH, OH MY GOSH, tell me you've seen the edits of her on tiktok because there's no way you don't have any favorited or saved on your phone," Sabrina wheezed through her bout of laughter.

"Obviously I've seen them but I haven't favorited any of them," you defended weakly.

"That's a lie," the proctor informed you two, which sent Sabrina into a second round of wheezing laughs.

"NO WAY, how many? Like a hundred? Two hundred? More than that?" She exclaimed, somehow managing to tease you while still being out of breath with laughter.

"Like two or three maybe, like at most," You lied, despite knowing that they would find out.

"Still lying," the proctor slightly smiled, only furthering Sabrina's howling laughter to the point she nearly fell out of her chair.

"My god, you could at least pretend to be a little less overjoyed at this," you grumbled, attempting and failing to hide the giggles beginning to spill out of you at the sound of your friend's infectious laughter. You eventually gave up on trying to pretend being annoyed and joined Sab with her maniacal laughing, unable to control yourselves for the next few minutes.

"I hope you realize I'm so getting you back for that," You teased Sabrina as the two of you switched seats to continue the second half of the interview, your questions and Sabrina's answers.

END OF FLASHBACK

"Y/n it's not even that big of a deal, you just said she was attractive, it's not like you professed your deep-profound love for her," Alyssa insisted.

"I practically admitted to favoriting tiktok edits of her Alyssa, I'm literally doomed," you sighed dramatically leaning your head to the cool glass of the limo window.

"Yea well," Alyssa began, texting on her phone once again, "You're just gonna have to put on your big girl pants and deal with it because we're almost there and they wanna interview you on the red carpet and right when you enter the theater, and it’s quite literally the WNBA Draft, so there's no way they're not gonna bring up Kate," she informed you.

"I'm actually gonna die," you declare.

Thanks for reading all the way through! I'll be coming out with part two very soon!!

[oniikabuto]

one bed!

-- sfw --

characters: kyle broflovski, kenny mccormick, stan marsh, eric cartman

a/n: i did this for a different fandom like a year ago. i love the one bed trope i just had to write a new one for south park....,,, lmk if you want part 2

notes: fluff yayyy; gn reader; characters have a fat crush on you live laugh mutual pining;

guys requests are very much open rigjt now pleasseeeekksflkdfnkjs

— ⛧ k. broflovski

sweetest guy. he doesn't want to take your bed, but you insist.

he also hangs his jacket on the door and keeps his hat neatly on your desk... which is kinda funny and cute that he tries so hard to be neat

freezes up and goes red when you slide into the bed next to him. poor boy is about to melt.

"dude why are you so sweaty are you okay"

"huh- what? yeah, yeah it's cool i'm fine it's..,,,,,,,"

wakes up with a puddle of drool and a wet cheek. he panics and wipes his face and looks over to see if you're awake. you pretend you aren't for kyle's sake. he's so cute.

his nose also does that stupid whistley thing it's so funny

a relatively still sleeper. he just kinda curls up and.. sleeps. sometimes he murmurs something in his sleep.

"cartman.. shut up..",

"what?", you murmur groggily.

"no"

"kyle??? are you awake??"

(no response)

genuinely cannot remember any of that when he wakes up.

— ⛧ k. mccormick

it's like 1am and you turn off the movie as the credits roll.

when you look over at kenny, he looks like a baby that had just woken up.

"dude, what time is it..", he murmurs.

"um.. late." you definitely did not mean to have him over for so long.

"do you wanna go home, or like.. stay with me?"

kenny perks up immediately when you offer to let him spend the night. huge, shit-eating grin spread across his face.

"dumbass", you laugh. but you kinda wanted him over, too.

he sits in your room and pokes at all of your plushies while he waits for you to go get a change of clothes for him. ("no way you're sleeping in that eyesore of a parka!")

almost faints when you change your shirt in front of him

youre the only person that can fluster him like that.

sleeps curled up like a little car

(I MEANT TO TYPE CAT BUT THATS REALLY FUCKING FUNNY)

makes funny noises

like when a dog is sleeping

you'll wake up with his face in your chest and he'll swear it was an accident. it was not

— ⛧ s. marsh

you were at your desk doing homework and stan was on your bed on his phone, both doing your own thing as music played from your speaker.

it's not until that last math problem that you realize it's late. really, really late. you look over at stan, and he's face-down dead asleep on your bed, phone still in one hand.

you don't want to wake him up and tell him to go home, so instead you take his hat off and leave it on your bedpost.

he's splayed across the bed right in the middle.

how?? are you supposed to move him???

after a moment of deliberation, you hold your breath and roll him over, praying he doesn't wake up.

he does obviously

"ow..???? y/n??"

"shit. sorry. it's late, just go back to sleep. you can walk home tomorrow morning."

"wha- okay"

he's too tired to object

plus he secretly loves being in your bed. it smells like you

snores and breathes kinda funny once in a while

no matter how still he looks when you get into the bed with him, somehow you wake up with his limbs sprawled out like a spider.

in the morning, his leg is on top of you and his hand is on your face.

— ⛧ e. cartman

actually such a bitch about staying over

he definitely tried to distract you so that he would HAVE to spending the night

he just loves spending time with you but he doesnt wanna ask :(

"but the couch will make my back stiff! i'll be soo sore in the morning!"

"just say you want to sleep in my room with me, cartman."

"whaat?? if you insist, i guess!"

makes himself absolutely at home. if you want to sleep in your own bed, you'll have to sleep on top of him or touching him.

he definitely does that on purpose

as much as it pains you to admit it, cartman is actually like really really comfortable.

even if he's squishing you to death

and he claims he has no idea he does that in his sleep

smells like a dove soap bar or like. baby shampoo and its actually really nice

snores like a monster truck engine

leaves his shit all over the floor but also offers to help clean up to impress you

(he cant clean for shit but at least he tried??)

[yooglefics]

Reveal — Part two: editing

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader ( camboy!yoongi x camgirl!reader )  Wordcount: 1,735 words Genre: 18+, mdni, remainder to not use fanfics as your only source of sex ed. Summary: Yoongi is just helping a friend help you, but is he even supposed to listen to this?. Part 2 of Reveal: recording. Read it for context. This is just why and how we got to that ending. More warnings under read more.

Includes: Mentions of selling sex content. People recording sex acts. Mentions of sexual activity ( doing things and also talking about doing things and thinking about doing more things ). Mentions of past and not past masturbation ( f and m ).  Dirty talk? I guess?. Sprinkle of possessive yoongi? Is not my fault i sweaaaar Author's note: Remember when I started writing something short and silly lmao, what a time. Btw, I have never used OF so if something I say about how they use the website is actually not true / completely wrong just pretend please lmao. Anyway, I thought it'd be fun to write Yoongi's side, hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a comment, reblog, ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

Saturday is probably Yoongi's favorite day of the week. No waking up early, no work, and not worrying about having to do any of those the next day.

That's why he groans when his phone rings with messages from Jungkook. He knows is him because he is the only one who still insists on sending him a million messages instead of just one. 

Love the guy, but he can be annoying.

The fifth ring comes and hopping is the last one, Yoongi finally reaches for his phone and rolls to his back. 

JK: hey JK: are you awake? JK: and free today? JK: i need a favor JK: yoongi?

Yoongi: with what? If I have to leave my house is probably a no.

Both of them know that actually, even if it ruined his plans of relaxing, he would say yes. Because that's what friends do.

JK: no no. You can do it at your house  JK: I need to edit an audio for my friend JK: but I'm on the schedule today JK: and if I don't send it back quickly she will back out JK: please? 

Yoongi: ok. Send it to me. Yoongi: you own me, tho.

Throwing his phone on the bed, he gets out of it to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, getting ready to sit in his studio for at least an hour. He knows is probably a bit extra to use his expensive equipment for whatever this favor is, but if he is going to help, he is going to do it right.

Opening Jungkook's messages on his laptop, Yoongi almost wants to laugh at himself.

JK: [ killmepls.mp3 ] JK: is and OF thing, btw JK: don't listen to it in public lol

Yep, definitely Poducer Min equipment is too extra for this. But, fuck it.

The archive is already downloaded when he opens the software, starting a new project and naming it the same as the audio plus final, to not get confused. Plugging in his headphones he starts playing it, already noticing whoever this is, is pretty quiet at the beginning and he would most likely have to cut it off, still, he listens to make sure.

A few taps followed by a “hi..” is the start, and he chuckles at their giggles.

He decides to let that in, but cuts the next few seconds where only their breathing can be heard along with some clicking and fabric moving. Is too long of a pause for this kind of thing and the clicking gives a way they weren't ready to start. Sure they wouldn't mind.

They put music on? It sounds familiar but is pretty fade out, so he can't really be sure, and then “This angle is kinda…” 

That's him.

That's his voice.

“Hot,” the voice continues before he can rewind.

“You can't tell me I'm mean anymore. I'm spoiling you,” his own voice travels again on his headphones. “I'm giving you this view and I'm giving you what's probably the thing you all ask the most: hands.”

What is this? Some kind of joke?

Did Jungkook put them up to this?

“I hate him. I'm gonna sue him,” 

That gets a laugh from him, even if he is still confused about what is happening.

Maybe it's just his imagination?

Should he ask his friend?

More movement of fabric. Maybe bed sheets or clothes. More breathing, a bit faster than last time and then, a groan. 

He can leave that in.

Wait, that's right. He is supposed to be editing this. He has to go back and…

“This angle is kinda…” his voice says and he hits pause. Is really him. Is that possible?

He feels like he is imagining things.

“Jungkook, I swear if this is some kind of joke or something,” he rambles taking his phone out.

Yoongi: did you listen to it?

JK: no, didn't have time JK: why? something wrong? JK: don't tell me it can't be used JK: she is gonna be sad :(

Yoongi: who is she?

JK: dunno if i can tell you 

Yoongi: technically I'm doing a favor for her. I think is fair 

JK: good point JK: is afterhours(y/n)

He opens a new tap on his laptop, goes to the website and searches for the username through his followers. And sure enough there it is. Subscribed a month ago.

He clicks to see your perfil. The first post he can see without being subscribed is a picture of a lilac lingerie set on a bed with the caption “very early birthday present”, from a week ago. 

He considers subscribing to see more, but he stops himself from clicking, remembering Jungkook didn't even want to tell him who you were. Oh, shit. What would you do if you knew it was him editing your audio? Would you back out? Or be sad?

Now it feels kind of wrong, like if he were invading your privacy.

He clicks around on his computer again, audio track back to the zero seconds mark. He hears the “hi” and the giggles and stops it before his voice appears. 

“Okay, this is going to be posted. It was recorded with the intention of being posted for people to hear,” he reasons. “If it's not posted I'd just forget about it and if it is… I'd… subscribe? To make up for listening?”

Clearly that part is not completely made up on his mind, but he doesn't have to decide what to do right now, he has to finish editing. And so, Yoongi clicks around the software again, cutting and deleting another section, the one where you can hear his voice and even his music before.

That's it. It was a familiar track because it is his. He composed that himself to put in the background of his videos exclusively. He figured putting his own touch would help if something was posted outside his page, never imagining hearing it in the background of someone else's video or audio was even possible.

It shouldn't affect him this much. After all, people touching themselves to his videos is half the reason he likes making them. What can he say? Is a turn on to have that effect on others, it builds his confidence up.

But actually hearing it is different. 

Groan and fabric moving, a bit too close to the mic he considers doing something about it, but “I want you to touch me,” is the perfect whisper. Just the right volume, just the right words.

No more audio of SugaD can be heard now, you probably turn down the volume of the video or pause it. Yoongi is curious about it. The idea of your sounds being a reaction to his past self is doing things to him, and Yoongi would like to ignore them before getting too distracted, but is kind of a boomer not knowing exactly what your reactions are for.

Maybe he can open his video, it wouldn't be hard for him to synchronized it with your audio and—

No.

That would cross the line. Is enough that he—

“Are you hard?” your voice continues, timidly he thinks. 

Is this your first time doing this? That's why you couldn't edit yourself?

What would you do if you knew he was listening and his dick was calling for attention at all your little sounds?

He stops your recording, considers taking a break, going back to bed. But he knows just forgetting about this would be hard and in the end he would have to come back and finish helping.

He unpaused it.

More moans echo throughout his headphones and he fixes them on top of his head, as if that would help him concentrate. You just sound so pretty, and when you plead he wants to give you anything you ask for, his dick twitching with desire.

He could just— no. That'll be wrong. Is enough he is letting it affect him this much, he can't just—

His leg bounces under his desk, hand glue to his mouse even when he is just listening now. Only stopping and going back a couple times to fix the volume of background noise, making it less or more obvious depending on the flow or your moans.

A groan of his own cuts the silence in his studio when you form words again. “It feels so good, oh god.” And Yoongi wishes he knew what. Wishes he could see you, could touch you. Could make you sound and feel that good in person.

“Uh uh,” short moans leave your lips, and it sounds so much like you're agreeing with his thoughts he really considers sneaking a hand down his pants. Allow his mind to wander and imagine what you would look like under him. Or on top. Or just coming undone by him.

But he doesn't. He just listens to your recording, your breathing, your pleas and your cut out warning when you cum.

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi angrily whispers. And for a second he considers doing the SugaD special of cutting it out of the final audio, but that's too selfish.

Or perhaps is more selfish leaving it. Considering he wants the world to hear how you sound when listening to him.

Yoongi managed to leave the studio without touching himself. But is not really as impressive as it sounds since his hand is on his dick the minute he goes back to bed after listening to the final edit of your audio one last time. The excuse of being just to make sure is perfect is just that, an excuse. And your pretty sounds replay on his head while he jerks off until orgasm.

JK: thank youuuu JK: she says thank you too!

Does that mean you know he was the one editing it?

He opens the app on his phone, looks for your perfil again and debates a couple minutes his options. 

What's the worst that can happen? You blocking him? He would understand, but if he actually doesn't do anything, doesn't play his chance, he wouldn't forgive himself.

And so, he subscribes. Page refreshes instantly and a new post greets him.

[ afterhours(y/n):

Surprise, surprise. Is my birthday month but I keep spoiling you, ain't I the best? 😝 

      [ VoiceReveal.mp3 ]

                                                                         ]

Doesn't even have to listen to it, his fingers move on their own, “the cutest”, he comments.

♡ Tag list: @m00njinnie , @sexytholland , @seoullove96 , @thelilbutifulthings , @disneyprincessshuri ,

( is hereee! I appreciate u guys hehe <3 ) ( if anyone else wants to be tagged in the future, let me know )

➪ Part one. | ➪ Part three. | ➪ Updates for this verse | ➪ Ko-fi

➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats ♡

[its-avalon-08]

cracks in my armor (mw6)

(this is one of my favorite ever requests, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this. thank u sm <3)

the air in the red bull cooldown room thrummed with a tension thicker than the celebratory champagne showers outside. y/n, still strapped into her helmet, glared daggers at mark webber across the room. the brazilian grand prix had delivered a 1-2 finish for red bull, y/n taking a dominant first with mark trailing a frustrated second.

jenson button, the ever-diplomatic test and reserve driver, attempted to lighten the mood. "well, that was quite a show out there, folks! didn't think the paint would stay on those cars after all that battling." mark grunted, not looking up from his phone. y/n slammed her helmet on the table, the force making jenson flinch. "show?" she spat. "more like a fight with a toddler throwing a tantrum because he's leaving his favorite toy behind."

mark's head snapped up, his blue eyes blazing with a flicker of something y/n couldn't decipher. "easy there, sunshine. don't get ahead of yourself. this isn't about you." y/n's jaw clenched. "isn't it? you couldn't stand being outshone again, could you? that's why you're quitting. ego bruised beyond repair by a little competition."

"oh, spare me the dramatics," mark countered, his voice tight. "it's not about ego. it's about moving on." "moving on to what?" y/n pressed, a tremor in her voice betraying a vulnerability she tried to hide. "because it sure as hell isn't another team." a beat of tense silence hung in the air. jenson, sweat beading on his forehead, cleared his throat. "maybe we should, uh, give them some space, guys?" he cast a helpless look at the camera crew, who were dutifully capturing every barb.

y/n ignored him, her gaze locked on mark. "what is it, mark? why the sudden change of heart? you always said formula one was your life." mark looked away, his jaw clenched. "things change," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "not that much," y/n insisted, her voice cracking slightly. "unless there's something else you're not telling me." the accusation hung heavy in the air.

mark finally met her gaze, his blue eyes swirling with a storm of emotions. "there's plenty i'm not telling you," he said roughly, his voice laced with a hidden pain. "but it has nothing to do with you."


y/n scoffed, but the spark of defiance seemed to falter. "convenient. of course the mighty fucking australian can't deal with answering a simple questions. now why did i expect any differently?" she said with a snide tone. "leave me alone y/l/n. honest to god before i say something i'll regret" he mumbled, turning away. "oh fuck no. you don't get to act like we haven't been fighting for the same oppurtinty, like i haven't suffered the same pain of competion," she yelled. 


"YOU will NEVER understand the pain of yearning and fighting for something that will never truly be yours. no matter how hard you fucking try," mark shouted infuriated. silence descended once more, heavy and suffocating. the air crackled with unspoken words and a tension that went far beyond competition. jenson shifted uncomfortably, the weight of their unspoken feelings pressing down on him.

just then, the door to the room burst open, revealing christian horner, the red bull team principal, with a thunderous expression on his face. even the seasoned jenson flinched at the icy aura. the room fell silent, the weight of horner's presence pressing down on them. horner took a long look at the scene, taking in the red-faced drivers, the overturned chair, and the cameras filming the entire debacle. a slow, humorless smile spread across his face. "well," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "this is certainly one way to make headlines."

y/n and mark both looked away, shame flickering across their faces. the victory that had tasted so sweet just moments ago was now a bitter pill. the weight of their actions, captured for the world to see, settled heavily upon them. the cooldown room, once a place of celebration, now echoed with the deafening silence of a fractured team and something left unsaid.

the celebratory party in the red bull hospitality suite throbbed with a forced energy. y/n stood by the window, the cityscape of são paulo a glittering blur against the ache in her heart. every shared laugh, every raised champagne flute felt like a mockery of the raw emotions that had ripped through the cooldown room earlier.

finally, she couldn't take it anymore. with a deep breath, she excused herself and made her way down the hall, stopping at mark's designated suite. it took a moment to gather her courage, knuckles rapping tentatively against the door. silence. she rapped again, this time a little firmer. the door creaked open, revealing a weary mark, surprise flickering in his blue eyes.

"y/n?" he rasped, his voice raw. "can i come in?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. he stepped aside, and y/n entered, the door clicking shut behind her. the air crackled with tension, a stark contrast to the cheerful music filtering in from the party down the hall.

mark gestured to the couch, but y/n remained standing. "what did you mean?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart. mark's gaze dropped to his hands. "i..." he stammered, his voice thick with emotion. "i shouldn't have said that. it wasn't about the race." y/n pressed on, her voice gaining strength. "then what was it about, mark?" he looked up at her then, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that stole her breath. "it was about..." he hesitated, then blurted out, "it was about you."

the words hung heavy in the air. y/n's mind reeled. "me?" she whispered, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

mark took a step closer, his voice a low rumble. "for years, y/n. i've..." he stopped, his jaw clenched. "you've what?" she prompted, her voice barely audible. "i've had feelings for you," he confessed, his voice rough with emotion. "but i never thought i'd deserve someone like you. so talented, so beautiful, so damn brilliant." his voice cracked. "you were always out of reach."

y/n's breath caught in her throat. the truth, raw and unexpected, hit her like a wave. all this time, the constant bickering, the simmering tension, it wasn't just competition. it was a poorly disguised dance around unspoken feelings. "mark," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "i never thought..." "don't," he interrupted, his hand reaching out to gently cup her face. "it doesn't matter now. i'm leaving."

the reminder of his departure sent a fresh wave of pain through her. "but what if..." she trailed off, her gaze locked on his. he searched her eyes, a flicker of hope battling the resignation in his gaze. "what if what?" "what if i feel the same way?" she confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "maybe i didn't understand before, but i do now. i..." she faltered, then whispered, "i think i'm in love with you too, mark."

the weight of her confession hung in the air for a beat, then a slow smile spread across mark's face. it was a smile filled with relief, disbelief, and a joy that mirrored her own. before either of them could speak further, the gap between them closed. the kiss was slow, hesitant at first, then deepening as emotions they'd kept bottled up for so long came bursting forth. it was a kiss filled with longing, with unspoken apologies, and with the promise of a future they could now dare to dream of. when they finally broke apart, breathless and shaky, a new understanding shone in their eyes. the race, the fight, the angry outburst – it all paled in comparison to the truth they had finally confessed.

suddenly, a muffled thump came from the window ledge, followed by a low hiss. y/n and mark whipped around, startled. "what was that?" y/n whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. mark cautiously approached the window, his hand instinctively reaching for something that wasn't there. he peered out, then his eyes widened comically.

"oh my god," he breathed. y/n joined him, peering out the window. there, sprawled on the small balcony outside, were jenson button and fernando alonso, their faces contorted in a mixture of relief, amusement, and mild discomfort.

"busted!" jenson groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat. fernando, ever the pragmatist, simply rolled his eyes. "took you long enough, you two." y/n and mark stared at them, speechless for a moment. then, y/n burst into laughter, a genuine, joyful sound that echoed through the room. mark, the blush creeping up his neck, joined in, the tension melting away.

"you were spying on us?" y/n exclaimed, wiping a tear from her eye.

jenson sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "well, not exactly spying. we just... happened to be enjoying the view and, uh, things escalated a bit." fernando snorted. "don't listen to him, he tripped over a potted plant and dragged me down with him." y/n and mark exchanged a look, then burst into laughter again. the awkwardness was gone, replaced by a shared sense of camaraderie. "well, congratulations you two," jenson said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. " fucking finally!"

"about bloody time," fernando echoed, raising a nonexistent glass in a toast.

y/n and mark grinned at each other, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted. as the sounds of the party drifted in from down the hall, a new kind of celebration bloomed – not just for their newfound love, but for the hilarious, unexpected way their friends had discovered it. the night, once filled with tension, now promised laughter, love, and a future brighter than any trophy.

[vanesycho]

would you ever consider writing horror/thriller with jaehyun 👀

I've never tried writing horror, but i hope it was something you wanted🥹🤍🤍

I really like the movie Scream so I got inspired by this <3

Warning:Violence, horror(?)

wc:1k

──────────────────────

“I missed you Y/n.” You smiled at what you heard from your boyfriend and leaned against the counter. "I missed you too, I want to see you again soon." You took a deep breath, he couldn't spare much time for you because of his work. "Don't worry my love, we will spend the whole day together tomorrow." You smiled slightly, distracted by the sound coming from the TV.

'The recent horrific events in the city have caused widespread coverage. Authorities have announced that a person has gained a reputation as an extremely dangerous and obsessive criminal. This person has caused several kidnappings and has caused great concern among the public. Police are warning that this person could be in the area at any time. Citizens are asked to lock their doors and windows tightly, be careful when they are alone at home, and report any suspicious situations to the authorities immediately. For your safety, please pay attention to these warnings and take the necessary precautions to protect yourself. We will share any new developments with you as they occur.'

You rolled your eyes and talked to yourself as you changed the channel. "This stupid news again, this is all I've seen for 2 weeks." A deep breathing sound came from the phone. "Be careful though Y/n, you're in the killer's place, I'm worried about you." Your hand went to the popcorn you had just prepared and you popped a few into your mouth. "Don't worry, this is nothing but nonsense, I'm sure they'll catch them soon. And never mind that, haven't you gotten home yet?"

"No, not yet." "I told you to take a taxi, why do you insist on walking?" There was no sound from your boyfriend. You frowned. “Hello?” After a while he spoke again "Yes I'm here, god someone just standing there in a weird outfit." You chuckled. "What? Are you scared? Don't worry, Halloween is coming up, everyone has already started getting ready." You sat on the couch and started looking for a movie to watch. "Hey babe, I have to hang up now, let me know when you get home okay?" There was no sound again. You rolled your eyes. "Look, don't make those jokes on me, okay? You know I don't like it." There was no sound again, the next thing that came was the sound of the phone closing.

You just stared at your phone screen, thinking there was no signal there, you called again but he didn't answer, you waited for a while, this time when you got a call from your boyfriend, you quickly answered it. "I think the signal went out-" The groaning sounds in pain behind didn't let you finish your sentence, you called out your boyfriend's name in a familiar voice. Another voice answered you, a strange, unfamiliar voice. “Hello Y/n.” It made you stand up quickly, you swallowed hard. “Look... If this is a joke, it’s not funny at all.”

The person on the other end of the phone laughed, "Oh honey, if you saw your boyfriend writhing in pain on the floor you wouldn't call this a joke." Your breathing quickened, your heart beating with fear as you started dialing the police number. "If you call the police, I will stab you until I take out all your guts." Your hand started shaking, you just stood there doing nothing, you brought the phone back to your ear, your voice came out shaky "W-what did you d-do to him?"

"Oh him? Don't worry I haven't done anything yet honey, but if you don't do what I say I don't think he'll live very long, right?" he brought the phone closer to your boyfriend, his groaning in pain caused tears to flow, the strange-voiced person who heard your cry laughed "Are you crying? And just now you were talking about how nonsense this is?"

"What the fuck do you want?" Your voice came out a little harsh despite your crying, you heard the other person hummed. "You." You swallowed hard. “What?” “You heard me, Y/n. No time to play dumb. Now answer my question, do you think your boyfriend would suffer more if I cut him in half or if I tore his limbs off?" Your tears started to flow faster, you covered your mouth with your hand to suppress your sound. "Please..." There was no answer, and after a while you threw the phone down in fear when you heard your boyfriend screaming in pain, even though the sound was still echoing in your ears. You didn't know what to do out of shock and fear, your whole body was shaking, you were frozen. "Answer me, Y/n. Do you think he's suffered enough? He still doesn't seem to have enough organs out, hm?"

"Fuck you! You're going to rot in hell you piece of shit!! You think you're going to get away with this?" He just laughed, you hated it when you heard his laugh, you hated everything, you couldn't do anything while your boyfriend was there in pain taking his last breaths. "Come on darling, don't cry. Now I have one more question for you." you stayed silent. “Do you think...I would enter from the back entrance of the house or from your open window in your room?” You opened your eyes in shock, felt your heart stop for a moment and quickly ran to the kitchen, took out a knife and held it tightly in your hand. "I'll be the one to cut out all your organs." a small laugh was heard, when you heard the sound of the hardwood floors, you took a few steps back, the steps echoed in the house. “How cute, a knife suits your hand Y/n. Oh, we would make great partners.” and another footstep "But don't worry, if you'll be a good girl I won't have to kill you and we can do this together. I'm sure you'll have fun."

A tiny scream escaped your mouth when the power went out in the house, with that your phone fell out of your hand, you looked around in fear. You froze in place when a man in a mask and black clothes entered your field of vision. “You see, Y/n.” When he took off the mask, you opened your mouth in surprise, the faint lines of his face visible under the moonlight made your heart race. "This is a two-player game and I'm about to win." That was the last thing you heard from your ex, Jaehyun.

[happyhauntt]

a lack of caffeine — spencer reid.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: caffeine makes the world go 'round. that's something you and spencer can agree on.

─── pairing: spencer reid x autistic!medical examiner!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, reader is autistic & a mom, spencer's iq gets slashed to sixty when he talks to pretty girls and it's my favourite thing. no use of y/n. swearing. i really fucking struggled with this it's so boring. thank you to everyone who requested a part 2!

─── word count: 1.8k.

     The call comes in at four in the morning.

     The screen reads three missed calls by the time its incessant buzzing rouses you from your slumber, and you pull it out from beneath your pillow. Squinting at the sudden brightness of it, an unlisted number stares back at you as your phone keeps vibrating insistently in your grip.

     When you finally wake up enough to realise it could be work, you answer it. Agent Hotchner's familiar voice is stern and low and only a little apologetic as he informs you that you're going to be required in the field for a new case, and you should be at the airfield within the hour.

     There isn't enough time to ask any questions before the line clicks, and you're left blinking into the dim light of your bedroom as you try to gather your bearings.

     Sleep itches at the corners of your eyes, all gritty and blurry, and though part of your mind recalls reading this little clause in the contract you’d signed, that constant availability takes on a whole new meaning when you work for the BAU, you still take a moment to fantasise about pushing Aaron Hotchner off a cliff.

     You’re not a morning person. And you would argue that 4AM isn’t even the morning, it’s the middle of the night, and why can’t serial killers do their business during normal business hours?

     A new case. Not your first case since joining the unit as their resident independent medical examiner, but the first where you would join the rest of the team in the field. The first where you'll be required to exert federal authority over county coroners, where you'll have to step on toes in order to get the job done.

     You know they won't take too well to an outsider coming in and derailing their whole thing. You know you wouldn't. You used to be one of them, not that long ago.

     Ah, shit. As the drowsiness begins to fade out of your body, a light panic trickles in. Your skin starts to buzz as if you put your finger into a live socket. You grip your phone so hard it leaves a mark on your palm.

     It takes ten minutes to get ready, stumbling around your room and shoving clothes into a bag. You don't really care about matching socks, but you count out your underwear three times and hope you won't run out before the case is done. Do they have laundries you'll be able to use? Have the other members of the BAU ever encountered this problem? Should you pack your hair straightener or is it really going to matter?

     When you've finally dragged a brush through your hair and dumped the last of your toiletries into a ziploc bag, a dull realisation strikes you.

     Jackie.

     Going toe-to-toe with a rabid raccoon might be more appealing than waking up your sister-in-law in the middle of the night, but you don't really have much choice. She has to know what's going on, she'll be in charge of your daughter for however long you'll be gone, and leaving a note on the kitchen counter feels like the wrong move to make in this instance.

     Is there a protocol for this? A single-parent handbook you can check out at the library? This is something you really should've talked about when you got the job, you know that. You'd known it would require you to travel on occasion, often without prior notice, but it hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time. You'd brushed it under the rug, labelled it to be discussed later as if you and Jackie have ever actually sat down and done that.

     A thousand things sit unsaid between you. That rug has got a little mountain under it by now, almost impossible to ignore. It’s really only a matter of time before you trip over it.

     “Jackie. Jackie.”

     Your sister-in-law grumbles when you sneak into her room and poke her, hard and repeatedly, until she threatens to bite you. The news of your leaving doesn't take her by surprise — exhaustion seems to dull the stung of it — and she promises to call twice a day, every day, before she buries her face back into the pillow and starts to snore like a lawnmower.

     You hope she never, ever changes.

     Pressing a kiss to your sleeping daughter's forehead is the last thing you do before you finally manage to drag yourself out of the apartment. A dull ache thuds in your chest, where your heart should be. She'd looked so peaceful, so sweet, and you can't recall a time since she was born that you'd been apart from her for longer than a day. Her bright, happy giggle and wide eyes flash through your mind.

     As your car peels out of the parking garage, you feel distinctly like a piece of laundry someone hung out to dry and then forgot about.

     The sun is just beginning to kiss the horizon as you pull up to the airfield. Long streaks of a pink-fingered dawn creep across the sky. You flash your identification at the security guard and pull up alongside the jet, scrambling to grab your bag from the passenger seat.

     It doesn't surprise you that you're the last to arrive, but you'd hoped that wouldn't be the case.

     The clock just strikes 5AM as you clatter up the steps, practically falling into the aircraft. Technically, you're on time, but it still feels like you're late for class and your teacher is about to put it on your permanent record. A kind-faced hostess greets you, offers to stow your bag, and you flash her a sheepish smile as you hand it over and pass through the curtains into the main cabin.

     "Holy shit."

     You can't help yourself. Every single member of the team turns to look at you, craning their necks to see exactly who they're dealing with, but you can't even bring yourself to care. "This is a jet. It's actually... a jet."

     You blink at the open space as your jaw goes a little slack. Do you sound a little insane? Sure, and ordinarily you'd feel self-conscious with several pairs of unfamiliar eyes gawking at you, analysing your every movement as if it's their job to do so — and it actually is — but this honestly insane.

     You had no idea the BAU had this kind of budget. Do they own the plane? Do they rent it? Is it publically funded by the taxpayer, and why can't they fly commercial? Like, you're not complaining at all, those leather seats look so comfortable, but why—?

     An austere voice says your name once, twice, and you blink, looking up to find the furrowed brow of your boss frowning at you down the aisle.

     "Take a seat, doctor, we're about to take off."

     His tone leaves no room for argument. A flush rises in your cheeks, and you manage to stammer out an apology before throwing yourself into the nearest available seat, buckling your seatbelt.

     "It's a good thing you're the M.E and not a profiler, sweetcheeks." One of the agents nearest to you leans across the aisle. A charming grin spreads over his face as he offers up his hand in greeting. "Derek Morgan."

     "Oh, I know," you reply, shaking his hand firmly. "I, uh, looked you guys up after Dr. Reid paid a visit to the underworld and I didn't recognise him. Figured I should be a little more familiar with the other members of my team."

     "The underworld?" A blonde woman you realise must be Agent Jareau gives you a friendly, if slightly confused, smile.

     You shrug, suddenly a little embarrassed. Group settings have never been your thing. Too many people, too many unfamiliar eyes, far too many voices clashing together until it all becomes a sensory nightmare.

     You much prefer your little lab, and one-on-one conversations, usually with the unlucky cadavers that find themselves on your slab. They never talk back.

     "It's just what I call the morgue," you tell her. A loose bit of skin hangs off the edge of your nail, and you really, really want to pick at it. Fatigue hovers at the edge of your consciousness, and as the plane engines begin to roar, you find yourself wishing you’d made a coffee before leaving the apartment.

     You would have been late, for sure, but life would feel worth living so, y’know. Swings and roundabouts.

     "In Greek mythology, the underworld is where an individual goes after death. Early ideas suggest that someone’s essence, their psyche, is separated from their corpse at the point of death and transported to the underworld. Accounts differ on whether any judgement occurs, depending on which scholarship you’re citing." A familiar voice pipes up from the back of the plane and you glance over. The rich brown eyes looking back fill you with an odd warmth.

     More at ease with a familiar face, you settle back in your seat and lift your hand in a lazy wave. "Good morning, Dr Reid. It's nice to see you when I'm not elbow-deep in someone's intestines."

     Agent Jareau wrinkles her nose. "Now I'm really glad I didn't have time for breakfast."

     Reid's ears turn bright pink and he looks away, stuttering out his reply. "It's good to see you too. Uh, well, not good, given the circumstances, since there's a serial killer on the loose, but good because—"

     "We get the picture, Reid," Agent Hotchner cuts him off, and Reid turns his gaze back to the small window, a little flustered. Hotch looks, bizarrely, like he's trying not to smile. "Welcome to the team. We'll go over the case details once we're in the air."

     “Is there coffee in the air?” There might be a murder mid-flight otherwise. Really, how do they function at this time in the morning? The plane judders as it rolls over the tarmac, heading for the runway. “Or tea, or soda, or— Honestly, I’ll take whatever. I just don’t want to fall asleep in a body cavity later on.”

     Again.

     Reid finds himself nodding, entirely against his will. There’s something about the peculiar medical examiner, something he can’t quite put his finger on, but it makes him want to keep talking. More than usual, at least.

     He wonders if there’s duct tape on board. Or a parachute.

     “There’s coffee,” he confirms. Is his voice a little high?

     “Dr. Reid, I could kiss you—”

     Oh, hell. Judging by the way Morgan has a hand pressed to his mouth, stifling an obscenely loud chuckle, Reid suspects he’s never going to hear the end of this.

[ugh-yoongi]

a yoongi soft thought i have been having recently: streamer!yoongs with an also streamer reader, they both work independently but the fans know about their relationship and love it so much! i was thinking about them deciding to do a stream together where the reader does his makeup and they talk to the public, very cliche very soft lol

hope you like the idea, luv your writing ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

omggg you have no idea how much i SQUEALED reading this message. thank u so much for sending it i am now overwhelmed with soft yoongi feels 😭

i have never actually watched a twitch stream??? so i hope i did this justice & you enjoy! <3

stream is starting

pairing: yoongi x reader (no pronouns used) genre: est. relationship, streamer au; fluff warnings: fluff overload. reader does yoongi's nails and makeup. they kiss a lot. idk what to say they're just very in love!! i don't think i said even ONE curse word in this that's how soft it is. unedited. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 1.6k listen to: carly rae jepsen - run away with me; jungkook - seven (nightfall mix)

It starts, as most things do with Yoongi, after a night out.

He’d gone out with Hoseok. Wanted to blow off some steam after a long week for both of them. You’d sent him off with a kiss, a text me if you need a ride that was met with an affectionate roll of his eyes, and finally a have fun, love you that he returned with a smile and a kiss to your forehead.

Now, it’s nearing two a.m., and you’re in bed with a facemask on, staring down at your phone.

Yoongi had sent you a picture. It’s blurry and unfocused, clearly taken on a whim, but those are undoubtedly Hoseok’s hands. You’d know those slender fingers anywhere, but it’s the nail art that tips you off. Each finger is painted black except for his pinkies, which are decorated with smiley face stickers, sealed with an extra-shiny clear coat. Beneath the photo, two texts from your boyfriend:

Is this hard to do They’re cute

You snort, typing out a quick reply.

No, it’s not hard Why, you want me to do your nails?

You expect him to say no. Not because of some toxic masculinity bullshit, he just does too much with his hands. Chip a nail playing guitar? The acetone would be out immediately. Smudge the polish? His pout would be overwhelming.

So you’re surprised, then, when he says yes; when he sends you a few pictures he plucked off of Pinterest, accompanied only with a half-dozen question marks.

Yeah, I can do that, you send him.

Even more surprising:

Maybe on stream? We haven’t done one together yet You can finally do my makeup too

You shouldn’t be surprised by the numbers, considering Yoongi has been hyping it up for weeks.

Kept posting teasers. Had a countdown timer on screen during his usual streams. Acted all coy and shy whenever his chat would ask him about it. Could barely swallow his smile when they demanded to know if you were finally making an appearance. Couldn’t hide the way his cheeks grew pink at all, and that tiny crumb was enough to send the internet into a frenzy.

So, no, you shouldn’t be surprised, but the view count on Yoongi’s screen seems too big to be real.

Yoongi is as shocked as you, but there’s pride simmering beneath the surface. Not once has he turned down an opportunity to show you off. Refuses to keep you hidden despite how private he insists on being otherwise. Doesn’t want you to feel like you’re a secret; wants everyone to know how much he adores you.

You’re certainly feeling adored now. “Does that say thirty thousand?”

“Sure does. Think you can perform under that kind of pressure?”

You snort. Pinch playfully at his side. Yoongi squeals, twists away from you, but he’s more serious when he comes back around. Reaches for you as he settles, hands on your hips, thumb brushing the warm skin beneath your sweatshirt. “Thanks for doing this with me,” he says, and you know Yoongi means it the same way you say I love you.

All you can do is smile, suddenly overwhelmed by how fond you are of him. How it feels like your heart grows three sizes every time he flashes you one of those gummy smiles of his own.

“Of course,” you say, because there’s only—“Five minutes. You ready?”

He pulls a face. Asks you to sit for a quick light test. Spends a few seconds fussing over it even though you think it looks fine. Makes sure all your supplies are organized and at the ready—you decided to let Yoongi’s stream decide all the colors and stickers, so there’s stuff everywhere, and you can see how stressed he is.

So you reach out, smooth over the furrow between his brows. “Relax, baby.”

He huffs. “I’m trying, it’s just—”

“You’ve done this a million times.”

“Yeah, by myself. Not with you. Not in front of… Jesus, there’s even more of them now.”

You roll your lips to hide the smile that’s creeping up. “C’mere,” you say, sliding your fingers through his belt loops. “Everything is going to be fine, okay? This is just for fun. Deep breaths.”

Yoongi listens. Closes his eyes, sucks in a breath. Holds it for a few seconds before he exhales, and it probably doesn’t do anything to dampen the buzz, but at least he looks glued back together. “I know.” Another inhale, another slow exhale. “I just want this to go well.”

“It will.”

He looks like he wants to argue. Push back on it. But Yoongi knows you just like you know him, and he trusts you implicitly. He wants to argue. Instead, he says, “Okay,” presses a soft kiss to your lips, and that’s the end of that.

“What color did they decide on?”

Admittedly, you might’ve gone overboard. Surely you didn’t need to bring over every eyeshadow palette you own, but you wanted options, and now those options are coming back to bite you in the rear. There are too many.

Yoongi huffs. “I don’t know. I can’t scroll through the chat because you made me put my hands in this ridiculous thing.”

“It’s a UV lamp. You don’t want your nails to chip, do you? After I just spent all that time and effort—”

“Okay, okay,” Yoongi relents, and a familiar blush creeps up his neck. Over his shoulder, you can see his chat explode with messages. “You see what I have to put up with?” he asks them.

“Yeah, it’s awful,” you agree, leaning in closer to the monitor. “Hi, guys. What color eye makeup should we do?” The chat erupts again. Messages come in faster than you can keep up with. “Wow, there are a lot of you. Of course I’m going to do eyeliner. Oh—I’m seeing a lot of requests for purple. That okay with you, babe?”

“Sure. Give the people what they want.”

With a smile, you pat his cheek with a gentle hand, cooing at him. “So accommodating. Isn’t he the best, chat?” Yoongi rolls his eyes, blush deepening. You think he’d hide behind his hands if they weren’t still drying. “Okay, nails are all done. Want to show them how they turned out?”

Like most things with Yoongi are, it’s easy.

He sits patiently while you prime his skin, commenting on how nice it is, and he makes small talk with his chat. Tells them how the two of you met, how disastrous your first date had been, how Yoongi thought he’d blown it for good. He’s told all of these stories before, but it still warms your heart to hear them again—to hear the way he speaks each word with such care, such affection.

“Show them how beautiful you look with your eye makeup done.”

He rolls his eyes, but does as you request anyway. Once again, the chat explodes, and the amount of emotes whirring by nearly makes you go crosseyed. COUPLE GOALS!!!! stands out amongst the chaos, and you know Yoongi has read it because another slow, gummy smile takes over his face.

You do his foundation next even though he doesn’t need any. Even though the chat demands he drop his skincare routine and he admits he doesn’t have one. “It is so unfair that you have this skin and can barely remember to moisturize.” You pretend to boo him. “God truly has favorites.”

“Yeah, you,” Yoongi says, and it’s so quick, so automatic, that it catches you off guard. Has you spraying the setting spray before you can tell him to close his eyes. “Aish, what was that—”

“Sorry!”

“I’m blind,” he wails. “You’ve blinded me!”

“I did not—”

But you’re up and off anyway, disappearing into the bathroom for a wet washcloth. You can hear Yoongi’s raspy laughter from the hall, know he’s not grievously injured and is just playing it up for laughs, and you don’t mind. Loving Yoongi means seeing all of his parts, and you know he’s got a darkness in him just like everyone else, that sometimes he finds it hard to escape it, so you want him to be this carefree and joyous always. Want to hear that laughter all the time.

You’re hovering in the doorway when he says, “Do you think this is what they meant when they said love is blind?”

And you’re… struck. You can feel how much Yoongi loves you in everything he does; can hear it in every word he says whenever he speaks about you. He handpicks each one, wraps it in the care it deserves. Not because they’re fragile, but because he wants to, and that kind of love feels a little overwhelming. Has you blinking back tears.

You’re not going to cry on stream, so you take a second to get yourself together before you walk back in the room. Say, “Are you done being dramatic yet?” because it’s easier to joke, and Yoongi shoots you a smile that says he knows.

“Of course,” he answers. “Please continue. The chat is patiently waiting to see the final product.”

You make a show of looking over his shoulder again, at pretending to read all the comments. You press a kiss to his temple just because you’re there. “Oh, they are, are they?”

One catches your eye: is anyone else painfully aware of how single they are rn.

[saikoucorps]

You write for yan sim?

What's your favourite character??

Could you write something sfw about a gn!reader x Umeji Kizuguchi? I simped so hard for him back in my yansim days

Tysm even if you don't want to write it!

-🍋

Tysm for the request! Honestly my favorite is Ayato Aishi.. but "canon" character wise it'd have to be Megami Saikou. I'm also a huge fan of Info Chan, Nemesis, and Fun girl.

:ఌ¨ Sneaking out

꒰੭ pairings – umeji kizuguchi x gn!reader

꒰੭ genre – fluff, small drabble

꒰੭ tags – soft umeji (sorta), mutual pining, flustered umeji, reader is somewhat implied a delinquent

→ Reader gets the idea to sneak out, and asks their trusted friend Umeji to go with them.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

You had just explained to your friend that you had an amazing idea, a brilliant plan. You wanted to sneak out. With him. It was currently midnight, and you two were speaking over the phone.

"Duh, why else would I ask if I wasn't sure? You scared?"

You could hear him sigh on the other end, clearly annoyed.

"No—Just– Fine. I'll meet you outside your house in twenty."

You were already prepared, you didn't grab much but your phone and wallet. You were ready before you even called him. So, it only took you one minute to walk outside and wait. And surely enough, he was there in twenty.

"You better not make me regret this."

He was wearing something very simple. Like he threw whatever he could find on. He seemed really against this whole thing.

"Don't get your legs in a twist, why so mad? This will be fun!"

"It's not fun because I just woke up from my sleep."

Oh. That's why he's grumpy. He woke up to answer your call?

You decided you didn't feel like bickering today, and neither did he. You both began walking, and you didn't have an exact idea on where to go.. Umeji could tell.

"Where the hell are we going?"

"Uhm.." You dramatically thought to yourself on the possibilities, then finally decided. "The park! That's always fun, huh?"

He groaned before agreeing, and you two headed to the nearest park. It felt nice. The silence between you two, it may have been unexpected, but it felt natural. Umeji was willing to wake up and then sneak out for you.

You two finally found the park, Umeji headed straight for the swings and sat there. He was pretending to be mad, you could tell. So, you decided to sit next to him on the swing nearby.

"It's nice having you here, you know." You began, sitting down.

"What—?" He seemed taken aback, you could see a faint blush on his face. You pushed it aside, it was too dark to tell.

"I'm serious! No one else would have came out here with me, it was very nice you woke up for me.."

You and Umeji sat in silence, he couldn't even speak. He was clearly shocked by your words, and unable to voice his thoughts correctly, he grumbles out.

"Shut up.."

The two of you started up a conversation, it felt like minutes when in reality hours went by. He suggested you guys go to a gas station, and you did. You had gotten drinks and some snacks. It was nice, hanging out with him like this.

You and him walked for what felt like an eternity. It's rare seeing him like this, so quiet.. and not having that "tough" guy act. Umeji stopped and realized how long you guys have been walking.

"It's getting late." He showed you his phone, it was three in the morning. How long were you guys out?

"Shit. My house is too far." You started slightly panicking.. this technically was supposed to be very short.

"Crash at mine. It's only a few blocks away. Plus, it's too dark for you to walk by yourself. Cmon"

He started walking, you haven't even processed what he just said.

"You wanna bring me home? Really? How sweet."

"Don't push it."

You chuckled and followed after him quickly, it only took a few minutes to get there. He said you had to be extremely quiet, his siblings would wake up otherwise.

After a long night, you finally got to sit down. He offered his bed as he slept on the floor. It wasn't really an offer, no, he insisted you slept on the bed and he slept on the floor.

Moments like this with him were rare, but you always treasured them. You believed he did as well.

taglist ┆ @hannibalhhusband @zackfairscumslut

©@ saikoucorps 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way.. i will ram your booty if you do. all work belongs to me, the one and only, zero !!

[beamtori]

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲

demon (in human form)!ji changmin x afab!reader

it's a silly thing that brings you both to intimacy, but the intimacy is never silly.

3.0k words, smut (minors dni), incredibly soft sex, talks abt sex/dicks lol (if u can't talk abt it, then don't do it!), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it bro), penetrative sex, fingering, low-key body worship (f.receiving), so much kissing, pet name (sweetheart), mentions of a broken wrist and scars?

a/n: this is an extension to my fic night terrors on my main! there are a couple refs from the fic, but the established dynamic is a huge turnaround for me in terms of writing for changmin if u haven't read night terrors yet LMAO anyways, for me and @mosviqu ily bar!! <3

CHANGMIN HAD GROWN USED TO your random questions of curiosity. There was, after all, so much you didn't know about his world, and for the most part, he was perfectly fine divulging information to you and being honest. He cared about you, after all. Loved you, even. It was just what he felt around and about and for you.

“How do demons have sex?”

He nearly snorted water through his nose.

You glanced over at him innocently from where you were perched on the hotel bed, your phone connected to its charger discarded on the nightstand.

He cleared his throat, capping the water bottle and setting it aside so he wouldn't choke again. “Sorry?” He sputtered, thumping his fist against his chest.

Your eyelashes fluttered and you replied airily, “Do you have sex the way humans do? Like… vaginal penetration or…? Am I making sense? Do you even have a—”

“Yn, I have a dick,” he cut in, then made a face. “Why are we having this conversation again?”

The two of you were holed up in a hotel several hours’ ride from Moonstone Creek. You were currently on your way to meet one of Changmin's clients about a missing lucky witch's cauldron. Instead of shacking up at a motel, you insisted on staying at a nicer hotel for once. Screw saving money this time; your ass deserved a break after sitting in his car for however long. Maybe you should invest in a butt pad…

You shrugged, shifting your position so you sat at the foot of the bed with your feet dangling over the edge. You held your dominant wrist with the other hand—a month had passed since it had been shattered, and though almost completely healed, it was still a little tender. “I was just thinking,” you said. “Is it like a human d—”

“It's a penis, Yn,” he deadpanned. “You've seen one, right?”

Your skin warmed. “Of course, I have,” you sputtered. “I was just curious about your—” You stopped yourself. “That sounds wrong.”

Changmin arched a brow at you, braiding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the table across from you. “Supernatural creatures do have needs, too, you know. Sex isn't just a human thing.”

“I know that,” you shot back. Sex definitely wasn't exclusive to humans. “When was the last time you had sex?"

“I don't understand where this is coming from.”

“Are you a virgin?”

A laugh bubbled out of his mouth. “I think it's impossible for a demon to be a virgin in any sense,” he said, head tilted to the side, tongue tracing his slight smile. It was funny for him to think about, really.

His eyes fixated on you again. “Are you a virgin?”

“Me? No.” Even when you were working your ass off for your accounting degree, you managed to find time to socialize with somebody. It hadn't been that special, really, but the guy had been decent and not an asshole. By your limited scope, that was as okay a time as any.

The room descended into silence.

You could tell he was thinking about something with the crease between his brows and the muscle in his jaw twitching. You didn't know what it was, but you could read that much.

“So why haven't we had sex yet?” was the question that popped out of your mouth next. It wasn't necessarily directed for him to answer; it was more so a… thinking-aloud situation… right…

But by the surprise that flickered across his face, he was going to answer it anyway. “I—I don't know. I guess…” He scratched the side of his head. “I never really thought about it.”

“Oh.”

You could see the regret as soon as he said it.

He brushed a hand through his hair, stepping over to you and kneeling in front of you. His eyes fluttered closed for a second before opening again. “I didn't mean it—like that. I just mean that so much has happened that it's the last thing on my mind. I didn't want it to come off like I only wanted that from you.”

“I know you don't,” you said, leaning onto your knees to lower your face slightly toward his. “But we both have needs, don't we?”

“Are you saying you're in the mood?” He asked.

“I mean—I was looking out for both of us.” You sat up again, leaning back onto your hands, putting more emphasis on your nondominant one. He followed you up and stood between your legs, knee pressing down onto the mattress to lean over you and collect you in his arms.

You both tumbled onto the sheets, your face pressed to his chest and his chin tucked over your head, legs tangled together. “I don't know,” you muttered, “it's been a good month, and I guess I was just…” Insecure. “I’m being ridiculous though,” you laughed the thought away, “every couple goes at their own pace.”

His fingers grasped your chin and pulled your eyes to meet his. The eye contact was strangely intimate with him as it always was. “Yn,” he said lowly, “you’re not being ridiculous.”

He rolled his body over yours, arms bracketed around your head with your noses a breath apart. “Can I kiss you?” He asked in earnest, searching your face.

You nodded, eyes wide. “Yes.”

His hand curled around the back of your head as he lowered his mouth over yours. Your nose slotted beside his, and you raised your upper body to hold onto him and press yourself all the more close. You sighed, his tongue pressing into your mouth to deepen the kiss.

There had been a few other times you'd kissed before. There was no rush with this one. He took his sweet time with you, kissing you languidly, devouring you whole. His limbs wrapped around you like a python so you were unable to leave his grasp—as if you wanted to.

When you broke apart, you were flushed and his breathing was heavy. He brushed the hair from your face, your eyes glazed as you stared up at him. “I've never been intimate with someone I care so much about,” he confessed, his voice gravelly from the kiss. Your lips parted for his thumb as he dragged it over your bottom lip.

“Me neither,” you told him. You reached up to run your hand through his hair. “Is it scary?”

“The way I feel about you?” He wrestled down a swallow. “I'm terrified.” Terrified to break you, to lose you, to hurt you. Everything in between.

It wasn't always that you were given the privilege of seeing him so open and vulnerable. He had slowly become better around you, especially around you, but there was still a few things you had to get past. It was okay though; he just needed time. That much you understood. This was new to you, too.

“I'm nervous,” you admitted quietly, “but I trust you.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed. “I trust you, too.”

Changmin brought his lips to the corner of your mouth, then to the underside of your jaw. Your fingers buried themselves into his hair as he trailed his lips down the column of your neck as if to taste every inch of your skin.

Your heart palpitated in your chest and you held him close, neck craned to encourage him. A moan slipped from your mouth when you felt his teeth graze your pulse. The rough pad of his tongue swiped over the mark he left.

It was strange to think of how trust and love worked. It would be so easy to rip your throat out, but instead, he was here kissing you.

His fingers danced along the bottom hem of your shirt in silent question, and you guided his hand beneath the fabric and along your bare skin. You shuddered as his fingers trailed up your side and reached the edge of your bra.

He raised his lips up to meet yours again, eyes half lidded.

Your shirt came up and over your head, bra clasp unsnapping behind your body until your top half was bare before him.

And he looked at you under him with an expression you couldn't discern immediately. It was that thing he always did, the look he had in his eyes when he stared at you, but this time felt slightly different.

You shied away into yourself, one of your arms coming to lie across your chest. “What?” You let out a small laugh.

He swallowed, meeting your eyes. “I…” Changmin took your arm and brought your once-shattered wrist to his mouth. He pinned your arm above your head then, so he could see you. “Nothing, I just—you’re beautiful.”

Your resolve softened. “You can touch me.”

He kissed you again then, softly, one palm enclosing around your left breast. You shivered, your heart throwing itself up against its confines so it might reach the hand it wanted to be held in.

Changmin rolled one perked nipple between his fingers and you arched your chest up into his hand.

“I never say it—” He said, tongue swiping over your lips again for any and every taste of you, “—as much as you deserve to hear it.”

His lips met your pulse again, mouth trailing down your clavicle, to the pendant resting on your sternum. The pulsing of the scarlet mirrored your own racing heartbeat and gave your state of mind clean away. Every touch of his lips, lap of his tongue, nip of his teeth along your skin felt like he was tracing your outline and committing you to memory. Every inch of you, loved and worshiped and acknowledged. Not his to own, but his to cherish.

Changmin's shirt came off next, exposing a toned upper body marked in faded white scars here and there. Oh, to kiss each mark upon his body—an endeavor for another time. The twin to your necklace swung over you from around his neck as he returned himself to your embrace.

“You're beautiful, too—d’you know that?” You murmured to him between the breaths between kisses.

“Only if you show me.”

You smiled against his mouth. “Deal.”

You felt his mouth curl up in a similar gesture, his arms wrapping around your waist and pressing the length of his body against yours. His weight was a comfort, kissing him was a dream.

Changmin tugged the waistline of your pants down, fingers hooking in the elastic of your underwear, then pausing. “This okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, and you helped kick your bottoms off and away. He was swift to follow suit, the belt of his buckle clinking together as he slid it off, then his jeans, and boxers. You could see the outline of his cock strain through the fabric before his aching, reddened length slapped against his lower stomach.

“Would it ruin the mood if I said that probably isn't what your demon form dick looks like?” You asked cheekily as he clambered back over you.

Changmin rolled his eyes. “I'm tryna be romantic and all you can talk about is—mmmph!”

You silenced him by dragging his mouth back down to yours. He melted into you, weaving his hand between your bodies so he could drag his fingers through your lower lips. You jolted at the feeling, your hips twitching in his direction in a silent plea.

He groaned low into your mouth, withdrawing as he circled his fingers through your arousal. “Is this all for me?” He asked, dipping a finger into your cunt. His thumb drew dizzying circles into your clit, and you swore you saw stars.

“Yeah, 's all for you,” you exhaled, earning you a searing kiss as he swallowed those words.

You pushed your hips against his hand, a pair of his thick fingers filling you up and curling against the sweet, gummy spot of your inner walls. It was as if he knew exactly where to find it, and knew exactly how much pressure would make you rocket up toward white-hot bliss.

You whimpered against his mouth as the tension in the pit of your stomach wound up tightly. “Changmin—”

“You close, sweetheart? Wanna see how pretty you look when you come.”

His thumb branded your clit with his fingerprint and drove you to insanity. Blood rushed in your ears, head spinning as he helped you over that crest. You cried out as you crashed and the steady pumping of his fingers coaxed you through it. Your fingers dug into the muscle of his shoulders, grounding you as your legs shook and toes curled.

His fingers maintained their steady pace as you came down from the high. You imagined you looked like something of a hot mess beneath him, but when your eyes fluttered up to meet his, you were struck by the tenderness in those dark irises.

When you could breathe evenly, he withdrew his fingers and collected your come to thumb over the pearl beaded at the tip of his cock. “Are you—was that okay?” He asked, his free hand thumbing your cheek. You saw his jaw twitch as he pumped his cock with his other hand, slickened with both of your arousal.

You gave a breathy laugh, and he nearly stopped at the sight of your smile. “Okay? That was—that was more than okay,” you said. “Ji Changmin, come here. Let me kiss you.”

It was something in the way he crushed his mouth against yours this time, one hand cradling the side of your face like you were all he ever wanted—the other coming up to grasp your side—that had your stomach doing flips. And if actions spoke louder than words, you wanted to believe that he was yelling them at you now. If he couldn't bring himself to scream them from the top of a building, this would be enough.

Your nose gently bumped against his. “Can I do something for you?”

He replied lowly between kisses, “Another time. Just… let me do this for you. It'll be enough for me.”

You melted in his hold, as if he didn't make you a fuzzy-chested, dizzy-headed mess all the time.

You felt him nudge your opening, and you locked your hands around his neck. Slowly, you felt a delicious stretch as he pushed into you. Changmin groaned into your neck, the sound making you arch yourself into him further. His voice alone sent you careening toward your own climax, it was so sensual.

Once he sat in you to the hilt, hips locked against hips, he lingered to give you a moment to get comfortable. The girth of him filled you up delectably, the pain only the undertone to pleasure.

He raised his head out of the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah—” you nodded, “—I’m good.”

He returned the gesture, biting his lip, then swooping down to kiss you again. “You're doing so well for me,” he murmured. “So warm, so tight. Fuck, you feel divine.”

He pulled himself out slightly, then gave an experimental thrust of his hips. Your hold tightened around him, a moan slipping from your lips. He held you as he continued this motion, a steady and strong rocking of his hips against yours, cock dragging along your walls in confident strokes.

He tucked his head back into your shoulder, lips pressing open mouthed kisses to your hot skin. You could feel the dampness between your thighs dribble down your legs, and you were gradually clambering back onto that hill with your stomach twisting in pleasure.

His labored breathing filled your ear, followed by his mouth—marks lovingly pressed into your flesh and whispered in your ear. You locked a leg around his slim waist and met his thrusts, the pacing quickening slightly as you both began approaching your highs.

Your voice came out choked and desperate. “Changmin, I'm…”

“Yeah, sweetheart; I got you.” Changmin pushed himself back up to hover over you for the last few thrusts, his lips pressed together tightly and sweat dripping down the slope of his nose. He slipped a hand between your bodies again and worked at your nub—and it was all you needed to be pushed over that edge again.

You cried out his name, fingernails burying themselves in his shoulders. You clenched down hard around him, breathing hard and ragged.

You thought you heard him groan out your name as his hips stilled and he came. You exhaled heavily, his body wrapping around yours again while you both caught your breath and descended from bliss.

He left a kiss just below your ear and you cupped the back of his head and shoulders to your body. “Fuck me,” he muttered, rolling your bodies to the side, legs sticky and tangled together.

“Didn't I just do that?” You mused.

He chuckled, moving his head to bump his nose against yours. “Yeah, guess so.” Changmin gazed at you then, eyes searching and searching and searching. You never asked what he was looking for; you always figured he'd one day be able to tell you.

He licked his lips and a crease formed between his brows. “Yn… Yn, I…”

The voice inside his throat remained trapped, the words on his tongue froze. You looked up at him, glassy-eyed and patient, the tilt of your lips so sweet and terribly beautiful. He'd never been at such a loss for words.

You moved forward to press a kiss to his mouth. “I know,” you said. Even if he couldn't say it yet, you always knew.

He swallowed, a moment of silence falling between the two of you. His heart careened against his chest, and he was sure if the amulet he wore now had his blood running through it, the damn thing would pound away like a galloping horse.

He wondered how he got so lucky.

But though he couldn't express it in words, he would always find a different way to reassure you that he felt the same. Changmin leaned forward and wordlessly captured your lips again, rolling you onto your back and pressing every last word he hadn't the guts to say into this searing kiss.

I love you, I adore you. Thank you. Be mine, in life and death; mortally and immortally. Every promise, he would strive to keep.

a/n: at one point, yes, i will write abt sex in his demon form LMAO what did u expect from me 🤣 anyways, this turned out to be around the length of an actual chapter of nt haha

m.list

[thephantomsdream]

So I just have this idea in mind about a meet-cute with our dearest John.

[Notes: I am writing this at work, and it is raining, and no, I have no costumers, and yes, it is self-indulgent because why not. We're just vibing and dumping cute stuff with some spell-checking, but I could've missed something so I do apologize for that. No use of Y/N or Reader in this one.]

Imagine it's raining where you are right now and you work dealing with customers somehow, yeah? Anyway, John is in the city for work, as always, and he coincidentally entered your workplace. He's smitten, not gonna lie. I see him as the type of man to know, you know? Hell, he'll look at you and you'll also feel the want too, the way he's seizing you up, almost as he is planning how to slowly kiss you. I swear you can feel his warm and rugged hands running over your body, but you have to act professional because he's hot and you're most likely looking too much into things.

But you're actually not, yeah? He smiles at you, a little small smile, blue eyes flicking between your eyes and lips. And god, he fucking looks into your soul. If you have time to talk to him, he'll definitely ask you about yourself while telling you some things about himself, vague but enough to satisfy curiosity. It's also raining, meaning you don't have many costumers, so the conversation goes and he runs it smoothly. It's effortless, the way he talks to you and makes you comfortable. Yes, definitely, you can tell he's flirting with you, but contrary to some younger men, he's calm, he's not pushy, although he is a little in your space. Just a little intense, and you can tell he's like that all the time. Close enough for you to smell his cologne, close enough to hear his voice rasp as he finishes his sentences as he's a little bit distracted by your lips. When you notice and smile, he does too, naturally, happy to get a good reaction out of you.

But everything stops when he gets a message. His lips purse and he grunts, shoving the phone in his pocket and smiling at you, disappointment in his eyes. He sees you get busy as a client walks in, a little sad he has to leave and can't even say goodbye properly, but he reaches for something in his pocket.

"I insist. You said you didn't grab one when you left home, yeah? Take it, love." He says, pushing his damp umbrella in your hand. It was velvety and sturdy, and his hand brushed yours in the right way. Not too much, but enough to get an idea of how warm he was.

"John, really, you don't have to do this. How will you go back?" You'd question.

"Nonsense, I have my coworkers waiting for me close-by and afterwards I won't need it anymore." He did say he'd have to leave the city, showing no sign of wanting to ask you about... anything, really. No number, no proper full name, no social media. Maybe it was just meant to be a very pleasant conversation with just a costumer. It didn't help that you couldn't bring yourself to ask either.

You accept bashfully, smiling at him when he seemed relieved and happy to have you take his small gift. You then wished him a good journey to wherever he's heading. And good luck with everything.

It did look like the man wanted to say more than a simple "Thank you, dove." but he stopped himself with a nod then headed out. Basically rushed, honestly. It did throw you off, how interested he was and just how fast it suddently finished.

Rain stopped not long after and you didn't need the umbrella that day, ending up at home, put away somewhere safe. At least you got a good quality umbrella out of this ordeal, yet you couldn't stop thinking about him.

That story now behind, spring came full force and the rain did not come back until almost three months later.

Weather app lied, it seems, as you glanced outside the store and saw zero rain, and you sighed, having carried your (new and fancy) umbrella around with you all this time. As your eyes studied the outside scenery, someone walked through the front door and you already plastered your "Welcome, dearest costumer" smile when it faltered a little in surprise as you recognized the man that entered rushing in the store. Of course you would, as if you stopped thinking about him. As of today, you were slowly starting to think less about the mysterious John, having to accept that he was just passing by and that you were a little encounter in his busy life. But he was here. In your store. Again. Looking for something. Or someone...

Rushing through the door, almost out of breath, he scanned his surroundings in a milisecond to spot you already watching him. The relief was prominent on his features, making you feel excited? He looked relieved to see you, then he immediately looked a little hesitant, unsure. As if his legs brought him there before he could think it through, although it didn't take long for him to smile at you.

"Been a while, yeah?" God, his voice was even better slightly breathless.

You eagerly get to talking again, his chest puffed and his back stood straighter when you easily told him that of course you remember him because how could you not, really? Conversation was just a tad awkward, him searching in your eyes for something while trying to play it cool.

He pointed out the entrance with a small nod of his head and smiled as you both watched a few shy droplets of water finally hit the dry floor, seconds later it starting a downfall. His eyes locked back onto your face and he asked a simple "I trust the umbrella's been handy?" and to that you smile, explaining how you never got to use it but coincidentally, it was now hanging out in the back with your purse, since finally it was supposed to rain again (Weather App redeemed). To that he just looks at you, expression morphing from shock, to relief to amusement.

He had this way of commanding a room, having people wait for him to react and this would be the first time you'd notice a quirk of his as you yourself held your breath, seeing he was about to say something. He'd take a sharp breath, tilt his head and take a small step forward when he was going to say something intense, something from the bottom of his heart and guts.

"Would I be a fool to ask you on a date, love?" He'd swoop the the rug under your feet with that and continue. "Because I was a fool once to try to act subtle and I almost missed my chance." He laughs at something, something that will turn into a light-hearted joke between you.

As you stutter a yes, you also ask him what he meant. You weren't an idiot, he was interested few months back, but he never made a move, not even a subtle one, just rushed out. Just like that. Poof.

Funny, huh? How he slipped his number on a small piece of paper in the umbrella, thinking it would be cute for it to fall out as you open it. Also, he didn't want to bother you anymore at work, specially since you already had some costumers and he already took so much of your time. (They could've waited, but whatever. Ugh, that mindful dumbass.)

The first time you made him stutter was exactly after he explained that to you, as you raised a brow at him and asked. "What if I used the umbrella in a rush, in pouring rain and I'd never see the piece of paper fall?" It was indeed a question he surely asked himself afterwards a couple of thousands of times in the dead of the night, berating himself for it, yet he still didn't have a good answer for that, hence the stutter and the absolutely fucking adorable shade of pink painting his cheeks for a couple of seconds there.

The way John sees it is that he spent two months waiting for a message, a call, anything. He sometimes couldn't attend his phone but made sure that the number he gave you was always available, even if he couldn't answer immediately. Hell, he even pulled through missions faster to come back to base and look at the device and be greeted with disappointment. It took him a few weeks to accept that you weren't going to contact him and acceptance started to hit, although John can't really let it go before thinking of all the what-ifs imaginable (after some more weeks of sulking silently), so of course he checked the weather in your area after he left you. And of course he saw that in fact it did not rain again, yet he couldn't be sure if it rained that same day, and if it did, how much. Records weren't that clear in your specific area.

He needed to know if you found the paper or not. It was all he had to know. John Price was left stumped and in need of answers. Answers he came to get because John Price knew the moment he saw you that it would be too good to let go.

You had to check yourself, it didn't matter that it was at work with him there. You went back, grabbed the umbrella and opened it, and surely enough, with his observant eyes studying every single one of your movements as he followed right behind, you watched in fascination as a small piece of paper fell swaying side to side in its descend, as if mocking you.

"00xx-xxxx-xxxxxxx"

"I'd love to hear from you again. Call me anytime. John."

As you'd tell this story to anyone who asked you two how you met, you'd roll your eyes at John any single time. He called it fate, said the wait was worth it to see you watch that paper fall out of the umbrella, meanwhile you ways end up calling him an idiot. Lovingly. For such a bright man, he was indeed an idiot. Your idiot thought. (In his defense, it was the only time he ever attempted subtleties with you, learing his lesson and all.) One thing for sure? The story never ceased to bring a smile on your face.

[milaisreading]

🌱🩷: So, I had this one sitting in my drafts for a few weeks now. Tbh, this is my first time attempting to write Hetalia x reader content. Hope you enjoy it. And yes, I made Yn a Nordic state, bcs why not. We all love some chaos.

(C/n)- Country name

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. No warnings, really. Requests for Hetalia stories are open

🌍Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya🌍

"Why me?! You know I hate almost everyone." The girl asked her long time friend and ally, Finland, over the phone. The blonde laughed over the phone, which caused the other country to growl a little.

"Sorry, but you know how these meetings go. Every year one of us Nordics have to join these things. This year it's your turn, (C/n)." The said country cringed as Finland used her country name. He only used it on her when the argument was over or she made him mad.

"I know... Let's hope this ends well." She sighed, a little terrified of the meeting.

'8 of the strongest World powers will be with me in that meeting room... let's hope I won't be forced to sit between Russia and America again.' She gulped, finishing her call with Finland.

"It doesn't help that all of them hate me, too."

(Y/n) mumbled to herself and went to get ready.

"France, what's with those flowers?" China questioned, his eyes narrowing at the blonde. This caused Russia and America, who for once weren't arguing, to look at the blonde as well.

"Nothing, old friend~ you know I love roses the most." France smiles nonchalantly.

"Really? Then what's with that paper in the bouquet?" Germany questioned.

"What paper? Oh this?! It's just the bill!" France laughed awkwardly. He tried to take the pink paper, but America beat him to it and took it instead. France frowned nervously as Japan made a observation too.

"And you smell odd today... Did you use some cologne?" The Japanese asked.

"That'-"

"And why did you insist for our Nordic guest to sit so close to you? I thought you found Sweden scary, frog." England added in.

"What are you talking about, old friend? Sweden is a nice guy, I want to get close to him."

Russia and Germany sent him looks of disbelief, but before either could say anything, America let out a yell.

"France, dude?! You really are so uncool! How could you do this to me?"

"What?" England blinked, looking between the duo.

"What are you talking about?" France asked innocently, but America shoved the paper into his face.

"To my beloved (Y/n)?! Really?! And you are so casual to use my girl's human name, too!"

America glared at the French nation. France, angered by his last sentence got up and glared right back at America.

"Your girl? My beloved (Y/n) would never go for a loud mouth like you."

"(Y/n)? Do you guys mean (C/n)-san?" Japan suddenly interrupted them, causing the rest to realize what is going on.

"Wait, why did you buy flowers for her? And don't claim her so casually, pigs." China frowned, getting a little jealous. Russia, who was smiling the whole time looked at the duo, too.

"China is right. The little sunflower is too cute and delicate to be claimed by dirty men like you. So stay away."

France and America shuddered for a moment and the ominous aura surrounding Russia. And before another fight could start, Germany, England, and Japan spoke up. The trio was jealous and pissed as well by their comments, but they couldn't cause a fight now.

"Calm it down, all of you." Germany commanded.

"You all are acting like immature kids." England frowned.

"Let's all just take a deep breath for a moment." Japan suggested. The group slowly nodded their heads and one by one sat down. After a few minutes China spoke up, looking menacingly at France.

"But seriously, what's with those flowers? You are not planning to give it to Sweden so that he can hand them to (C/n)?" The oldest nation raised his eyebrow as France gulped and laughed nervously.

"Why not? Her and Sweden are close friends."

"Cut the crap. What's this all about?"

"Yeah, you have been acting off ever since you sent that invitation to Sweden." Now it was England and Japan's turn to look at him in confusion.

"I might... might not have invited Sweden this year... hahaha."

Now, France was usually a smug and calm person, but he knew this revelation would make room for a hellfire not even he wanted.

"What do you mean by that?" Germany narrowed his eyes.

"Acho!" (Y/n) let out a small sneeze as she walked down the streets of Paris, utterly confused as to where she was.

"I got lost...didn't I?" (Y/n) muttered to herself, getting her phone out to check her location.

'This is bad! If I am late, Germany will be pissed at me! And if he is pissed, he might berate me! Oh, I am so dead.' The nation gulped as she looked at her watch.

"Bella! I didn't expect to see you here!"

The girl jumped in surprise as she heard a familiar voice and quickly turned around.

"Italy?! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the meeting by now? You are always there early with Germany and Japan." The Nordic nation commented, sighing in relief that she wasn't the only one late.

"Oh~ I wanted to get some food before going. Here, take some~" The Italian said happily, handing her a few pastries he bought.

"Ah? You shouldn't give me these." The girl blushed, surprised by his kind gesture.

'But... Italy has always been like this to everyone.' She argued herself as Italy shook his head.

"I want you to have it. I tried some of the sweets in the bakeries already, so I am full. Besides..." Italy grew shy a little, but still kept his usual closed-eyes smile.

"I bought them for you. I remember you told me and China once how you don't eat prior to our meetings."

"Y-you remembered that? That conversation was years ago." (Y/n) blushed a little in embarrassment, but was touched by his gesture.

"It was important enough to remember!" Italy argued.

'He is such a flirt... well, he is a country of passion and romance, if I recall correctly.' The girl smiled gently and nodded her head.

"Thank you, Italy. It's really kind of you. But you came all the way here to buy me food?"

"France said the best bakeries are here. But why are you here? Yesterday I saw that you would be in our meeting too, this place is pretty far away from there."

"I... I kinda got lost." The girl said, genuinely sounding embarrassed. Italy blushed at her cute behavior and nodded his head. Without any warning, the European country took her free hand and started dragging her to a nearby parking spot.

"I-Italy, don't grab people like that!" The other country scolded him, but knew it was futile against him.

"Bella, don't worry. I will drive us there. I did come with a car, after all."

The words caused (Y/n) to sigh in relief for a moment as she thanked Italy for his help. But, that relief soon turned into panic as the words finally sunk in.

'Italy... will drive me?' She gulped as the approached the sports car.

'I should have prepared a will.'

Italy, oblivious to her panic, held himself back from skiping and humming in happiness. He finally gets to spend time with his beloved (Y/n) without anyone interrupting him.

"We will be there in no time!" The Italian said enthusiastically.

"Y-yay..."

'Is this my karma because I ate Iceland's pudding last week?'

"So... you invited (C/n) and not Sweden and decided not to tell us, right? Did I get that right?" Although Germany looked and sounded calm, France could tell the blonde was far from it.

"Surprise." The French nation laughed, pissing the rest off even more.

"You backstabbing frog! Why wouldn't you tell us this sooner?!" England yelled as America held him back from jumping the country.

"Yeah, what even was your plan here? Did you want to impress her or something?" The youngest country asked.

"My dear friend, I don't need to try that hard. (C/n) can tell I am a better pick without me even trying much."

"What do you mean by that?" Japan asked the French country.

"Women love a man who is honest with his emotions, romantic, and most importantly, can cook." The final being more a jab on England than anything.

"Hold up! That would include me, too! I am always honest with her!" America yelled in protest, earning disapproving looks from Russia and China.

"You yell, America. That doesn't mean you are honest. Besides, she always said she likes my cooking more." China laughed as he got a nasty look from Japan.

"Well, in that case she must like me more. She always compliments my cuisine and likes listening to my interests-"

"Same with me! What now?!" The two Asian countries glared daggers at each other while Russia was smiling menacingly at them.

"I think I would be a better fit for the sunflower. After all, we both grew up in the cold and I can also protect her better-"

"Russia, you scare her. You are not a better fit." Germany sent a side-glare at the platinum blonde.

"Same for you, old friend."

The once calm room turned into a screaming match between the nations. Neither noticing Italy and (C/n) walk in, looking at them in astonishment.

"Ve~ let's skip out on the meeting and go get food instead."

"I-" She looked at the Italian man and then at the rest, a feeling of defeat taking over her body.

'Why did I agree to this? I knew I should have stayed in self-isolation! Denmark will pay for it!'