#{ look i know it says drabble but this can also work as a starter }

[shadowyspectre]

Something was wrong. The strange sensation of wrongness began with the location he awoke in. The area was dead. It looked like the surroundings had been scorched thoroughly, black burned into the stone and earth. His hands were covered in ash, something small and sharp against his palms. After a closer inspection, he found it to be bone. Something about that information made him feel sick. He wiped his hands against his torn bottoms.

It appeared that his hands were not the only part of him covered in ash. He did not like the sensation of it against his fur. His hands moved through it, stopping at the matting he encountered.

Slowly, he pulled his hands away, deciding to deal with that later.

His lips twitched down, getting to his feet and leaving the crater. It was quite big, and he couldn't help but hope he hadn't destroyed the entire area. It'd be quite rude of him if he liked that. So it was a good thing he didn't. The mere thought of destroying this place made something clench in his chest. How odd. What was this strange feeling? It gripped at him and made his eyes burn. He rubbed at them, frown deepening.

Despite things coming slightly muddled, he noticed an ache coming from his chest. Careful fingers pressed over it, jerking back at the ache going into a sharp stabbing pain. His fingers came away bloody.

He blinked, and then blinked again.

That was...supposed to be inside him, not outside.

Huh.

He looked down, staring at the damaged armor that was stained red. His fingers lifted again, this time pressing more carefully. They ghosted over a large wound in his chest, right over his breastbone. It seemed deep, but not...too much of a concern. He paused. Why had he thought that? Not a concern? Having a wound in his chest this deep was a concern!

His hand dropped to his side, and he lifted his head to look around. He should....leave. Perhaps go somewhere to find help—

The simian flinched as a wave of dread pulled at him. An urgency was attached to it as well. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember what was so important. He'd been in a fight, where was his opponent? Did he lose? It sure felt like he did, waking up in a cater.

Move. He needed to move. The urge stamped into his legs, making him walk away from his resting place. But the urge grew, and grew, making him full on sprint away. He didn't know why he was running, but something deep down spurred him to run faster. His fur stood on end, the crackle of something in the air.

Move! That instinct screamed. MOVE!!

His chest was on fire, and a blue glow erupted behind him, the sheer brightness of it almost blinded him even if he was not facing the source.

The urge shrieked.

RUN.

And so he did, legs pumping fast as he tore across shattered and burnt earth. But it wasn't enough. The muscles in his legs bunched, and he leapt up, leaving another crater behind from the mere force. Instead of landing on the ground, he was met with something soft. There was no time to identify what it was, only that he was so far from the ground and moving fast. There was a roar behind him, a name? Either way, it was not happy. He fled, the thing he was on taking him far, far away.

Eventually, he noticed that the area he was over currently seemed healthy. Far better than where he was before. Only...he wasn't quite sure how to dispell this thing. It was comfortable, he'd give it that. But he wanted to check things out. A spur of something—something he'd label stupidity—sent him leaping off the soft thing.

He only had a moment to think, wait should I have done that? Before he smacked right into the ground.

Well, that wasn't fun. Now he's made another crater. At least this one wasn't as big as the one he woke up in.

He groaned, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. "Oh," he moaned in pain, "oh that was so not to good idea. Why did I do that?"

His chest hurt worse. Good going...

He frowned. Good going...

What was his name?

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 • 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐲

cw : MDNI - S2 Armand, journalist male reader, top male reader, switch Armand, sub Daniel, dirty thoughts, mentions of sexual interactions, nsfw, Louis is definitely third wheeling, sexual tension, fake rashid reveal, mind fucking, teasing, this is my old man yaoi, somnophila, Armand gets the old man pass, they eye fucked eachother so much, i needed a taste of these two sorry, when no one can do the work, you gotta do it yourself, power play, stalking, Armand is a creepy little cat, Daniels the confused German shepherd, my drabbles become so thought out why, consume at your own risk, not proof read.

You knew it.

You fucking knew it the whole damn time.

At first it was just a guess, just a joking remark made as you worked with Molloy with Louis interview. You didn't believe him when he spoke of vampires, but seeing truly is believing, and Rashid was the oddest guy you'd met. That sweet smile, those longing looks towards Louis, the way he almost seemed to be acting—

Oh but you found that out really fucking fast.

Spoiler alert, you can see the plot twist from a mile away.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Jesus Christ, it was about damn time! How obvious do you have to be before someone finally outed you as a vampire?"

Daniel turned to you in a somewhat shocked fashion, though he was mostly squinting towards you for some sort of half assed explanation you were going to give him, but Louis put his expression into words. "You...You knew?"

"Yeah, but to be honest, he wasn't exactly doing the best job at hiding it. I mean, even if he was trying to, it was a little too on the nose at the beginning. Also, not saying Rashid is a bad name, but you definitely don't look like a Rashid." You then happened to gesture to Armand who was now standing side by side with Louis. You knew you'd promised Molloy that you would tone it down, that you would stay tamer than normal for the sake of getting out of Dubai in one piece after everything was said and done, but now there were two vampires rather than the one. "Not to mention how obvious you are."

"Pray tell, how obvious was I?" Armand asked. So far he'd spectated and predicted you were just as childish as Daniel when he was younger. With eccentric thoughts and an active imagination. That you were simply in over your head.

Oh how wrong he was.

"Well, for starters...it never seemed like you were similar to the other servants? I don't think I dare even saw you wear a mask before, whether that be to simply hide faces or to prevent anything from spreading, I found that odd." You chimed. "Not only that but we've seen Louis drink from you, and yet someone as...lanky, someone who looked like a stick ready to break — no offense — but you walked away like it was nothing, while a Russian biscuit the size of a bulk barely stood for two seconds before falling out.."

Only then did you gesture to the other room compared to the one you were currently in. "Not to mention, when we caught you praying the other day, you prayed in the darkest side of the room. Even if you did walk past the light, it was briefly or almost unseeable. And God, from the way every time I turned to you and watched you practically eye-fucking Molloy, I wouldn't have been shocked to know that you'd met him before."

Armand's expression was unreadable, almost repressing his feelings. Especially after the last observation you'd made. He stood next to Louis who squinted in a questionable fashion while looking at you, and Daniel? He didn't expect you to suddenly come out like that, and so boldly, though that was simply your personality.

"Now, if you three don't mind, I think I'll go to bed early. After this whole fucking soap opera of a reveal, I have to probably prepare myself to take in whenever you came into Louis life and what the hell happened then." You dismissed yourself, not back towards Daniel as you made your way out. That stare Armand had given you that entire time was unnerving, but there was something behind it.

You then called out as you proceeded to make your way to your room. "And I hope that there's an actual Rashid! Or I will be very disappointed!"

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

God when was the last time you and Daniel had a good fuck.

Before the trip to Dubai, the two of you had different lives, and as much as you loved smothering the older man, you had a job as well. It was unfortunate that you two couldn't have your fun till after the trip was over, but at least Daniel noticed how irritable you'd started to get. After all, you'd been stressed before the trip and didn't expect things to take this long.

You groaned out as your hips slowly rocked into the others, his warm body against your own and lips kissing feverishly against his skin. You knew that he was trying his best to sleep, but you couldn't help yourself.

Not as if he minded, he's the one who agreed the two of you could atleast sleep like this.

"Fuck Danny, baby..." You rutted your hips up accidentally, causing him to groan out and nudge you as red took over his face, cheeks, even spreading to his ears.

"Calm down, I have to sleep for later so we can continue the interview.." He could feel your arms practically caging him, holding against the plushness against part of his stomach. Daniel could barely think with how tired he was, and you? You were full of energy at the moment, sleepy, but still energized.

"But you're so tight Daniel...so fucking...oh—" You slowly grinded yourself against him once again before finally giving in as he wrapped a hand back to run though your hair. "Needed this, bad. Felt like I was having withdrawals."

"From sex?"

"From you," you admitted. "And this tight ass..."

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The next afternoon, you and Daniel went to the small cafe to fill up before the interview, though he'd been chewing you out about your past behavior. How he knew you were always a stickler for believing in superstition, but to understand that these vampires were nothing to fuck around with.

You could have refuted that with the amount of evidence you had that those fanged people were hornier than a dog humping a pillow.

You joked about it, as if it was your second nature, but Molloy seemed more stressed out than normal.

"You're gonna get yourself killed in there, you know what they are, why are you pushing things so far?" He sounded annoyed at that point, watching as you rolled your eyes and tried to dismiss his emotions towards the situation.

"Jesus Molloy, you act like the world is gonna end."

"Maybe not, but you have no idea who these guys are. You don't understand how dangerous they can be. How dangerous they are." He urged on.

You laughed and continued eating the raw fish that was on your plate. "Sure," you drew out.

It was then that he stared at you. Molloy stared at you with that look, the look you knew all too well. He continued staring you down before you sighed and gave in. "Fine! Damn it, I'll be good! I'll tone it down! I'll...I'll play this little game they're trying to get at. But I'm only doing it because you asked."

"Look, I just want us to get out of this in one piece." He urged on, now poking at his food, appetite diminished from the idea alone. "I dragged you into this mess, if you want to leave, you can."

"Damn it Daniel, you know you didn't drag me into this, I wanted to come. Turns out the vampire bullshit was real after all, but you're dumb as a box of rocks if you think I'm just gonna leave you here. I'm going nowhere." You let out a chuff of a chuckle before nudging Molloy, giving him a reassuring smirk. "And I know that Daniel Molloy sure as shit won't let anyone outsmart him like this."

"Alright cocky brat, I hear you. Just be careful. Armand looked like he's two seconds away from ripping your head off last time."

"Oh, Armand would have already if he had the balls to do so. If anything, I think the real threat in the room is you know who..." Finishing the rest of your dish after popping the last piece in your mouth, you now gave Daniel the knowing look.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Fuck, Armand—no wonder Louis loves to fuck you in his free time." You panted, watching as the vampire squirmed below you. You held his waist with a bruising strength that would normally feel uncomfortable for any human. But you knew that the vampire was durable. Heating his moan and mewl as your hips slapped against his ass, back arching up into you like a needy cat in heat. You didn't let up either, slamming into his body with brute force behind every thrust.

It was only then that you heard the mix of Armand and Daniels voice, gray haired individual cursing out as he gripped tightly onto the pillow behind his head. His glasses were gone and his face was flushed red as your thrust urged Armand to thrust into him. The vampire turned his head, as if trying to steal a kiss from you, pouting even. But you ignored him, leaning over to press your lips again Daniel's as his eyes fluttered closed, lashes dotted with tears and a muffled cry leaving him as Armand rammed his hips, almost in a jealous fashion.

Your fingers then found themselves threaded in the vampire's hair, only to yank his head back while a cry escaped his drool soaked lips. "You listen to me and you listen to me good. You think..you're all hot shit for a vampire, but I really know what you really are — Armand," you hissed out against the shell of his ear, dipping your head down before biting directly against the side of his neck. Your canines dug down into his tender flesh — not enough force to pierce — but enough to bite down onto the muscle below, knowing the skin would blemish and bloom due to your brutish actions.

The feeling alone made him cry out, hips stuttering between both you and Daniel. It was only then that you heard Molloy let out a gutteral noise in retaliation.

"You're my bitch in heat, understand?"

As Louis continued his interview, retelling whatever he could recall while letting Daniel read Claudia's entries, you kept your mouth shut and kept your comments to a minimum — as promised. But your thoughts, they ran rampant as you keep eye contact with Armand, watching as his eyes pierced into your own soul while peering into your mind. You could see a shift in his face features, his shoulders tending up as your expression stayed unchanging like a statue.

"Sorry to cut you off, I'm gonna step to the bathroom if that's alright. Lunch doesn't feel like it's sitting well," you addressed those in the room as you moved your notebook out of your lap and onto the table. "You good being alone in here for a sec Danny boy?"

"I'll be fine — and don't call me that, Jesus..." He muttered, shaking his head and overall dismissing you as he saw the shit eating grin on your face.

"Just askin' is all. Last time I left, I came back to you slapping Louis. Still never got an explanation for that one..."

"I assure you, nothing will happen to Daniel while you're away," Louis assured, giving you a genuine look to try and persuade you.

"Whatever you say," you stated, not giving the other stoic vampire the time of day after. Not a glance back or a thought for him to breach. Instead you left and got into the bathroom before starting the sink and splashing water on your face.

Even as you tried your best to hide it or ignore it, you could feel you growing erection making into a tent against your jeans, especially at your own thoughts. You almost dazed out back there and didn't even notice, but you knew that you'd finally hit the mark with Armand. With the way he was staring you down, you wouldn't have been surprised if he confronted you about such things.

It wasn't until you looked up in the mirror that you saw those predatory eyes stalking you again. By the time you whipped around, you were almost slammed into the sink, grinning as Armand grabbed against your throat. There was no real strength behind it, just a placement.

"Pervert, snooping through my thoughts even though I'm pretty sure Louis said that doing such a thing was off limits."

"He did not say such a thing," he quickly addressed, sneering at the grin that stayed in your face. "Who are you to have such thoughts about myself."

"You didn't say much about it. But to mention you seemed like you were enjoying it yourself pretty boy..." Your hand felt against his own groin, your grin only widening at the erection he seemed to pull as well. Watching as he stiffened up again made your arousal flare and his eyes seemed to soften. It almost looked as if he was trying to stop a noise from coming out with how fast his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I know one thing, Armand. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want something from me." Peeling his hand from your throat, you grabbed his face and pulled his closer. He did nothing to retaliate, almost melting at the semi rough gesture. "If you wanna be of any help while we still have time...I think you could put that mouth to good use."

To have Armand on his hands and knees? It was as if Christmas came early. But God, he looked absolutely divine as he slid down between your legs. You could only hope that Louis wouldn't mind sharing his immortal partner, Armand.

The vampire Armand?

More like Armand, your personal cockslut.

You could only wonder how fast he could be before one of the others came to look for the both of you.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

[sleeplesssmoll]

May I request some suitcase family headcannons summer addition?

ill start

1. vertin is definitely rocking a button up pineapple shirt and those long a** dad shorts (Because she's our androgynous king 👑) with a straw hat to top it off

2 if they go to the beach instead of a lake in the suitcase there will be girls thinking vertin is a guy and trying to flirt with her

Confession: I don't like the beach so I didn't think about this at first, but now the brain is WORKING! Also, I love your ideas! You have me thinking about an entire scenario. Although, my mind focuses on Vertin the most lol so these probably won't be that interesting. This is more like a drabble than single HCs. The team heads to the beach because of a mission but they turn it into a vacation. Also, instead of a pineapple shirt, Vertin got this as a gift from the kids:

Suits and Ducks

Vertin tried to go to the beach with her suit. Desert Flannel and Blonney argued with her for a while saying how hot it'd be and so on. Vertin reminds them she crossed a desert in a suit and survived a shipwreck in her signature suit. She'll be perfectly fine going to the beach in her suit. It was the kids who actually managed to get her to change. Sotheby and the others gifted a silly shirt with little yellow ducks on it. They knew she wouldn't wear a bathing suit but they wanted her to join them! Since it was a gift from her crew, Vertin treasures it and proudly wears it in public at the beach. Outfit complete with bermuda shorts and a boater hat with a ribbon around it. Desert Flannel and Blonney tease her at first but they prefer this casual outfit instead of the stiff suit. Vertin looks like a dork but she's a cute and happy dork so they're secretly happy too. However, they're not the only ones to think that. Instead of deterring attention, Vertin catches the eye of a few beach goers since the shirt is a conversation starter. You know how it goes after that, our charismatic Timekeeper has a way of pulling people in once she starts talking to them. Also, she's pretty. Even if she's being silly, people seem to like Vertin's face. However, they give up on her once they see her crew, which happens to be full of beautiful people (Sonetto, Blonney, Desert Flannel, Druvis, Bun Bun, etc). The bar is high lol.

Eye of the Storm, Center of Attention

Sonetto was shy about wearing a bathing suit since she isn't used to showing so much skin. Desert and Blonney helped her find a modest one-piece and cover up that she felt comfortable in. She turned quite a few heads at the beach. She doesn't like being the center of attention, but she didn't mind the familiar weight of Storm gray eyes on her back while she splashed around with Regulus and the others. She made eye contact with Vertin on the shore. Vertin immediately tilted her hat over her eyes and turned her attention back to the bucket of seashells she and Eagle collected together. Later, the crew painted these shells together and decorated the gardens in the Wilderness with them.

Inner tubes and Ice Cream

Regulus is the captain of a giant floating inner tube. However, the others swarmed her “ship” and stole it. The pirate captain was thrown into the sea! When she went to complain to Vertin, she couldn't find her best friend. Her first thought was the one time Vertin mentioned she's not a great swimmer. Did the ocean claim her when she wasn't looking!? Then again, she survived being thrown into the sea while wearing a suit of all things–

Vertin spawned behind her with popsicles and ice cream. On one hand, Regulus was relieved but on the other, Vertin went to the store without her! The betrayal. They usually buy goodies together so the pirate can show her all the good snacks! Regulus forgave her when she realized Vertin bought frozen treats for all of them, including her. Vertin didn't want to interrupt her fun so she and Lilya went together instead. Lilya wanted to buy more alcohol anyway.

Regulus enjoyed her “rock n roll rocky road”, moved that Vertin remembered her favorite flavor. However their friendship nearly ended when she watched Vertin BITE into her Creamsicle (orange and cream pop). Vertin doesn’t feel pain or sensitivity so she always eats them like that…

Sonetto attempted to eat her blue-raspberry popsicle the same way after watching Vertin and immediately regretted it.

BBQ

Bunny Bunny’s BBQ smelled so good, other beach goers brought some of their ingredients over and offered to work together, kinda like a potluck where everyone brings something and the food is shared.

Night Fishing

Vertin doesn’t sleep at night because she naps during the day. She decided to try her hand at night fishing on the pier. She slipped out quietly so as not to wake her tuckered out teammates. Sonetto noticed she was gone because she hears everything that goes on in the Suitcase. She freaked out like usual until she found Vertin peacefully fishing on the pier. She sat with Vertin, using the Timekeeper's jacket as a blanket since she was still in her nightgown. Vertin tried to shoo her back inside since was clearly exhausted but she refused to budge. She ended up falling back asleep against Vertin's shoulder. However, Sonetto wondered if she dreamed the whole thing since she woke up in her bed the next morning. She didn't, Vertin carried her back the same way she does for the others. If Vertin is around, she sleeps like a log but if Vertin isn't around, she sleeps more lightly.

Vertin didn't catch much, but Satsuki prepared a Japanese style breakfast with it for her the next day. That breakfast ended up being “sampled” by so many other crew members that Vertin ended up nibbling on leftover BBQ to compensate.

She didn't let anyone touch her tea though. She'll share everything else but Satsuki's tea.

Kraken

Of course, this beach trip wasn't really a holiday. They were supposed to be investigating sightings of a sea monster. They almost forgot about it until Druvis and Lilya mentioned it in passing. Apparently the sea monster interrupted them while they were flying together on Lilya's broom over the water.

They managed to scare it off, but they need to take care of it since it's still a danger to others. The Timekeeper sets out with her crew to fight the beast.

The Kraken Calamari (Pavia's idea) they made hit different. Vertin made sure to save a portion for Madam Z and Tooth Fairy to try.

Home

When it was time to go home, Vertin decided it'd be nice to have a beach section in the Wilderness for the Summer. While she can't control the weather in her Suitcase, she can reshape the land. The others loved this idea. The Wilderness had other plans and it snowed on the first day of adding the beach. Imagine all these arcanists in summer clothes freezing outside (well, except the SPDM soldiers). They came inside and enjoyed hot chocolate instead lol.

Sunburn

They expected Vertin to get sunburn like some of the other arcanists, but she was fine. The Foundation's temperature training teaches them how to protect themselves from the elements with arcanum, which is why she crossed the desert and stuff without issue. Sonetto can do it too (she's really good at it), but she used sunscreen as a precaution.

Ms. Moissan made the children wear it too and used Sonetto as an example.

This means it was the young adults who suffered the most sunburn. Jessica was not happy about it. She didn't get sunburn, but Blonney did so she couldn't hug as much as she wanted.

[katyawriteswhump]

364 days later (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31 prompt, New Year's Eve/Resolutions I AM SO SAD IT IS NEARLY OVER!!!!

When Steve is hurt on New Year’s Eve, he discovers there’s only one person he can truly go home to.

WC: 918 Rating: T CW: off-screen/pre-fic violence including domestic violence. Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff. Established steddie.

Also part of my steve whump fic series (mainly steddie) on ao3

***

“I hadn’t a clue where else to go,” says Steve, an odd tremor in his voice. 

Steve hadn’t knocked, hadn’t announced his arrival. Eddie simply opened the trailer door and found him. God knows how long he’s been standing at the bottom of the steps, cradling one arm in the other. It’s dark, but it’s screamingly obvious something’s wrong. Steve’s hair is kinda ruffled for starters. 

“I mean, yeah, we have a date later,” Steve rambles, “being New Years Eve and all that crap, and… uh…”

Holy shit! Eddie jumps down to him, freaking out big-time. Blood smears one side of Steve’s face, his lip is bruised, and his harsh breaths cloud the icy air. Eddie wants to hug him tight; instead, he briefly clams up, super-terrified. He’s never seen anybody so robust appear so… brittle.

Gently, he cups the uninjured side of Steve’s face, curves an arm around him. “What the hell happened?”

“I did it, man. Finally. My dad… I, um…”

“Your dad did this?”

“He wishes,” Steve says, snarky.

Eddie seriously can’t fathom whether he’s lying: “Who else, man?”

“Got jumped leaving work, and I… I…” Steve’s wretched laugh crumbles into an even more wretched whimper. Eddie catches him, as his knees buckle.

“Okay, big guy, I gotcha.”

He bundles him inside, sits him on the couch. Steve stares spacily, hugs his arm, rocks himself. 

Momentarily, Eddie literally flaps. Then he grabs a chilled beer from the fridge, douses a clean cloth in water. He coaxes Steve into holding the can against his swollen wrist, while Eddie dabs the blood from his face.

“Gonna sting,” warns Eddie. Steve hisses. “Sorry, Stevie.”

“It’s fine. Christ, I’m okay.”

“Not buying that BS today. Not sorry.”

Eddie frowns, concentrating hard. The cut, fortunately, has clotted already. He binds Steve’s wrist with a make-shift bandage. Steve mutters about getting kicked a LOT, when he was curled on the ground, shielding his face. Eddie feels sick, soothingly shushes Steve’s gasps of pain. Possibly as much to comfort himself as Steve. “Look, we should get you to the Med—"

“No way. I’ll fix… Listen, I finally did it,” repeats Steve, as his eyes flutter closed.

“Yeah? Did what exactly, Babe?”

 “Carried out my New Year’s resolution.”

***

Steve barely recalls how he got here.

He’d driven around aimlessly. His wrist hurt so bad that he goddamn cried, too far gone to give a shit. He couldn’t think; he was drowning, sucked deep into thick, suffocating waters. Some crazy inner compass drew him to the one place he could pull for the surface.

He found himself outside Eddie’s trailer. Standing there stupidly, hurting and shivering. Not even yelling to be let in. Now, he’s inside and getting warm with Eddie, who asks again what happened.

Crap, does Steve even know?

He honestly couldn’t ID his attackers. Sorta knew why he was attacked, being guilty of so much these days—hanging with geeks, being a king that lost his crown, not to mention his boyfriend being Eddie ‘spawn-of-satan’ Munson.

Then his Dad.

The look he’d given Steve, when Steve arrived home bruised and bloodied. 

“He didn’t need to say it,” says Steve, head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. “It was written all over his smug-ass face. You deserve this.”

He’d yelled his butt off about Steve making trouble. Shoved Steve around a bit, knowing he was in no shape to fight back.

“I told him to stick it. Left with basically nothing. Okay, the car, though that technically belongs to him, and… Shit, where am I gonna go?”

His tardy reality check hits like a baseball bat to the gut. Huddled against Eddie, he’s shaking, breaths hitching, hating himself for it. Eddie wraps his other arm across Steve and holds him. 

Simply holds him.

And yeah, he calms a little.

“Seriously, don’t sweat it,” says Eddie. “You can stay here till you’ve figured stuff out. Forever, if you need.”

Steve glances up, swipes angrily across his damp cheekbone. “Uh, earth to Eddie? Wayne?”

“He’ll cuss under his breath. And love the heck out of you. Already does. What’s one more overgrown brat?”

“C’mon, he’ll—"

“Look, I’m genuinely blown away. It’s New Year’s Eve and you’ve already nailed your resolution.”

Steve buries his face again, and… Woah! He’s laughing. Eddie’s kickass painkillers are working, or… Screw it, life never sucks so bad when he’s with Eddie. 

“Leaving home was last year’s resolution,” he mumbles toward Eddie’s armpit.

“Oh.” Eddie plants a soft kiss on Steve’s hair. 

“Yeeeeah. I’m only, like, 364 days late.”

***

Eddie’s still freaking that he should get Steve better help. However, Steve is a dead weight against him, knee curled in Eddie’s lap, and refuses to budge from the circle of Eddie’s arms.

New Year ticks by, lost in a gentle, lingering kiss. Eddie ghosts his thumb, featherlight, down the uninjured side of Steve’s face. Steve scrunches his good hand tightly in Eddie’s hair, deepening the kiss more passionately than—given Steve’s bruises—Eddie dares.

“Happy New Year, Babe,” whispers Eddie, when they break apart. A sneaky smile plays on Steve’s lips. “What?”

“I hit a winning streak,” says Steve, “I’ve smashed this year’s resolution already.”

“Huh?”

“Do I really have to spell it out, dipshit?”

Fixing deep in Steve’s eyes, Eddie’s grin spreads slowly. Dammit, this was going down as the worst and best New Year ever, and sure as heck the most shamefully sappy:

Oh, I get it. Falling in love.

“Back at ya,” he says, and tumbles forward into another kiss.

[rattkachuk]

for the hurt/comfort starters I've gotta ask for mattdrai with "Please tell me I don't look as bad as I feel" please! <3

"Please tell me I don't look as bad as I feel."

Matthew frowns at Leon’s image on his phone screen. The dejected tone of his voice is more than enough to tell Matthew just how bad he’s feeling, but there’s also a slope to his shoulders and the stress in his eyes that he can’t miss after loving him as long as Matthew has. He knows how much responsibility Leon carries with him, and is very familiar with the helpless feeling of not being able to show up for your team.

“You don’t look great,” Matthew says truthfully.

Leon scoffs and rubs a hand over his face, “Oh, thank you.”

The image goes blurry for a moment while his phone re-establishes it’s connection with the shitty Boston hotel internet. He knows there’s not much he can really say to quell Leon’s worries, and it’s late and they both have a game tomorrow. Important games. He doesn’t know the full extent of what’s up with Leon, and doesn’t dig (he’ll find out later and chastise him for it then, just as Leon did to him last year), but he knows that it’s worrisome enough to make Leon call him in the midst of their playoff run.

“Hey,” Matthew says gently, “I know it sucks and I know that I really can’t ask anything of you that I wouldn’t do myself…”

“But?” Leon bites.

“If it’s really bad, please don’t push yourself,” Matthew pleads, quiet but sure. He can’t say much more than that. Can’t tell Leon that it’s not worth it. Can’t sooth him and say that everything would work out for the Oilers without him, for fear of the falsity of his words being too glaring.

Leon sighs, but is silent beyond that. Matthew gives him the space, doesn’t push, listens only to the faint sounds in the background of Leon’s room, and watches the soft flickering light of his TV. Matthew wonders absently what’s on.

There’s a set to Leon’s jaw, and he’s pointedly not looking at Matthew, but even through the pixelated video call he can see the shake to his body as he breathes in and out, “Matthew, you know-there’s just so much riding on this, right? What am I going to do if this season ends in another failure? I’m running out of fucking time, here.”

A pang of unfounded guilt hits Matthew, knows that Leon is a few years ahead of him and in reality it’s not that much, but in hockey it’s everything. Maybe he’s not as well acquainted with the hourglass of time taunting him just yet, doesn’t have to worry about the sand falling through the middle, faster every time he gets another blow to his body. Doesn’t know the pain of making it within reach of the thing he’s always striving for, only to have it ripped away in a blur before you can even get your legs underneath you. Every. Time. Matthew can see it ruthlessly eating away at Leon year after year, chips away at him and seeps into the corners of his being.

Matthew had been closer than Leon ever had, and he felt confident his team could do it again, could see his chances in the coming years only increasing. Coming from him, it felt wrong to placate Leon and tell him that next year would be better, when he’d already had so many years of loss under his belt.

“Then you’ll figure it out. We'll figure it out, alright?” Matthew swears, wanting Leon to know he never had to face this giant thing all by himself, that he didn’t have to cross any bridge without Matthew’s hand to hold, “I’m always with you, Leon.”

There’s a helpless gasp of air from Leon’s mouth, maybe the tail end of a sob stuck in his lungs, “Yah, yah. I know. Thank you.”

Matthew offers a small albeit sad smile, and they don’t say much else. Matthew doesn’t hang up, though, can't bring himself to sever the one line of connection they have in the moment. Leon doesn’t look in a rush to go, he’s three hours behind and has time yet. Matthew sleeps eventually and lets the video call go, so Leon doesn't have to be alone.

ao3 drabbles <3

[unkat]

Somewhere Down the Line (We won't be Alone)

@psiroller let me play around in their chilaios early 2000's gamer au--please check out their other drabbles which are so delicious.

Thank you Psiroller for all your help and support! <3

-

Chilchuck and Laios teleport back to spawn and make their way towards the guildhall to meet up with Senshi somewhere “more atmospheric for cooking than at spawn.” Even caring a little less about the roleplaying aspect, Chilchuck can appreciate the appeal. There is a bar and kitchen built into the guildhall, every piece of decor purchased with crystals saved from monthly subscriptions and major events. The central room also houses trophies from some of their most grueling raids, Chilchuck forever proud of the jagged black wings with an animation like embers of a fire from beating Asmodeus during the Apocalyptic event, their guild being only one of few to boast such a feat.

Senshi’s avatar is doing a dancing emote in place when they arrive, Izutsumi’s catgirl sitting in her idle AFK animation curled up on a chair. “He’s still active at least,” Laios remarks into the voicecall, the sound of his keyboard clacks echoing into Chilchuck’s headset before the message sends into the chat. 

>>LaiosTouden: Hey, @SenshiOfIzganda and @IZUTSUMI, we’ve returned from the hunt with ingredients.

Senshi continues his dance as Izutsumi’s character exits from sleep and idles instead. 

>>IZUTSUMI: Took you long enough

>>IZUTSUMI: Senshi’s looking at some yeast cultures

>>LaiosTouden: Really? I thought he didn’t have to start prep for another hour.

>>IZUTSUMI: It’s for sourdough. You use the same starter culture for every batch.

“Senshi’s talking to her about baking, huh?” Chilchuck remarks, only the sound of keyboard clacks as text appears on screen.

>>LaiosTouden: Cool, did he say how long it would be?

Message sent, Laios sighs into the mic, “Yeah, I’m surprised she’s interested she doesn’t act like she’s interested in much of anything.”

Chilchuck snorts into his mic, “You thinking of waiting around for him? I can get some wood and make a chest if you need.”

>>IZUTSUMI: Not long

“That’s okay,” Laios replies out loud, his character going into a combat flourish emote, as a counterpoint to Senshi’s dancing, “It doesn’t sound like it’ll be long. I’m volunteering tomorrow afternoon, so I can sleep in.”

Chilchuck directs his character to sit down in one of the nearby chairs. “Volunteering? I didn’t know you volunteered anywhere.”

“I do! Have for a while, actually! Before going back to school.” His chair creaks as he leans back and stretches with a grunt, “I work with a wildlife sanctuary north of the university, I think this is my third year volunteering? But now that I’m in the vet tech program, some of it counts as exposure working with animals, when I’m doing that.”

“Hmm, yeah?” Chilchuck replies, shifting into another tab to play minesweeper. “When you’re doing what?”

“When I first started, I did a lot of busy-work, like mowing the lawn, putting stuff back in the gift shop, printing pamphlets, stuff like that.” Chilchuck can hear that he has opened a drawer somewhere, probably wandering around his room. “But now I help check in new patients and feed the animals. They have wolves there, most of them hybrid wolfdogs surrendered by their owners, and I get to feed and play with them now.

Now he’s curious, and Chilchuck tabs out of his minesweeper game, letting the time tick up, as he opens internet explorer and navigates to Google, looking up “North Carolina Wildlife Sanctuary,” glancing around at the ones he sees and their proximity to where he knows Marcille works through the new maps feature. There’s very few listed, but he’s able to find only a stub labeling “Roanoke Wildlife Sanctuary and Rehabilitation” within twenty miles of a community college. He looks it up in a new window and finds that they have a webpage with a forest green background and text that doesn’t resize automatically, making him stretch the browser window to see it correctly. “You want to work with wolves when you have your degree?” he asks, scrolling down the page’s comic sans introduction to see cute pictures of animals, the gift shop, and staff.

“I would like it, but it wasn’t what I thought I would be doing, not as a career.” Laios remarks, the squeak of the chair announcing his return to the computer desk. “There’s a lot of exotic pets like reptiles and birds, it would still have a full-time clinic and not rely only on donations as much. Most of the actual vets at the sanctuary are doing it on donation or for a really reduced rate when they aren’t at their own clinics, so I’d probably be doing that too.”

Chilchuck clicks on the “Tours” tab of the page. Images of school-aged children listening to an older woman wearing the refuge’s khaki uniform while a younger man stands by holding a snake around his shoulders, resting on his arm. “Reptiles, like snakes?”

“Yeah! The refuge has a few resident snakes, some from the wild who can’t be reintroduced for health reasons, and some that were pets who we can’t introduce into the environment. There’s this one milk snake that’s really chill, kids love her. Oh, Senshi’s back.”

Laios turns back to hammering away on his keyboard as Chilchuck stays tabbed out, continuing to look at the website. “Do you ever work with kids? Or just the animals?”

Laios grunts in acknowledgment, and there are the pinging sounds of items and messages being exchanged from the other tab. “I don’t talk with people very much, but I carry the animals for visitors to take pictures with them or pet them.”

There’s a picture of that same man crouching on the ground next to a squeamish child, who is petting the scales of the snake and forcibly smiling up at the camera. There’s no way, Chilchuck decides, looking at the proud smile of the man in the photo, young and fit and handsome, someone who would never spend all his evenings playing a niche MMO optimizing his character every night.

He keeps scrolling. 

There’s the special notification of a ping, and he pops back into the Dungeon Delver’s window. Senshi sent a message, >>Thank you @LaiosTouden and @cctims for all your help getting these ingredients! I will cook these into a delicious meal, and you’re all invited to enjoy it when it is completed! Perhaps on our adventures tomorrow?

He quickly starts to reply, knocking his character out of it’s AFK animation. >>Sounds good, Let us know if there’s any other supplies you need, chef.

Senshi makes a smiling and laughing animation in response, then a thumbs up. Chilchuck types in the /wave command, giving a quick texted goodbye before logging off from the program, but not the voice call. “You like kids?”

Laios laughs, forced and awkward, “They don’t always like me. I think it depends on if they like the animals or not.”

“That’s pretty normal, for kids.” Chilchuck relaxes into his chair, “Sometimes it isn’t anything you’re doing, they got spooked by something they saw on tv, or because they’re tired and hungry.”

There is the loud typing noise from Laios’ mic as it takes him a minute to reply, “Yeah? Do you like kids?”

“Yeah, of course.” Chilchuck replies, glancing back at the minesweeper.

“You seem to know a lot about them,” Laios trails off at the end, typing furiously. Chilchuck furrows his brows, “Who are you talking to, Senshi still?”

“No, Marcille logged on. She’s asking me about some rp stuff. Trying to plan a time where we’ll both be online at the same time as Falin.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the plan?”

“Just tomorrow afternoon before the raid. It’s mostly for Falin and Marcille anyways, so I could hang out in voice call if you aren’t busy?”

“Sounds good.” Chilchuck murmurs and clicks on a square, grimacing as the yellow smiling face on the top of the screen turns to a frown and its eyes turn to X’s, a mine beneath his pointer. “You know, you can have your own rps, right? It doesn’t have to always be following your sister and her girlfriend.”

“I know,” Laios types a little more, “But I don’t mind, as long as everyone’s having fun.”

Chilchuck smiles, “That is the most important part.”

“What about you? You don’t do a lot of roleplay. Want to do something together sometime?”

“Us? What would we even do?” Chilchuck breathes a little laugh through his nose.

“Well, we do a lot of these hunts together, we can talk about that? Explore Laios and Chilchuck’s backstories a little?” His voice grows more stilted and awkward the more he talks, Chilchuck waiting for him to finish.

Chilchuck clicks to restart the level, reverting the emoticon back to its original cheerful state, “Sure, why not. We can always give it a try. They’re friends, in roleplay.”

“Yeah, it only makes sense they would hang out together too.” The chair creaks from Laios’ mic. “So, what about you? Do you like kids?”

“Yeah, I do.” He doesn’t know why he keeps talking. “I have a few of my own.”

“Oh.” Laios replies in a way that lilts upwards in the middle, like he’s surprised, judging, or. Who knows. Chilchuck jumps on it, “What, is that a surprise to you?”

“A surprise? Maybe? No? I mean, I didn’t know anything, but a lot of people have kids…”

“I don’t think any of us are like a lot of people.” Chilchuck flushes and turns back to the webpage. “I never said anything about it before.”

“But you were friends with Marcille before, and she and Senshi knew you for years.” Laios nonchalantly lays out, “And I know Marcille isn’t a college student. How many kids do you have?”

Chilchuck scrolls down the webpage to a picture of an older woman standing with the wolves. “Three, all girls.”

“All girls?” Laios sounds disbelieving.

Chilchuck grimaces, “Did I stutter? Don’t get any ideas, they’re all too young for you.”

“Oh, no I wasn’t thinking that,” Laios begins to talk more quickly, “It’s just nice to hear you talk about yourself.”

“Talk about myself? Those are my kids, not me.” Chilchuck replies, jumping to the review page. 

Laios is silent as he clicks around his PC. “Are you married?”

Chilchuck sucks in a breath through his teeth, “Separated, but it’s a mutual thing.” It isn’t quite the truth, but he’s not ready to go there. There is still a raw edge from no longer walking in the door of his house to the sound of the rest of his family getting ready for bed, a plate covered in plastic wrap waiting for him to eat in front of the TV. And the bite of unfinished paperwork, arguing through the phone with a lawyer instead of his wife, leaves him in a bad mood even now. “What about you? I’ve never heard you say anything about kids or girlfriends.”

“I don’t have either of those,” Laios replies, “I’m not really looking for a girlfriend, or having any kids.”

“Yeah, you’re in school, that’s too young to have any kids if you ask me. Good for you to focus on your education.”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to have a girlfriend, honestly.” Laios chuckles awkwardly. “Do you think the Demon’s Blade would work well with the Hellfire plate? Or would the speed boost from having the whole set and weapon be better than the increased crit chance?”

“You should be critfishing, with your build.” Chilchuck grumbles, “Attack speed is good, but consistently hitting that higher damage will be better for your comp. Toss it in Marcille’s spreadsheet and look at the damage per minute and not just the average per attack, to make sure.”

“Thanks, I’ll check it out.” 

“Now, what makes you think you’re never going to get a girlfriend?” Chilchuck teases, “There’s someone out there for everyone, I’m sure at least a few female characters have nice girls behind them, or veterinarians or something.”

Laios laughs even more awkwardly, almost scarily. “Yeah, I’m sure. It just isn’t for me.”

“What, girls?”

A moment passes in silence, and then another. Chilchuck scratches the side of his nose, thinking fast, “You know, my daughter had a girlfriend for a while, it’s not a big deal if you like guys too. Probably increases your chances of finding someone online, that’s for sure.”

Laios’ voice drops some of the fake cheerfulness that had been creeping through the last half of the conversation, and he sighs deeply before responding more authentically. “That would be nice.”

“So, no boyfriend either?”

“Nope, I have been focused on school and the sanctuary more, when I’m not gaming.”

“About that,” Chilchuck probes, clicking back to the outreach page, “Are you okay with telling me where it is?”

“What, where I work? Sure! They actually have a youtube channel, it’s a video platform. I can send you the link.”

That’s more than Chilchuck could have dreamed of. “Sure, let’s see it.”

The whoosh of a new chat message rattles through his headphones and he clicks on the link, finding it leading to a channel with the same Roanoke name as the webpage he had found earlier. There’s only three videos uploaded, a seven minute introduction video, and two with different animals in the thumbnail. He clicks on the introduction, halfheartedly watching the video recorded from a digital camera with a voiceover so much louder than the rest of the audio that it was distracting. “This is pretty official, having videos and a website.”

“I think it’s good, for educational purposes.” Laios’ chair creaks again, “I keep getting questions about pet snakes, so I thought it would be a good idea to have just some basics of snake care, and I know my boss is working on a wolf video soon.”

Immediately Chilchuck exits the introduction, mid-pan over the gift shop, and clicks on one of the other animal videos. A teal introduction frame with words in white font reading “Eastern Milk Snake” stays on screen for just a moment too long before fading into a video of the guy who was only a still image before. He opens his mouth and Chilchuck feels his stomach drop out, “Hi, uh, my name is Larry and I am a volunteer with the Roanoke Wildlife Sanctuary and Rehabilitation, and this is one of our residents, Mimi the milk snake!”

He continues to watch as Laios talks about snake care, the awkwardness fading as he gets more focused on describing Mimi’s diet and care. He’s hot. And he’s gay. Chilchuck had never felt uncomfortable with the idea of not being straight, he grew up watching pride parades and getting into fistfights when homophobes got too bold with his friends in high school, but he was dating his girlfriend, who then became his wife, and never questioned anything about himself seriously.

What is he thinking? Chilchuck settles back to watch, listening to Laios talk in one ear about Marcille’s spreadsheet and snake enclosures in the other. Laios is in school, barely older than his own kids. Besides, just because they spend time together and he fits the demographics of what Laios (or Larry?) says he likes doesn’t mean Laios is attracted to him. He’s not going to make that mistake of assuming every gay guy wants to fuck him.

“--But, it’s possible that paired with the Star’s Knight shield, I would have the increased defense without sacrificing speed.”

Chilchuck blinks, tuning back in, “Mhm, you aren’t a tank but you get hit sometimes.”

“That’s what I was thinking too. I think I can tailor the build depending on how much defense I need to survive being targeted between heal refreshes.”

“It’s a good plan, maybe you could get Marcille or your sister to make a spreadsheet for boss damage and healers.”

“Maybe, once they’re done with finals, we’ve definitely almost wiped from people forgetting that they couldn’t take one more hit.” Laios pauses. “Did you watch anything?”

“Not yet,” Chilchuck lies, “I’ll take a look after the call, it’s hard to listen to you and a video at the same time.”

”Okay! Let me know which ones you watch! It counts as community engagement.”

“Of course,” Chilchuck smiles against his better judgment. “You have any homework left? I remember you complaining about that essay-“

“-the one about legal issues with pet ownership, yeah.” He sighs. “I looked up some stuff. I get why they want us to do it, but it’s hard to read. I have tomorrow to work on it.”

Chilchuck is already scrolling through a page on the exotic pet market. “Come on, there’s nothing at least a little interesting about it.”

“It’s not that it isn’t interesting, honestly,” Laios comments ruefully, “It’s less fun thinking about how everything can go badly instead of making things better. But, I need to get six “writing course” credits and three for philosophy and ethics. Maybe I should have done creative writing and then taken a separate class for the philosophy and ethics stuff.”

“Maybe, but once you’ve finished this class, you don’t have to worry about it again, that seems nice.”

“Yeah,” Laios laughs, and it is sweet and addicting, making Chilchuck not want to do what he’s about to do next. 

“You should take a look into it. I have to go pick up some groceries.” Yeah, some beer and cigarettes from the gas station, and a highly processed snack for tomorrow at work. “Maybe you can tell me about it, later?”

“Are you trying to talk me into doing my essay?” Laios asks, almost incredulous.

Chilchuck leans back in his chair, “Depends on if it’s working.” There is a flirtatious pause that Chilchuck quickly fills with gruff excuses, “I do want to hear what you find, it sounds neat. And, it’s not as late for me as it is for you, so…”

They never hang out without discussing Dungeon Delver quests and goals first, so the offer is definitely not normal. Honestly, Chilchuck doesn’t even care that much about pet ownership, but he does care about Laios. The other man seems to be aware of the abnormality of this conversation, the promise of Chilchuck’s company, a potent carrot on a stick, more than Chilchuck realizes.

“It’s working. Yeah. Uhm, do you want me to message you in a few hours?” Laios asks, cautiously.

“Sure, that works with me.”

“Okay.”

“Yep.”

Neither of them hang up, even when the signs are all pointing to the end of the conversation.

“Okay, talk to you soon, Chil,” Laios replies, breathing into his mic again, “Good luck with the shopping.”

“Hahaha, it’ll all be fine, Laios.” Chilchuck replies, mouse hovering over the disconnect button on his screen, “See you.”

He clicks.

—--Mature content (BDSM, long distance relationship, daddy kink)

They’ve only put a label on what they share a couple of months ago, but it hadn’t been a secret how much time and attention they gave each other since meeting last year. 

What may have been more secret was how much deeper their relationship had gone beyond chaste in-game roleplay. How long they had danced right up to the edge of admitting their feelings, and then jerked off in private. How they frequently left the group teamspeak channels just to hop onto a private skype call. How willing they both were to make new characters that quickly devolved into avatars for their emotional and physical desires, before finally questioning the nature of their relationship.

When the episode ends, Laios is too busy touching himself to start another one. Chilchuck grins, the sounds piped into his ears have the shaky hisses from each too fast exhale whistling past the mic, while soft whines and hitches in his breath sound more muffled. Chilchuck traces his fingertips around the underside of his own cock, wanting this to last. "Are you hiding, pup?" He teases, letting his voice stay low, as the breathiness in his relaxed tone makes Laios whine nasally. "C'mon, I want to hear you, baby. Do you feel good?"

"Mhm," Laios doesn’t even open his mouth to reply, the response high-pitched and strained.

Chilchuck looks at the clock. They’ve spent ten minutes on this edge alone, the sweet torment starting at the beginning of the night, when Laios was still expecting just to rewatch his favorite show with Chilchuck. He takes on a firmer tone, "Louder, kid, full sentences."

Laios whines out loud, gasping for air; Chilchuck wraps his fingers around his cock in response, waiting.

"Y-yeah, daddy, I feel good." His voice is haggard and wet. "Please, Chil."

Chilchuck feels a pang of arousal shoot down to his groin. "Please what Laios?"

His partner on the other end of the line makes a frustrated growl as he struggles for words, "Please, touch me sir," and the next time he whines, it is open-mouthed, not competing as much with the breaths into the mic to be heard. "I need it."

As Laios struggles, Chilchuck begins to stroke himself at earnest again, "I know you do baby. Hands off."

There is a growl that falls into a hiss that grates through his headphones in the best way, and Chilchuck can't hold back a low laugh, the growl turning back to a pleading whine in response. Chilchuck's head feels fuzzy and heart aching. "You know what i'd do if I were there, puppy?"

Laios makes a bewildered whine, moments of silence passing before he replies, "...not touch me?"

There’s a bead of precum that Chilchuck swipes at with his thumb, adding to the slick slide of his hand against his cock. "Nah, I'd touch you, but you'd have to help me." He pauses to moan, putting on an easy show, "I'd make you spit on your own dick, so I wouldn't have to stop and get more lube."

Laios inhales sharply. Chilchuck presses, "Can you do that for me, baby boy?"

The mic is pushed away, Chilchuck holds his breath, receiving a shaking "Yessir," when Laios brings the mouthpiece back towards his lips. Chilchuck inhales and strokes faster, "You can touch yourself again, rub your palm against the head once it’s nice and slick, pretend it's me."

There is the squeak of the computer chair as Laios audibly jerks in his chair at the touch. Chilchuck shuts his eyes, imagining him fighting not to thrust into his own palm, teasing himself even more than usual, because that's what his daddy would want, nearly out of his mind with it. He wants to touch and look and tease so badly it hurts. "Good, good boy, so good for me."

Laios is whimpering into his ear, the sound so sexy that Chilchuck has to slow down before he blows his load early, "Good for you, please daddy, I'm so close-" he cuts himself off with a shuddering breath.

Chilchuck stretches in his seat as he speeds back up. "You gonna come for me?"

"Can I?" He's pleading.

But Chilchuck is still having fun, the clock not quite hitting ten. "I don't know, can you?"

"...May I come? Daddy."

"Hold it, give me one more minute. Stroke yourself."

The whines and words blend together in a continuous groan as Laios obeys. Chilchuck peeks at the arms on the clock as the second hand ticks down. "Thirty seconds left, pup. Are you close?"

"YES!" Laios cries out, exasperation seeping through the tears pricking his eyes.

"Good." Chilchuck glances at the clock again. "Ten. Nine...." He speeds up his own strokes, aiming to meet Laios at the end, "...Five. Four. Three."

He pauses, just to hear the growl forcing itself between clenched teeth from Laios’ side of the call, "Alright, pup, Two. One. Come for me."

He fucks his own fist to completion listening to Laios' ecstasy.

After they've already disconnected for the night, Chilchuck hears the ping of a new message, only a heart with a .jpg file attached. He jumps on the keyboard, You had better be studying or sleeping in this, it's past one am kid, getting no response. His ears burn as he renames and saves the fuzzy picture of a flushed torso, one hand smearing cum into its abs above a dick softening against its thigh, to a file within a file, Laios forgiven and forgotten (as always).

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Bad Day - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Rating: No warnings that I know of, just a bunch of fluff with the briefest of mentions about other enjoyable activities with our boy

Word Count: 800

Prompt #5 : Intertwining fingers

a/n: Okay, so I've been working on something for a while, and this is not that something, but rather a small piece of a different something that I'm really trying to convince myself to share. But for now, here's a small piece of that thing that I want to share for @browneyes-issac. I'm so sorry you had a horrible day at work and my brain wouldn't stop until I wrote this in hopes that it might help, even just a little. This is also my first ever released Frankie fic, and also my first time writing f!reader, and also the first thing I've written and shared on Tumblr in literal YEARS, so go easy on me. And if you like it, tell me to post the other ones that may or may not be sitting in my folders.

Masterlist | Next Drabble

Your day has been nothing short of miserable. 

As if a broken water heater hadn’t been enough, the standstill traffic on your way to work and the blown tire just two blocks from the restaurant gave you pause. And then you’d been foolish enough to believe that maybe, at least, work would be tolerable for once. 

But it hadn’t been, and now you're alone in an empty restaurant with a room full of tables still yet to be cleaned. Your coworkers had been no help, piling onto your load with table after table, nevermind your lack of a break. And then they’d left, all citing important events that they needed to attend while you stood, glancing at your watch as it told you your shift should be ending in ten minutes. Keyword, should.

A flash of headlights from outside brightens the empty room, and with a sigh, you head toward the front door, unlocking the deadbolt as Frankie appears on the other side. He’d agreed to pick you up when you’d called him about your blown tire, and he was, of course, on time. 

You're willing yourself not to lose it entirely when you breathe in his familiar scent, but it only takes a second for his wide smile to fade into genuine concern. “What’s wrong?” 

Saying nothing, you turn and walk back into the dining room, gesturing to the tables still stacked high with dishes. “There’s more in the kitchen,” you sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of you, trying to hide your frustrated tears. 

Slowly, he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together and raises them to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ll help.”

A laugh escapes you as you finally glance up at him, “You can’t.” 

Frankie’s eyebrows raise quickly, “and why not?” 

“For starters, you don’t work here. And you wouldn’t get paid. And it’s my job. You probably shouldn’t even be in here like this and you really can’t go in the kitchen and…” 

His grip on your hand tightens, causing you to stop your rambling. Without missing a beat, he counters your concerns with a plan. “How about you wash and I collect the dishes and bring them back to you? Then I can wipe down all the tables and rearrange everything out here while you finish up.” 

“Let me help you, Querida,” he continues when he notices you biting your lip, eyes flickering over the piles of work, and you feel him kiss your hand once more.��You have to admit that his plan makes a lot of sense, and it would probably allow the two of you to be out of here long before you would if you did everything on your own. 

“Okay,” you agree after a long breath.

Frankie looks pleased, almost excited, and kisses your forehead quickly before rushing off in the direction of the nearest table. He picks up a stack of dishes and follows as you lead him toward the kitchen. Once you’ve shown him where to set things, you head toward the sink to begin the cleaning process. 

He appears every minute or so as he clears the dining room, stopping in between each trip to kiss you. Sometimes on your forehead, sometimes your shoulder or your nose. Whatever part of you he can reasonably reach, and with each passing moment you feel the weight of the day become a little lighter. A smile here and there, a laugh when he kisses you in the crook of your neck before rushing back into the dining room once more.

Methodically, you scrub away at the dirty plates, working as quickly as you can. Frankie is gone for a while, probably cleaning the tables, and soon the pile dwindles down to nothing.

Strong arms wind around your waist as you rinse off the plate in your hands, a warm chest at your back, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Almost done?” 

You nod, pressing into him as you place the last dish on the rack. “Done.” You turn in his arms, and he doesn’t protest when your wet hands wind around his neck to bring him down for a proper kiss. It’s soft and warm, and you hum when you pull away to find Frankie smiling at you. “Thank you,” you whisper. 

“Anytime,” he returns, hugging you a bit tighter. “Now, are you ready to go home? Because I think I have the perfect remedy for your bad day.” 

His contagious smile finally transfers to your own face, “Is that so?”

Frankie nods eagerly, and you know the spark in his eyes well, so without another word you lace your fingers through his and tug him in the direction of the door. 

And later, when you’re laying in his arms, feeling sated and so very loved, your bad day is nothing more than a forgotten memory. 

Masterlist | Next Drabble

[thisapplepielife]

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I was tagged by both @wynnyfryd and @wormdebut, thank you both! (I only used AO3 fics. That's easier for me to sort through than Tumblr.)

01) Steve is comfortable on his back, laying against the trunk of his car, looking up at the night sky, when he sees a shooting star rush across the vastness of space. - {All Across the Universe}

02) Steve slumps behind his computer monitor at his desk, trying to make himself as small as possible. - {Secret Santa}

03) Eddie rests his forearm over his eyes, attempting to block out the way too bright sun and wipe the sweat away from his forehead at the same time. - {Permanent 99}

04) "No, no, no," Steve says, waving his hand in front of him. - {Steddie Holiday Drabbles}

05) Steve shoves the key into the lock of the Wienerlicious front door, and jiggles it just so, trying to get the damned thing to open. - {King Steve}

06) Steve sits alone at a small table near the fountain in the center of the mall a few miles from his house. - {If You Only Believe}

07) "This is ridiculous!" Eddie screams as loud as he can, from the bottom of the ladder. - {Let the Boy Be Merry}

08) Eddie steps out of the car, right between the Methodist church and the Hawkins High School building. - {Yours For the Weekend}

09) Gareth runs up and shoves Goodie into Jeff, and keeps running. - {Wake Up Time}

10) Diana hates doing the dishes. - {Crawling Back to You}

First, I like long sentences. I almost said run-on, but I usually love a good comma. Or three. I know this about myself. Long sentences, but short paragraphs. ("I want a fic with a short paragraph, and a loooonnnng, long sentence." - CAKE, probably.)

And, lol, I knew I liked to set up my POV right away, so the reader knows whose head they're in, because I appreciate that as a reader, but damn. A name as the first word 8/10 times is hilarious, even to me. I'll try not to be self-conscious about it from now on.

I think it's pretty appropriate that 4 of them start with Steve (Steve is my fav, and my draw into this show), 2 are Eddie, and one each for Gareth & Di. That seems to be a pretty accurate representation of my Stranger Things fic writing splits, haha.

(And for fun, yes, Take the Money and Run and Tuesday's Gone With the Wind both start with names, too: Steve and Eddie, respectively. And I just looked at my two other "medium-ish" unposted fics I'm working on, and yep: Steve and Eddie starters. Again. 🤷)

I also checked, and while I still like to use a name, I see that I'm far more open to starting a drabble with something other than a name than I am a longer piece.

Don't bore us, get to the chorus when I'm strictly limited on words, I guess. 🤣

Tagging anyone else that hasn't done it and wants to do it! ❤️

[imaginarianisms]

Before going into further details, I want to mention that in order to allow the actions below, you just have to leave a like on this post and to please not reblog! By liking this post, I’m going to assume that you have read my rules and got a basic understanding of my portrayal of the muses that are available by reading through my blog pages. I also take it that you are interested in interacting with my muse(s) to develop possible relationships ( positive or negative, platonic or romantic or otherwise ) with them. It’s required that we’ve have to have interacted in order for you to like this post - this is for Ask/RP blogs only, personals, do not like this post.

Go on, punch that ❤︎ button, I won’t bite, I promise! By liking this little beauty, that means you all are okay and are giving me full permission with the following from yours truly:

🌹 Write completely random starters and mention you in them.

🌹  Write headcanons about our characters, depending of course on the bond between them and tagging the other mun.

🌹 Tag other muns with their urls in pictures/videos/audios etc. that somehow represent our friendship or the unique bond between the muses.

🌹 Spam your askbox with any of my muses whenever, with any verse I have in mind. However, you can also suggest any verse or plot idea as well.

🌹 Talk to the other mun OOC or IC.

🌹 Contact the other mun via IM or discord whenever something new related to their character crosses the mun’s mind.

🌹 Send memes, inbox starters, turn asks into threads, request to plot with you.

🌹 Tag and/or @ you in random starters.

🌹 Tag and/or @ you in graphics or text posts which remind me of your muse.

🌹 Talk and/or to you via tags, instant messages or asks, if I don’t have your Discord.

🌹 Answer and/or reply to any of yours asks, text post or open starter anytime.

🌹 Invade your inbox at ungodly hours whether it’s IC or OOC, with an idea.

🌹 Contact you to plot or to set pre-established relationships. My muses need friends, enemies, old mentors, old friends/fling/colleagues, people they work with now, people they stumbles upon… there are many possibilities, no matter the verse! I’ll talk to you but please talk to me, too. I don’t bite!

🌹 Writing spontaneous headcanons, drabbles or anything else about our muses’ bond which could pop up in my head.

🌹 Making you gifts (Pinterest boards, Spotify playlists, drabbles, promo banners etc.) and tagging you in them.

🌹 Send you some love and cookies and wrap you in a blanket!

🌹 Be friends that have fun roleplaying and being dorks together.

🌹 Liking your starter calls.

🌹 Chill about the alien invasions and fangirl and finish each other’s conspiracy theories.

🌹 Showering you with love, chocolate, hugs and cookies!

🌹 Plotting and crying screaming and suffering with me.

Finally, by you liking this, I, in return, give full permission for you do all of these things but also be aware that I know your muse(s) and have read your own rules. Don’t be shy to come by and like this post, throw a meme at me or come and prod my IM space at any time.

Also, by liking this post you are saying that you have;

🌹 Read my rules.

🌹 Skimmed through the verses & about pages.

By liking this post, I am okay with the following:

🌹 IC asks and inbox invasions (also chill about alien invasions and the zombie apocalypse too and a bunch more tbh.)

🌹 Liking my starter calls.

🌹 Random Starters.

🌹 Plotting and suffering.

🌹 Random little gifts be it drabbles, drawings, aesthetics or anything else. ( I will love you forever and shower you with chocolate, affection and love tbh.)

🌹 Tagging me in stuff that made you think about our muses.

🌹 A simple chat over IM or Discord if we're close.

Any of these I am just thrilled to do because that means that you enjoy rping with me as much as I do with all of you wonderful and talented people! Thank you all for reading this, I’m looking forward to interacting with the wonderful writers out there and their magnificent muses! Stay safe, I love you all!  — Sincerely yours, with all of my love, Angie ♥

[boombambaby]

This is actually a question for Mun, if you don't mind!

I'm putting together a roleplay blog myself, and I was wondering if you had any advice? I've never put myself out there in roleplay beyond accumulating small rp communities/friends on Discord, and I'm kinda intimidated by being Perceived on a platform as big as tumblr /lh

Advice on making the blog appealing to other roleplayers and any general rp advice you'd be willing to share would be very appreciated <3

|| Hi there! I don't mind a single bit! Sorry for the delay, I wanted to make sure I made sense and gave you good information :)

First off, it's so awesome that you're looking to start a roleplay blog! I am huge on encouraging people to write and join the hobby, and it's always nice to see new writers getting started and sharing ideas!

As silly as it sounds, my biggest piece of advice is to NOT be intimidated. Don't be afraid to put yourself out there, follow characters in your fandom, share things, post your HC/drabbles/favorite ships/ideas/storyline ideas etc and reach out to other writers or groups for interactions! The more friendly you are, and the more you put your writing out there, the more traction you'll receive as opposed to just lurking around and liking stuff here or there. : ) I'm still new to roleplaying on Tumblr, but the first thing I did when I decided to make a blog here was look at other writers to get a general idea for how my blog should be set up. It's helpful for a writer to see right off the bat who your character is/their fandom/the writers writing style, and rules. Some writers are very cautious about writing with minors and won't interact if you don't have your 'age bracket' right on the front page where they can see it. Your blog doesn't have to be super big or flashy, but I always like seeing a writer with open starters posted, a simple list of rules and hashtag categories so I can easily find something if I look on their page. But the main thing I look for are recent posts with active writing! Someone can have the coolest blog in the world, but if they don't write it's kind of a let down! Even if it's timeline banter-- which I absolutely adore-- it shows you're an active writer, and that's what we're looking for. : ) Other general roleplay advice is this; Don't be afraid to check out other platforms. Tumblr is big, yes but there are other platforms/sites/forums you can write on! If you're on Discord and not opposing to branching out, you can search for your fandom (Disney roleplay for example) on Disboard and it will show you different roleplay groups listed there. When I first started with Kuzco and realized how dead the fandom was, I made an account everywhere. Here, Twitter, Facebook, Roleplayer.me, Aniroleplay etc. And I just started posting. IC statuses, drabbles, headcanons-- whatever came to mind, and started following as MANY people in related fandoms as I could find. You slowly build your friends up as you go, and can branch out and sometimes form connections between characters you never thought would cross paths, which is a lot of fun. I'd also say to keep in mind that it is ALL about the QUALITY not the QUANTITY. If you can write 1500k+ words each reply? That's awesome! But if you can write a beautifully descriptive reply in 500 words, that's just as amazing! Don't pressure yourself to do more than you can just to make someone else happy! Work at your own pace. Last but not least; HAVE FUN WITH IT! There's always something new to learn, but don't be afraid to jump right in and get your feet wet. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you as well, I'd be more than happy to in whatever way I can!

[librathefangirl]

Love your fics btw 🥺❤️

But 🦈 and 🍬 for the ask game ❤️

Thank you!! 🥺❤️ And thank you for the ask too :)

(Also can I say that I'm impressed that I've gotten 7 emojis for this ask game now, but none have been duplicates)

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

Ooh. For nnt I gotta go with daytime Escanor and Diane. I just... don't really know how to handle those two.

I much more prefer writing wimpy night Escanor than arrogant day Escanor. Although both will show up in an upcoming fic of mine (day 21 of my Febuwhump series, whenever I get to that one). So, we'll see how that works out.

As for Diane, I don't know, I just struggle a lot with her character. Which is probably why I have never actually written from her perspective yet.

��� Do you write for multiple fandoms? If yes, what is your favorite fic of yours for each fandom?

I mean, technically yes? If we're looking at both my early fanfic days over on FF.net and my current ones on ao3, I've got 60 fics across 12 fandoms. Although, this year I've only posted fics for nnt. Which I don't mind actually, I haven't been this inspired to write since I started writing fanfic (for Lab Rats) back in 2016.

Only 5 of my written fandoms have more than 1 fic posted, so let's look at them, shall we? Going oldest to newest:

Lab Rats - Betrayal

I guess it would be cheating saying my entire A for Always fic, since it's my advent calendar fic and is thereby a collections of 24 fics? (Actually that advent calendar was fun to write, maybe I should do something like that for nnt this year?). So let's go with chapter 2: Betrayal. This one's actually a bit different from my usual stories. It's more of an introspection and deals with Chase's (canon) experiences of betrayal and the emotional impact these had (that was't explored in canon). Over 6 years later I'm still proud of this one.

Lab Rats: Elite Force - Her Baby Brother

This one's a set of three drabbles, showcasing Bree's relationship with her little brother during different stages of their lives. I like this one because writing drabbles is not always that easy, plus at the same time I managed to make them feel like three parts of the same story with a similar structure. (Not a story for people who don't like main character deaths.)

Glee - The Boy with the Christmas Sweaters

Okay, looking back at my Glee fics was actually kinda hard, because the ship I loved back then I can't stand anymore. But I do like this fic! It's a Samcedes fic based on a Christmas prompt. Just some fluff and humor (a rarity for me).

Stranger Things - Trust and Needles

I have a total of 3 ST fics. All of which less than 700 words. All of which Stoncy. This one's just fluffy ot3 shenanigans combined with Steve whump. It might leave a smile on your face (unless you don't like needles or stitching, then you won't like this fic).

The Seven Deadly Sins / Nanatsu no Taizai - Who'll Hug the Prince of Hell?

This one wasn't easy to choose. They're all so new and all so loved. I think I'll have to go with this one though. For starters, it's my first nnt fic, the start of a new era and all that. It also includes a lot of things I love to write about; Meliodas angst, the relationships between the Sins and Meliodas, Meliodas getting the love he deserves, Merlin knowing his whole story, Meliodas and Ban being Meliodas and Ban, King dealing with his feelings and actions towards Meliodas after the reveal. Also, who doesn't love a story where Meliodas gets hugged repeatedly? (I should make Mel get hugged more often)

Anyway. Here's the list for the ask game, if anyone else wanna send me something :)

[rosetintedgunman]

" i know i can be an asshole, but... you always see the good in me. "

— u can make a new thread if you’re ok with abysmally late replies but i would also treasure a drabble 💕

@crushng (Starter prompt from here)

(Truthfully, with everything going on atm, a drabble probably works better for you)

-

The Roller was buzzing with activity. Groups of people could be found in each of the areas, and Gin was thriving with the attention from various guests.

However, Wilford was nowhere to be seen, and that ultimately paid a price when Gin got a little too snappy at a waitress in the diner who didn't make his preferred milkshake just right. Panic ensued to try and calm the regular down, but no one could do it.

That is, until a glass slammed down on the table in front of Gin.

An uncharacteristically irate Wilford was glaring down at him from behind the diner's counter. He was dressed in a neatly pressed shirt, with a fancy pastel pink bow and a pastel rainbow suspenders. While similar, it was a far cry from the more casual look Wilford wore in the Roller. Even his curls were tamer than usual.

"I hadta cut an interview short when I got a call that someone was havin' a temper tantrum."

Ah. That explained it. Still steaming, Gin opted to play it wise and bite the tip of the straw instead of bringing forth the wrath of Wilford. After all, the man was a paradox in and of himself. There was a lot that was a mystery. If Wilford could effortlessly create a place like the Roller, could form and destroy wormholes at will, without even considering a "pocket dimension" that he appeared to hide things in, this was a match that a black hole was not guaranteed to win.

(Besides, then no one would make the special milkshakes anymore if he was banned from the Roller when Wilford revived himself. :( )

One particularly loud slurp from Gin, followed by a low warning of "Manners" had the regular jolt back into the moment. At some point, Wilford had moved to take the stool beside him. Or maybe a blink had transported him there. Regardless of his method of sitting, Wilford was calmer in himself. The bowtie had been undone and loosely tucked into his shirt pocket, and he was in the middle of ruffling his hair back into place when he noticed glowing eyes on him. The reporter sighed.

"Look. Ya need ta relax a little more." He was speaking slowly, something Gin noticed when Wilford was trying to choose his words carefully. "Everythin' doesn't hafta go th' exact way ya want it to. If a drink isn't made right, who cares? Sometimes ya discover new things from a mix-up in th' menu. But ya need ta apologise ta that young lady." Gin tried to protest, but his drink was gone. Literally.

"Now."

-

One begrudging apology to a (rightfully) terrified waitress later, Gin slumped back onto the bar stool. In a blink, the drink reappeared and he was too sullen to care how or why he was being treated like a child.

Curiously, this time around Wilford kept quiet. It allowed Gin to reflect. This was the first time he had properly gotten in trouble in the Roller. And even then, it was just a light scolding and a punishment of giving an apology. Gin had caused such a ruckus that Wilford had to cut a shift in the studio short to deal with it, and he didn't leave after that.

By the time Gin was down to the final quarter of the milkshake, he sighed. "I'm sorry. I know I can be an asshole but... you always see the good in me."

There was a clink of glass being placed on the counter. Wilford, who had somehow gotten a glass of fizzy orange in the middle of all of this, gave Gin a smile that one could swear had a hint of sadness to it.

"That's 'cause ya feel like ya don't see it in yerself. Ya feel ya don't deserve bein' treated nicely when yer mean ta others or push 'em away fer whatever reason ya try ta justify. Not that I'm tryin' ta be some sorta psycho-doctor-whatchamacallit or anythin'. I don't know shit 'bout that,' Wilford laughed, "But it's somethin' I recognise. 'Spose ya could say I've seen it a lot over th' years."

If there was a moment for Gin to ask a question to finally try and learn more about Wilford himself beyond the persona he presented, it was gone before Gin could register the implication of the words.

"Ya deserve ta have friends, y'know. Not everyone hasta have some sorta 'purpose' or some sorta 'end goal'. Be someone's friend fer th' simple reason of 'just because'. There's nice folks out there. Even if they don't know th' story, they're still pleasant company ta have. An' when ya spend time with people like that, well... Ya start realisin' there's a lot more good in there than ya noticed."

[withahappyrefrain]

It's mansplain, manipulate Monday, and I think this deserves a prequel to how he got her manager's number and how they started dating because just from their chemistry, you can tell she played hard to get.

But this is only if you want to, please don't feel pressured. Your writing is incredible and you are extremely talented.

Hell yeah I want to make a backstory for a smutty drabble. 16+! Mob!Peter and very suggestive.

You Ain't Nothing (but a dog)

Summary: You never meant to get into modeling. You also never meant to get tangled up with Peter Parker. But sometimes life has a funny way of working out.

⍟

You never meant to get into modeling. It wasn't something you dreamed about doing. For starters, you were no Cindy Crawford.

But you were a poor college student who needed money. Joining your friend for a shoot that would cover half of your monthly rent sounded much better than waiting tables.

Apparently the 'in look' had changed. Cindy's face was out, your's was in. So you continued it because being able to pay off your student debt was a pretty sweet deal.

When it became a full time job, you're not quite sure. It was definitely after graduation and you were still unsure if you wanted to get your master's. So you figured, why not model for a few years and save up?

You didn't mind it. You had made some friends along the way, found a decent company to manage you. You were even able to go from magazine photoshoots to billboards.

Never in a million years did you expect that a billboard would be why you crossed paths with Peter Parker.

Much less be how he became your husband.

"Miles, make 'em hold still, will ya?" Peter never understood why they always tried to squirm away.

They should have paid on time if they wanted to avoid this.

Finally satisfied with his punches, he removed the now bloodied brass knuckle from his hand. He noticed some blood had gotten on the sleeve of his shirt.

That would need to be dry cleaned.

"You have until Friday to pay up. Then I won't be as nice." He motioned for Miles to follow him out of the building.

"That was you being nice?" His protege asked.

Peter chuckled, "I let the bastard live, didn't I?"

"I'll bring the car around," Miles knew better than to question Peter's methods.

Peter rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he waited, thinking of who else he needed to pay a 'visit' today.

He didn't know why he decided to look around the parking lot, but he's thankful he did.

Because there you were.

Or well, a picture of you.

You were stunning. From your bright eyes to the slope of your nose to the curve of your smile.

Fuck, he had to see you in person.

Luckily he had connections.

"Where to next boss?" Miles asked as Peter got in the car.

"I need you to help me with some research."

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

You were a pretty private person. The only public social media you had was filled with pictures of sights and food and occasionally animals. Not of your face.

That was smart. You kept a low profile. Peter liked that.

Though, it was frustrating he couldn't see more pictures of you.

Luckily for Peter, your coworkers weren't as private.

"This Watson girl definitely models with her," Miles pulled up a picture showing a redhead with other girls leaning in, posing with smiles and peace signs. Peter immediately spotted you in the photo.

Fuck, you were stunning with no makeup and minimal effort. A true beauty.

Peter stared at the various photos you were tagged in before clearing his throat, "So these are great. But I'm trying to see her in person."

"So I can tell you what we're not going to do, which is slide into her DM's. I know you don't know what that means, but trust me, it is not the vibe we're going for," Miles explained, "But I do believe I've found her manager."

"And you're certain this is her manager because....."

"Her, the Watson, and Brandt girl all follow each other. They also all follow this guy, Mark, who literally says in their profile they manage for a modeling company. And when I pulled up her Venmo, Watson Venmoed her and Brandt for 'Mark's bday gift'."

"This is why I keep you around," Peter grinned, "You got his number?"

Miles pulled out a sticky note that had a ten number digit written, "So you just gonna call the dude and say you want to go out on a date with one of his clients?"

Peter scoffed, "Please. May raised me better than that. Tell Felicia I need her to pick up and deliver a few gifts."

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

"Tell me again how this isn't the same thing as escorting? Because it sounds like escorting."

Your manager, Mark, sighed, "He just wants to get to know you and discuss a potential business deal over dinner."

You motioned to the huge vase of flowers that were delivered to you this afternoon, "Business deal?"

"People get flowers all the time."

You picked up the red Cartier box, opening it to reveal a diamond bracelet that you're pretty certain cost more than your college tuition.

"Business deal, huh?" You repeated.

"If you don't want it, I'll take it," your friend and coworker Gina said without looking up from the magazine she was reading.

Who the hell even was this guy? Peter Parker? What kind of name was that?

You weren't stupid. You knew damn well what a business deal over dinner entailed.

He was hoping to get into your pants by the end of the night.

"Look, you're going to a public place, Bella's, and-"

"He's taking you to Bella's? Don't you need to make reservations three months in advance?" Gina interrupted.

"You just need to have dinner with him. That's all."

"You told him I would go?!"

"I told the woman who works for him and dropped off these gifts," Mark paused, "Because she was very scary and intimidating, I did not want to upset her."

"See Y/N? He employs women, he can't be all that bad," Gina commented.

You were all for intimidating women. Just not when it landed you an unwanted date.

Which is how you found yourself outside of the city's most exclusive and expensive restaurants, about to embark on the weirdest blind date.

The date wasn't supposed to start until seven, but you arrived forty minutes early. You had to be first, you couldn't give this Peter Parker any advantage.

So when the hostess said she could bring you to "Mr. Parker's exclusive room", you just shook your head.

"Just tell him I'm at the bar."

The hostess' eyes widened, "Uh, Mr. Parker instructed us to walk you to his section when you arrived."

Instructed was a nice way of saying ordered. So the guy also loved telling people what to do. Great.

"Funny, because he never asked me if I was fine with that. If he did, he would have learned I don't go into private rooms with men I don't know," you pointed to the bar, "Again, I'll be over there."

The hostess was saying something, but you didn't care to listen.

The date hadn't even started yet and Mr. Parker could already go suck a fuck.

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

"It's the first date. Make sure you give her the chance to talk, okay?"

Peter furrowed his brow, "Why the fuck wouldn't I let her talk on the first date?"

"Some men love talking about themselves more than getting to know the other person," Felicia commented from the back of the car.

"Whenever you're not sure what to say, just ask her a question! Like what made you get into modeling?" Miles suggested.

"I already know how she got into modeling!"

"That is not public knowledge."

Felicia leaned forward, "you let her know you stalked her after she agrees to be your girlfriend. Your chances of her finding it cute are higher. Until then, play dumb."

Peter Parker was stressed. Which was weird because he never got stressed.

He had killed people before with his bare hands. Why was he now stressed about a date.

As if Miles could sense it, he began, "It's the first date. If you're nervous-"

"I am not nervous!" Peter said sharply, looking into the mirror to check his hair for the sixth time.

Miles fought the urge to roll his eyes, "Fine. It's the first date, it's okay if it's a little awkward. Just be yourself!"

"Minus the violent, illegal, organized crime boss part," Felicia commented, "You should probably save that for maybe the third date."

"You should also probably get out of the car and go into the restaurant," Miles paused, "Considering your date starts in ten minutes."

"I know when my date starts!" Peter hissed before looking out the window, "Did you see her walk in?"

"For the sixth time, no." Felicia commented, rolling her eyes.

"Would arriving ten minutes early make me look too eager?" Peter asked his right hand man and woman, who were fighting the urge to smack their boss upside the head.

"She's a potential love interest, not a potential enemy, Peter."

"True," He gripped the door handle, as if he was about to actually get out.

He turned to them, "It's just I had this idea that I walk into the room and she's sitting down at the table, y'know? And then I say-"

"Peter get the fuck out of the car," Felicia ordered, not even looking up from her nails that she was inspecting.

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

You sipped on your Old Fashion, your eyes darting to the front entrance.

This date was supposed to start in five minutes and Mr. Parker was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe whatever deity you prayed to, took mercy on you. Maybe he wouldn't show up.

Wouldn't that be something? Then you could focus on the absolute Adonis who just walked into the restaurant.

Adonis incarnated's brown eyes found yours. You sipped your cocktail, not breaking eye contact.

"Mr. Parker!" The man turned his head to face the hostess.

God. Damn. It.

You took a much bigger sip of your drink, the bourbon burning your throat.

Okay, he was attractive. Stupidly attractive.

You could admit that.

But he was still the guy who didn't even call you to ask you out. He called your manager. And he sent gifts and had his own private room in a restaurant and staff taking his jacket, all for showing off. All to impress you.

All to wield power over you.

You weren't going to allow that.

Which is why you couldn't help but smirk when you heard him ask the hostess "Why the hell is she sitting at the bar?"

You could hear the hostess try to explain what had happened as best as she could without saying you were being a stubborn bitch.

"Whatever, I'll get her myself," You heard him tell her.

This should be fun.

You turned your attention back to the bar, your eyes focused on one of the many expensive bottles of alcohol that were adorning the glass shelves.

The sound of footsteps quickly approached you. You continued drinking your cocktail, staring straight ahead. He was the one who set up the day, he could be the one who said hello first.

"Uh....hi." You turned your head, expecting to see arms crossed and a scowl across his face.

He was looking at the ground. Was his face red?

"Our room is ready."

"Nice to meet you too," You took another sip before turning to him, "My name is Y/N and I don't go into private rooms with men I don't know."

"Oh." He looked around, looking everywhere but you. Did he not do eye contact?

"Had you actually spoken to me beforehand, you would have learned that." You crossed your arms.

He finally looked at you. His brown eyes widened and his lips parted slightly. It was....different. It wasn't the lewd stare you were used to receiving.

He looked....nervous? No, that couldn't be it. No guy would track you down and take you out on a date if they didn't have an overblown ego.

"I uh....I can get us another table," He mumbled. He turned around, ready to walk back to the hostess' table. You could see his hands balling up into fists as he turned back around.

"I'm Peter."

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

You stared out the window to admire the skyline of the city.

It was an amazing view. It reminded you of how the city was still beautiful, despite of the not so pretty parts.

"It's beautiful, right?"

Fuck you almost forgot you were on a date with him.

You turned to face him again, the candlelight casting a glow over his stupidly handsome face.

"Yeah, it's a really nice view," You admitted before taking another sip of your wine that cost more than what you make in a week.

"It's gorgeous, though not as-"

"Gorgeous as me?" You finished.

It wasn't the first time you had finished a pickup line of his that night. The guy really had no originality. His lack of response confirmed it.

You stared straight at him now, waiting for him to start his next cheesy pickup line.

And your stare burned through him. The man could barely look you in the eye. He was shifting in his seat, visibly uncomfortable.

It was strange.

His honeyed eyes fell upon your bare wrists, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"You're not wearing the bracelet," He said. Well, more like mumbled.

"Nope," you shrugged. This was it.

Because you read the note that was written in that box. The note whose handwriting was way too nice to actually be his. The note that went on about how even though the bracelet didn't shine as bright as your eyes, he looked forward to seeing it on you.

He would snap. Finally realize you were only a pretty face and call the date off.

"Did you....not like it?" With those big brown eyes, Peter Parker resembled moreso a puppy that just got it's favorite toy taken away than a pissed off man.

"I'm just not much of a jewelry wearer," You explained, your tone much softer than you desired.

He nodded his head.

You shrugged, "Would have known that if-"

"I spoke to you beforehand?" You weren't surprised that he finished your sentence. You were more surprised at the sliver of a smile that was creeping onto his face while he said it.

You nodded your head, "Seems to be the theme of the night."

He was trying. Which was the most baffling part. Normally when guys take you out for dinner, they're not nervous. Or at least don't show it.

But he was obviously nervous and it was borderline endearing. Which was the problem. You weren't supposed to be enjoying any part of the guy.

You looked out to admire the view again. You feared if you didn't, your eyes would wander to his hands again.

"Excuse me, can I borrow that? And that?" You turned to see Peter talking to a waiter, pointing to their notepad and pen.

Without any questions, the waiter gave their materials to him. He turned to a blank page.

"So no private rooms or jewelry," He said out loud as he wrote it down. He looked over to your plate, "and no to Italian food, given you've only eaten half of the best ravioli in the city."

"Wh-what are you doing?" He could not be doing what it looked like he was doing.

"Keeping track of what you like and don't like," Peter said, like it was obvious, "So what type of food do you like?"

"Uh...Thai. And you're doing this why?" This date was not going on how you expected and you were still unsure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He looked up at you, a small, sheepish smile on his face. Fuck, his eyes were beautiful. Beautiful and soft.

"As you can probably tell, I haven't been on a date in years. I think it's also safe to say I didn't exactly put my best foot forward. So I want to blow you away on our second date by actually doing stuff you enjoy," He explained.

Bold of you to assume there will be a second date, is what you wanted to say. But your mouth couldn't form those exact words.

"This is your first date in years?" Was what came out instead. You were surprised. The guy was incredibly attractive, and clearly had money and power from whatever job he did for a living.

He nodded his head and oh, he was definitely blushing and it was cute.

"I thought it was obvious when I forgot to introduce myself," He mumbled. You leaned forward to get a closer look at his handwriting on the notepad.

The handwriting matched the note.

Peter Parker handwrote that note himself.

"You okay?" It took you a moment to realize he was staring right at you. You never had been into brown eyes, but his were so big and looked like browned honey and reminded you of Bambi and-

Fuck you were screwed.

"Yeah! I just..." You bit your bottom lip, "Why don't we get out of here? It's kinda stuffy if I'm being honest."

"Doesn't like stuffy restaurants," He wrote down. His eyes widened, your words finally hitting Peter, "Oh. Uh yes, absolutely. Where to?"

"Not your bedroom. Or mine," You said quickly. There was no way you were letting him in that easy, "Why don't I just drive us around the city?"

"You drove here?"

You grinned, "No, but I know you did."

He cocked his head in confusion, though the corners of his mouth had turned upwards, "and what makes you think I'll let you drive my car, angel?"

"You want that second date or not?"

He chuckled and you could tell he was debating it.

"Fine, but only if our second date can be this Friday," He countered.

You smirked, "Eager, are we?"

Now it was his turn to smirk, "Thought I made that obvious too."

You could have turned him down. You could have said no.

But where was the fun in that?

Besides, he was letting you drive his very expensive car. And as you would soon learn, Peter was very much worth keeping around.

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing vii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 4, 627

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

Despite being friends with three (well, now four) people on the football team—you didn’t fancy attending football games at all. It was highly unlike the usual scene you were comfortable with. It was loud, rowdy and people didn’t understand the concept of personal space when they’d shove and push others aside just to get a better glimpse of the players on the field.

Yet, you attended every single one of the football games—and you were a familiar enough face that the coach smiles at you when you hover outside the changing rooms; a simple request from the captain himself.

You’re a little shocked at yourself at the fact that you had no idea who Namjoon was prior to his introduction. He was the captain of the current football team, which apparently, throughout your college’s history—brought the most wins ever. And, he was also well-known that lecturers applauded him for his impeccable work-to-life balance.

Somehow, the divulgence of your own thoughts makes you frown. Because perhaps you were truly anti-social. You weren’t even acquainted with common school affairs in spite of being apart of the student council.

Maybe Jungkook was right.

You don’t dwell too much on your thoughts because you’re unable to, not when the door slams open and bodies of college men pour out with large shouts and their padded shoulders—looking very much prepared for their game.

The anxiety settles into the pit of your stomach when you realise you stick out like a sore thumb. The jeans and white top you were wearing was quite a typical outfit to wear to a game, with the addition of ironically—a baseball jacket. But when you were definitely smaller than the footballers; it was hard not to feel out of place.

Especially when they look you over before continuing out to the field. While you attended games before, you were never asked to meet in the changing rooms. Jimin and Taehyung knew well enough not to ask you, and Jungkook … well. You were always his dirty little secret, weren’t you?

And you see Jungkook first, grinning like a madman when another footballer brings him into a headlock and hollers something you assume is their hype-cheer.

It isn’t supposed to feel like this. Things were meant to have been settled, but the tight feeling in your chest when you look at him only reminds you that some things were hard to erase.

Before you can look away, Jungkook spots you—and he pushes the arms of his teammate off ever so slightly before turning to him and muttering a few words before he’s stalking towards you.

Your eyes widen, definitely not expecting him to pay you any mind.

“You’re here?” He furrows his brows.

You clear your throat, and you realise navigating a conversation with him after what’s transpired is much harder than you expected it to be. The fact that he was so casual about it when he left you with a kiss on your forehead makes you even more conflicted.

“I am.” You mumble. “I told you, remember?”

Jungkook blinks as if he remembers something, and his expression hardens ever so slightly before he’s schooling his features.

“Yeah.” He breathes. “I knew that. Just didn’t know you’d be … here.”

Here was probably referring to standing outside the changing rooms, and you can’t help but flush at the declaration.

“Um, yeah. Namjoon—” Before you can finish your sentence, you see the captain heading towards you with a large grin; looking over Jungkook for a brief moment.

“You’re here!” His words are exactly the same as Jungkook’s, but it evokes a different set of emotions in your chest.

You smile as sincerely as you can, which is proven difficult when you can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you.

“I am.” And you repeat the same thing you said to Jungkook. It feels odd, but you push the feelings aside. “Good luck, you.”

You offer a small punch to his shoulder, an awkward attempt at supporting him and you almost apologise but Namjoon smiles even wider.

His hand reaches out to your hair, gently patting it as he looks at you fondly. You don’t think anyone’s ever treated you so … tenderly before, not upfront and after one meeting at least. And you’re definitely flustered.

“Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here.” His dimples are on full show when he looks down at you with a kind gaze.

You clear your throat and look away, hoping the dim lights didn’t amplify the blush on your cheeks.

“Of course. We have that exhibition next to look forward to if all else goes South.” You grin cheekily up at him, words still soft.

You hope that your joke doesn’t rub him the wrong way, and it doesn’t because he snorts in response. All while Jungkook is silent.

“That’s a win itself, isn’t it?” He says smoothly, and your eyes widen at his blatant—or at least you think—flirting.

And before you can splutter a response, Jungkook is nudging Namjoon’s arm with his shoulder, the movement slightly rougher with his shoulder pads in place.

“We gotta go, Cap,” Jungkook says stiffly.

Namjoon doesn’t realise the hostility in his tone, but you do. And you frown ever so slightly, but you cover it up when Namjoon looks over at you with an apologetic expression.

“I’ll see you after the game?” He asks, eyes lighting up.

Your lips tilt upwards and you nod your head.

“Yeah.”

Namjoon jogs off first, not before grabbing his protective gear as Jungkook lingers ever so slightly, stuttering in his feet as you have the vision of his back towards you.

You’re about to head towards the bleachers, a spot that Namjoon purposefully reserved for you with help of his coach; but Jungkook turns around and his face is hesitant.

“Will you …” He swallows as you raise an eyebrow at his uncertainty. “Will you cheer for me?”

The question is odd, especially when you know that he’s aware that you were here for Namjoon. Usually, that would imply that you were rooting for him. But, you’ve never been able to say no to Jungkook. Not even when you want him to feel the same hurt you’ve felt.

“What friends are for, right?” You mumble, eyes darting to the ground for a second until you look back up at him again.

What you don’t say is that friends don’t do the things we did, or that there was no manual to teach you how to navigate the throes of your relationship after everything that’s happened. Nor do you tell Jungkook that you’re always cheering him on, but you can’t do it outwardly. Not tonight. Not for a while, too.

Jungkook’s face falls obscurely, but he forces a tight smile before grabbing his protective gear too.

“I’ll look for you,” Jungkook says.

Then he’s off, with a squeeze to your shoulder that leaves your heart feeling a lot heavier.

You ended up sitting next to the school photographer, who you now know as Yena. Prior to this, you’ve heard the student reporter club have a few intense individuals apart of them—word you heard from Yoongi, the President himself—and he was already as intimidating as one could get. But there was Yena, who essentially made people cower in fear when they’d make eye contact with her.

“What are you doing here?” Is the first thing she asks when you slide into your seat. Her tone isn’t condescending, neither was it purposely made to make you feel uncomfortable. Rather, she asked it in a rather bored tone—as if there were better things she could be doing.

“Um.” You squeak.

Yena rolls her eyes, “Relax. I’m not going to bite your head off despite my grotesque appearance. Ever heard of a conversation starter?”

You blink.

“You’re very pretty.” You say softly.

Yena narrows her eyes at you for what seems like forever as you clear your throat. Then, she snorts before patting you on the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean objectively ugly, sweetheart.”

The tilt of her lips make your ears flush and you never found yourself downright intimidated by someone, but there was something about her that made you want to listen to her.

“O-Oh.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re too nice, _____. Has anyone ever told you that?” She emphasises her point with a tilt of her head.

“N-Not really …” You mumble.

She sighs as she kicks her feet on top of the railings in front of her while her eyes follow the line of footballers that pour onto the field, already moving towards a group huddle.

Her camera is already in her hands when she snaps the shot like second nature, before plopping back into her seat.

“Well, you are. People are gonna eat you alive, you know?” She says pointedly.

You fiddle with your fingers before you find the courage to look at her.

“How did you know who I was?” You wonder out loud with furrowed brows.

Yena scoffs before turning to look at you with a blank expression. And it’s the worst part in you that makes you think that you’ve said something wrong.

“You’re kidding, right?” She deadpans. “Girl who made honours three years in a row? First female student council president? Lecturers pet? Curve-setter? The list goes on, really.”

You flush as you turn your head away.

“I didn’t mean …” You mutter.

She waves you off. “You don���t have to sound so guilty about it. You’re smart and you’re capable. Own it.” She shrugs.

You blink up at her with wide eyes, and for the first time; she properly looks at you and your surprised expression.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

When a whistle blows, the game has somehow started and you have half the mind to begin cheering like the rest of the crowd. But the awkward part of you remains rooted in position.

“So.” Yena leans in with a grin on her face. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

It’s … odd. Purely because you’ve never spoken to her before and you’ve briefly heard about her in passing when you communicate with Yoongi on pastoral affairs. And for someone to speak to you so freely and casually, like you’ve been friends for years—feels nice.

And it’s probably also because you didn’t have any girl friends that you could really trust. People on campus were … they were mean and they usually wanted something from you, whether it was to get to one of your friends or get insights on events so they’d get a boost on their reputation.

“Earth to _____?” She drawls.

You snap your head towards her and your ears turn red once again.

“There’s isn’t … any guy.” You confess.

Yena snorts as if she doesn’t believe you.

“Really now?” Her grin approaches a smile when she rests her chin on her palm. “You know not just anyone sits here, right?”

You shrug. “What about you? Who’s the lucky guy?”

She blinks, then leans back before kicking one leg across her other.

“Photographer pros. Or cons. Especially if you consider watching disgusting men sweat and chase after balls is something to be grateful for.” She rolls her eyes.

You laugh when she complains, and it’s likely the first time you’ve relaxed your shoulders around her.

“That does sound kind of gross.”

She nods her head as if to say right, before offering you a cheeky grin.

Then, her eyes zero onto the field, then back to your face—and eventually back to the field before she hops off her seat once again; waving her camera to signal you that she was going to carry out her duties.

You think Yena’s cool. A little intense, and kind of scary—but a nice person nevertheless. Maybe you were a blind optimist that saw the good in everyone, but there was something about her that you really liked. The kind of person you wish you could become.

The cheers get immensely louder, especially when you note that Jungkook’s scored a goal—his beaming expression displayed on the big screen while you hear girls and guys alike cheering his name.

It’s times like this where you’re reminded of how different you were from him. While he received praise and approval from the masses and was born to be loved by them. You were quite the opposite; the cheerer and the supporter but never quite the one receiving it.

His eyes skim the crowd, and you can see from the screen that his brows furrow ever so slightly. But he’s quick to return to his groove, fist-bumping a teammate along the way.

You sigh because even when you weren’t intentionally looking for him it’s like your heart only wants you to see what’s familiar. And funnily enough, the hurt is familiar too.

In the middle of it all, you try your best to smile—and throw in a small whoop on your own, hoping to blend in but be present enough to be heard.

Yena returns only when it’s half-time, her own body covered in sweat while she huffs, slapping a stray strand of hair away from her face.

“God. You’d think they’d slow down after fifteen minutes but nooo. They have to go flex on their fragile masculinities because they think growling and ripping off their shirts is peak alpha male character.” Yena mutters and it’s the first thing you hear from her.

You offer her a sympathetic smile before digging into your bag and pulling out a handkerchief, one that you always carry around.

“Here.” You smile at her toothily.

Yena eyes the fabric sceptically before looking at your face and back to the handkerchief.

“You sure?”

You nod your head, jutting out your hand once more to emphasise your point.

“Ah. I can see why Namjoon nabbed you up.” Yena coos, ruffling your hair as your eyes widen.

“H-How—?”

“How did I know? Well besides the fact that my job is to literally stick with the team and capture moments and make them look pretty—I’m nosey.” Yena shrugs and your face pales. “Oh, and I saw you guys at the changing room too.”

If she saw … that meant—

“Thought you were with the meathead Jeon for a moment.” Yena snorts.

Your eyes dart down to your lap, and Yena picks up on your silence immediately. But unlike the conventional person; despite her curiousity, she respected your privacy more. So she doesn’t, she just offers you a smile and a nudge to your shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Yena assures, sighing as the voices of the footballers fill your area as they come up for refreshment. “He’s nice.” You weren’t sure who she was referring to so you just nod.

“Yena—pass me a bottle!” A boy calls, and you half expect her to do so, but instead, she delivers him one better—a middle finger.

“Get it your self you dickwad!” Yena calls back.

Your eyes widen when you turn your head to look at her, completely unbothered when the footballer shoots daggers at her nonchalant figure.

“Men. Think you always owe them something.” She scoffs.

You find yourself unconsciously nodding your head, and once again Yena recognises the gesture but doesn’t mention anything.

Instead, she turns towards you and levels you with a wide grin of her own.

“You’re cool. We should hang out.”

The declaration makes your eyes widen even more and you realise how much you’ve fumbled and made yourself look … stiff the entire time you were attempting to converse with Yena. But she seemed to be unbothered, and the thought makes you excited.

“We should?” You parrot with a squeak.

She nods and you’re still finding it hard to process the fact that she’d brought that up out of the blue.

You weren’t bad company. But you were … you.

“You’re like Ms Bona Fide.” Yena tuts. “People these days are either out to please or to receive.”

You furrow your brows.

“And I’m … not?” You say softly.

“You’re present.” Yena shrugs and throws you an easy-going smile.

God. She was so cool.

Namjoon scores the final goal.

You expect him to call the hangout off because, well, he’d closed the game and he was the captain. It was only normal that he’d want to celebrate.

So when Yena nudges your shoulders while your head is bent and focused on your mobile device, you slowly looked up with furrowed brows to see her cocking her head to the side with a knowing grin on her face.

And you see Namjoon, out of his gear and in a plain t-shirt and sweats while he waves at you.

You can’t help but gape at him.

“I see you’ve surrendered to good company instead of a zoo.” Yena greets Namjoon first with a snort.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and you gauge that they’re at least well-acquainted. Acquainted enough that Namjoon subtly tries to flick her off, but you catch the gesture as soon as it comes.

“Promises are promises.” Namjoon shrugs as if he wasn’t aware that you were still gaping at him. Mouth open like a fish out of the water.

“Well—be nice, captain.” Yena whistles, throwing her camera into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder before she turns to look at you, a gentle nudge with her shoulder to yours as she levels you with an intentional look in her eyes.

“Don’t start any fights, Yena.” Namjoon gently chides, but his tone is joking.

Yena waves him off, then waves at you one last time, leaning down to whisper something into your ear that has you flushing.

“Tell me how it goes when we hang out.”

And she leaves you with a keen sense of excitement on the prospect of a new friend like her to look forward to hanging out with.

Namjoon looks over at you, and gently reaches for the tote bag you’ve slung over your shoulder as he tugs it off you with a soft pull.

“Let me.” His smile is all teeth and dimpled grins when you reluctantly let him take your bag from you.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyes attempting to look at him but his gaze is so focused on yours that you find it difficult to make eye contact.

“We’ve got an exhibition to go to, don’t we?”

You nod your head enthusiastically as he chuckles, allowing you to lead the way as you find a little prep in your steps. It was nice. Having a friend like Namjoon.

“Captain’s not coming?” Yugyeom groans, ruffling his hair with a towel as the rest of the footballers filter out of the changing room.

Jimin snorts in response. “No. He’s got a date.” The emphasis on the word date is obvious in the immature sense, evoking wide eyes as responses.

“He bailed on us for some pussy?!” Yugyeom cries.

Jungkook has to clench his fists by his side when he hears how his teammate casually referred to you as just some pussy. You weren’t just … that.

“Watch your tone,” Jimin growls, and Jungkook’s thankful that Jimin was more of the confrontational type and didn’t allow shit like this to slide easily. Especially when it came to you. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

Yugyeom’s eyes widened before gawking at the blonde boy.

“You mean Namjoon is going on a date with _____?” The rest of the footballers murmur in response, possibly out of confusion. “How did they—doesn’t she not … date?”

Jimin sighs, already ready with a response on the tip of his tongue but Jeonghan, the keeper interjects.

“Wait, I was under the impression that she and Jeon were a thing?”

At the mention of his name tangled with yours, Jungkook, who has been relatively silent throughout, freezes as his hands stop rummaging through his duffel bag while he tries to ignore the inquisitive stares he’s receiving from his teammates.

“W-What?” Jungkook stutters caught off guard.

Yugyeom narrows his eyes at the boy, while Jimin silently observes with an unreadable expression.

“Now that you mention it …” He trails off, head tilting upwards as if he was deep in thought. “I did always see the two of them alone with each other.”

Jungkook clears his throat as he lets out a nervous chuckle, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

“We’re friends,” Jungkook says stiffly and he hopes it’s believable, despite his hoarse voice. “Friends hang out.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Or she’s a two-timer.”

This time, Jungkook can’t keep his face neutral.

“Talk about her like that one more time and I’ll make sure you never speak again.” He growls to the other boy, whose eyes widen in response.

“I was kidding—” He raises his hands in defense but Jungkook is shoving the remainder of his belongings into his duffel bag before hauling it over his shoulder and storming out of the room, ears burning in both frustration and anger.

“You don’t joke about this type of shit,” Jungkook mutters under his breath right as he leaves the rest of the members brewing with confused expressions as they look at one another with concerned expressions.

Namjoon, as expected, is a museum enthusiast. That much you could assess when he was excitedly chirping about how much he appreciated all types of art, abstract, modern and contemporary and vintage—you name it and he could likely give you a break down of the nuances behind styles and techniques.

He is also great company. Namjoon is a comfortable line between involved and chivalrous, never pushing farther than what you were able to offer but engaging you in insightful discussions that you found yourself being intrigued by.

While you expected more … forward gestures, Namjoon is respectful and you’re surprised but not really. He was mannered encompassed into human form.

So, when the security guard informs you that the exhibition was over and that the two were the last guests in the hall—the two of you reluctantly had to bring your night to an end.

“That was fun,” Namjoon says once the two of you exit the hall, just two figures in the night who have thousands of words to say about the masterpieces you’ve witnessed.

“Honestly, I was already looking forward to it but seeing the pieces the art students curated in person was just another type of euphoria.” You confess.

Namjoon nods in agreement. “I totally agree. You can just tell that they’ve really dedicated all their free time to the work they’ve displayed.”

“Art is beautiful, isn’t it?” You mumble, eyes looking back to the museum as you grin up at Namjoon who’s already looking at you.

“Yeah.” He breathes, and the way he’s looking at you under the dim moonlight makes you irrevocably flustered. “Beautiful.”

You clear your throat as you shift on your heels, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t too apparent. The night was still wondrous, and you feel a type of comfort in Namjoon that you haven’t felt in a very long time. But there’s still a lingering thought in the substandard part of your mind that reminds you of doe-eyes and a bunny smile.

“Thank you for your time, Namjoon.” You say shy, fiddling with your thumbs.

When you find the courage to look at his face, he’s already beaming at you.

“No. Thank you.” He reassures. “I know you’re super busy so for you to find time out of your schedule to hang with a virtual stranger really means a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen, but then your face neutralises as you flush.

“I’m not that busy …” You mumble.

Namjoon chuckles. He doesn’t even snort or offer a sarcastic remark in response. He just acknowledges it with a kind smile and doesn’t comment further.

He’s different from what you’re used to. A challenge. A burst of rebellion that loved to roll remarks off his tongue.

You don’t want to think of him just yet.

“Regardless. You’re here. And I’m grateful.”

You nod your head lamely, clutching your bag into your chest (after relentlessly whining to Namjoon to allow you to hold it yourself when you felt a little useless).

“I should—I should head back.” You cock your thumb towards the direction of your apartment.

Immediately, Namjoon steps forward and is ready to head the same way you are.

“Let me walk you back.”

“I can’t possibly—”

“I’m not asking this time, ______.” He frowns.

You snap your lips shut. Though you did feel a little bad, it was late and the rational part of you knew that it was best if Namjoon walked you home.

“Okay.” You say softly.

Before you can begin walking, he tugs you by the elbow so gently, but firm enough for you to nearly stumble into his chest.

And he’s so tall, so you’re peering up at him with wide eyes as you gauge his nervous expression.

“I-I’m sorry if this is a little forward but—” Namjoon clears his throat. “W-Well I think—I really think you’re nice. And great. Like—good company, you know? So I’d r-really—I’d enjoy—”

You blink at him as he attempts to find his words.

“Namjoon.” You whisper gently, tugging the hem of his shirt.

At your gesture, his mind blanks but he remembers that you’re still looking up at him with a confused gaze.

“Okay. Fuck.” He whines as a giggle escapes your throat when he peers at you with an exasperated expression. “I’m not usually this much of a mess. You just make me nervous.”

“O-Oh.” You breathe, “I do?”

Namjoon sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t know if it was obvious but I’m kind of into you.” He says softly, rubbing his hand over his neck.

You don’t expect it, not at all. So you can only muster gawking at him at his sudden confession.

“And you don’t need to—you don’t need to say anything about it. We can pretend like I didn’t just confess to you. We can just be friends.” He rambles, eyes wide. “I just wanted to let you know … yeah. So I really hope we can still continue to hang out even though you might think I’m a creep and I really didn’t offer to walk you home because I had intentions. Really just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You continue looking at Namjoon with wide eyes. Because you’ve never been on this end before. The one receiving the confession. You’ve never really given a confession either, and you try to suppress the bitter memories of the confession you tried to give Jungkook that wasn’t verbal but with your presence.

With you giving up certain parts of yourself for him so he could see you.

“Please say something.” Namjoon chuckles nervously.

“I—…” You choke. “I don’t know what to say.”

“We can pretend like I didn’t just say that.” He winces.

You shake your head. “No. No. It’s fine, Namjoon. Really.” You reassure him gently. “I really appreciate it … I just didn’t … expect it.” You finish lamely.

“You’re a very interesting person,” Namjoon tells you, lips twitching in an attempt to lighten the awkward atmosphere.

Interesting? You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone call you interesting before. Not outright, at least.

“I’m really not.” You say sadly.

Namjoon furrows his brows but doesn’t reach out to you further, his hands still remaining limp by his sides.

“Hey.” His voice calls out. “You are. You’re definitely one of the most interesting people I’ve met in my life.”

You blink.

“T-Thank you.”

He waves you off, gesturing towards where you gestured towards earlier.

“Shall we?”

And somehow, Namjoon has a way of making everything feel easy. Like a temporary space for you to feel safe, to feel wanted.

So why doesn’t your heart flutter?

[lilac-5ky]

I just read your latest Takasugi headcanon/drabble/idk what to call it and now I am curious

What IS in his shopping list👁️👄👁️

Like it got to my head and now I NEED TO KNOW

Lmao anyways u can share your headcanons on it if you actually have any specific thoughts. I'd just like to know lol

Somehow, I knew I had it coming 😂But, as always, I'm going to be serious about it and I'll give it some proper thinking!

Let me start by saying that Takasugi doesn't just go shopping whenever he pleases. For starters, he is a terrorist and a wanted man, he can't just walk in Edo Mart and be like yo, what aisle for brussels sprouts? And even if he wasn't can you imagine Takasugi just strolling through the supermarket, comparing prices and reading the additives of each product? 😂 Not gonna lie, I pity the employees, he'd just give them THE STARE. What do you mean you have no yakult? 👀 Don't get me wrong, he'd be a very respectful customer, wouldn't cause any trouble. Unless he ran into Gintoki, then he might as well bury his face in the first shelf he finds. But anyways, anyways, let's not get off topic here!

Takasugi would rarely shop by himself and most of the time, Matako or someone else would personally handle his shopping list. But on the rare occasion he goes shopping, then this is what I would imagine his list to be!

Warning: SOME OF IT MAKES ZERO SENSE OKAY but I'm getting a vibe for it, I promise

his look when they are out of his beloved beverage :)))))))

Sugi's Shopping List

Yakult

it's his priority, he loves it, come on!

Yoghurt

considering how he likes yakult so much, I can see him getting behind yoghurt honestly. Even having a bit of a childish eating habit and picking those flavored small yoghurts that are meant for kids. I don't think he'd openly admit to it that's why it's something he'd purchase when going shopping on his own.

String Cheese

another childish habit I can see him having. string cheese is something he can eat on the run and basically, many of the foods I'm going to include are ones you can eat on the go. basically snacks that don't need to be prepared and can be consumed as they are.

Tofu

even if he might indulge himself in certain western delicacies, at his core, Takasugi is a traditional man. rather than actual cheese, he'd opt for tofu.

Eggs

eggs are just... eggs, you know? so many dishes include them, so yeah.

Tea leaves

but you know, not the cheap Lipton ones. he has high standards after all! rather than coffee, I see him more as a tea kinda guy buuuut

Coffee Beans

he would like to have some coffee around and I feel like he'd be good at brewing it himself, just like his tea. i can see him and bansai sitting together while drinking either, honestly.

Water

he is a human, humans drink water, what can I say? plus, i doubt he can find high quality water lying in space.

Fruits and Vegetables

now this is the harder for me to think, because i can't really tell what kind of fruits or veggies he'd prefer. i feel like he is into healthy food, considering how yakult is basically probiotics and if he could afford to have a proper meal, he'd go for it. i can see him being into berries (NOT STRAWBERRIES BECAUSE GIN which actually arent berries at all but eh), grapes, lychees, persimmons, dates, plums or perhaps the occasional apple too. i'm afraid i can't offer an exact explanation as to why i chose these specific ones but eh, it be like this sometimes. about veggies now, lotus roots, edamame, yams, cabbage, daikon, seaweed (not really a veggie but dk what to consider it here ;-;), mushrooms and beets. i wanna say eggplants too because they are purple and well... heh.

i guess something these things have in common are that they can be either eaten individually, or are widely used in japanese cuisine.

Nuts

YEAH YEAH, I CAN HEAR THE SNICKERS FROM HERE ABOUT THIS ONE. still, nuts are a great source of NUTrients. also for some reason, i can see Takasugi liking something that requires a bit of work? now this will sound weird af but i can totally imagine him spitting the shells (or seeds since i mentioned fruits) at gintoki or people who annoy him (throwback sakamoto spit translate scene). i dont know, maybe it's because he smokes, maybe it's because he uses his fingers a lot WHEN PLAYING THE SHAMISEN, DON'T GET ME WRONG, i can see him liking foods that need some work. that's what i meant. yeah? yeah.

Sweets?

i don't see him as a sweet kinda guy, not gonna lie. but, perhaps he would indulge in an occasional chocolate candy bar. perhaps a darker chocolate? if he got a craving, i'd still think he'd opt for more traditional stuff so, perhaps dorayaki or mochi would catch his eye, if the store had some premade ones.

Miso paste

absolute MUST for breakfast.

Rice

Gum?

this one is debatable. he is a smoker, he has shitty breath, gum is easy to pop in for some freshness i guess. if he needed to have a clean breath, this is the lazy way to do it.

Soy sauce

the answer to the eternal debate of ketchup vs mayo would be soy sauce for him. this is the way of the ancestors, somehow.

Noodles

another no brainer. if you ask me, he is more of a soba kinda guy though.

Meat/Fish

usually he doesn't buy such things himself. he isn't the one to cook his own meals so... plus, meat and fish take a long of time to prepare. i think of him more as a fish kinda guy, not sure why though. if he can get his hands on some fresh fish, he'll go for it.

OH AND, not exactly fish but, Mentaiko!

Onigiri

Takasugi is a bit of a sentimental fool, no denying here. onigiri is a food linked to his childhood and to Katsura. he would eat such things behind everyone's back and if anyone noticed and asked him if he wanted some, he'd deny it, claiming that he hated the taste of him. still, i feel like it's a food he'd buy without second thought, if he happened to find it in the store.

Jelly Beans

another troll-y food choice. they are tasty and can be eaten on the go. i can see him being very picky about the order he eats them in, going as far as to not eat a certain type of flavor at all!

Alcohol

man needs to drown his pain somehow. Sake, Umeshu, Nigori, Shochu, i can see him drinking each of them. usually with Bansai, he is his certified drinking buddy. sometimes Matako and Takechi join too but they get wasted! Matako gets all flustered, attaching herself to him "Shinsuke sam~AaaaaaAAAa", she is just a mess. Takechi's lolicon comments intensify and he might honestly try to annoy Matako who just gets defensive and cries harder while wiping her nose on Takasugi's sleeve... yeah....no, it's better if he just drinks with Bansai on second thought.

Hygiene Products

i feel like Takasugi is very hygienic when he can afford to be. he is someone who obviously puts thought in his appearance and so i can see shampoo and shower gels being up high in his list. funnily enough, i can see him as someone who could potentially get behind bath bombs! they are relaxing, have a certain aesthetic and hey, BUBBLES! but mainly, i feel like he is a soap bar kinda type. he prefers clean scents without bells and whistles. perhaps something that has a bit of a flowery scent? basically relaxing stuff. definitely an ylang ylang or sandalwood kinda guy (damn i'm reading too much into it). also toothbrush, toothpaste, the usual stuff. floss too. gotta wash the tobacco away.

oh and of course, he is clueless about detergents. he doesn't handle that at all, Matako takes care of his laundry somehow. he frowned upon her about it in the start, but she's managed to find a smell he likes so they are good.

Tobacco

wasn't sure if i should add that because not all regular stores have that but yeah, he needs it for his kiseru!

MAN, I spent so much time thinking about this. Not in a million years would I ever think that I'd be writing Takasugi Shinsuke's personal shopping list. But there is always a first, I guess! These are just my opinions/headcanons/guts, call them whatever you want, really. Some of these have a base I guess while others are just hunches.

Hope this wasn't too out of character, hey, I DID MY BEST! I loved this ask though, it was so particular and different from what I usually do or think about.

[taetaespeaches]

“I didn’t think you’d care if I came back.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 3.2K

a/n: Finally we have some fluff again! I mean, the angst is still here, but we’re getting to a resolution. This drabble is inspired by “this is me trying” off of Taylor Swift’s album, folklore, and it takes place after, “You know that I would ruin myself over and over again for you.” This also includes a hint of crack for some comic relief, and because where Jin and Poopsie go, crack follows. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)) 

STEPPING into your apartment, returning home from work, your eyes scanned the small space with distaste. You dreaded coming home to your empty sofa and your empty kitchen and your very empty bed. Even more so, you hated the disappointment you felt in yourself for letting another person get so close to you that they started to feel like home.

Dropping your bag at the front door, you kicked your shoes off carelessly before making your way straight to the bathroom to take a shower. Your showers had been doubling in length, perhaps in hopes that the heat of the water would scald the past couple months right off your skin. Or maybe it was just to feel something other than the hurt.

It was just two months of your life. Why was it having such an impact? It had only been three days since Yoongi walked out, so you hoped it was just the newness of it all that had you feeling so hollow.

Yoongi was just stopping by the dorm for a change of clothes and then he was heading back to the studio. He had spent three days straight in his studio, not even returning to the dorms after leaving your place. Whereas his fans would probably think he was working hard on the second Agust D mixtape, he was mostly just sulking.

He did what was best right? You said you were ruining yourself over him. He was ruining you. So, he left. He didn’t try to work it out, he left. For you. That way, you would have a chance at happiness with someone else. Someone more suitable for you. Someone who could give you what you deserve.

Walking toward his bedroom with his overnight bag in tow, the sound of his roommate’s squeaky laughter echoed through the hallway. Yoongi was suddenly very thankful for the isolation his studio provided, as he remembered Jin saying his girlfriend was visiting family for a few days so he wouldn’t get to see her right away upon returning to Korea from Japan. She must be back now.

“I don’t care if the whole game and franchise is named after Mario, Yoshi is hands down the best character in the Mario realm, and that’s just a fact,” her ranting sounded through the closed door, Jin interrupting her with overdramatic sound effects. Yoongi’s hand was on the doorknob and he had half a mind to ignore his need for a change of clothes and escape back to his studio before anyone noticed he was there.

“There wouldn’t even be a Yoshi if it weren’t for Mario because there would be no Mario franchise,” Jin shouted back, Yoongi’s motions still stalled as he stood on the other side of the door in disbelief. Fucking Mario? Really?

With a sigh, Yoongi opened the door, clearing his throat to alert the two idiots of his presence. Jin’s head popped up off the pillows, greeting Yoongi with an, “oh, hey,” his girlfriend sitting up from her spot next to Jin on the bed.

“Oh, Yoongi, thank god you’re here,” she exclaimed, Yoongi flashing her a surprised expression. “Tell Jin that Yoshi is the best Mario character.”

“That’s ridiculous and you know it,” Jin shouted with wide eyes, his girlfriend turning to look at him. “Yoshi can be your favorite character, but you can’t argue he’s the best.”

“Why can’t I?” She complained, Yoongi quickly losing all interest as he escaped to his side of the room, separated from the bickering couple by a large bookcase.

“Because it’s not called Super Yoshi, or Yoshi Kart,” Jin informed her. Yoongi hurried around his belongings, shoving some clothes into his bag so he could get back to this studio without being dragged back into the couple’s pointless disagreement.

“You’re so annoying,” she huffed, Jin laughing at her attitude.

Zipping the bag back up, Yoongi started toward the door, anxious to get out of the dorm, away from everyone.

“Aw, but I got you something in Japan,” Jin told his girlfriend. Her silence piqued Yoongi’s interest, for reasons unknown to Yoongi, enough for him to look back. She was looking at Jin with her eyebrows raised as Jin pulled out a Yoshi figure from his pocket. “It’s Yoshi!” Yoongi watched as the girl held back a smile, trying to keep up her challenging glare. “I may disagree with you, but I support you and your poor judgement,” Jin teased the girl, lowering himself onto his knees on the bed.

“I'm in love with you, so you may be on to something with the poor judgement thing,” the girl teased right back, taking the figure before cooing at it. “It’s so cute, thank you,” she told him, Yoongi quickly exiting the room.

Part of him found the two lovers cute. A much bigger part found them annoying and gross. Shoving their love in everyone’s faces. He felt like a bitter old man as he shuffled out of the dorm angrily. Why was it that Jin could manage a relationship? How was it that Jin could have his shit together, but Yoongi couldn't? And Hoseok for that matter. Hell, even Namjoon was seeing someone. Why couldn't Yoongi do the same? Making his way out of the building, you overtook his mind. You would have called him out on being a bitter old man. “Jesus, Grampa Min, stop being so grumpy,” he could hear you saying with a giggle. You’d probably even press a kiss to his forehead, flashing him a warm smile. All anger and bitterness dissipated from his body, leaving him sad and frustrated with himself, even more so than before.

Another addition to the list of things you were growing to hate about your living space: it was cold. Bundled up in a large sweatshirt, baggy sweatpants, and colorful fluffy socks on your feet, you waited in the kitchen for your water to boil. All you wanted to do was have a cup of tea and plant yourself in front of the TV to waste away while watching the next Netflix series in your queue. Your still wet hair only made you colder, a shiver moving through your body, causing you to let out a groan.

You resisted the urge to check your phone. He surely hadn’t texted, and you didn’t feel like dealing with the pain that struck your heart every time you saw no notifications from him.

As you mindlessly played with the ends of your damped hair, a knock suddenly sounded on your door, and your heart dropped into your stomach. It had to be him. No one ever visited you at 6:30 pm on a Thursday night. You thought about not answering it, but when the knock sounded again, you convinced yourself you could be wrong. It could be someone else.

Then you caught yourself hoping it wasn't someone else.

Hesitantly, you opened the door, and if you weren’t so angry you would have cried at the sight in front of you.

Yoongi stood in your doorway, dark circles just as prominent as three days ago, eyes puffy and slightly red, one of his hands shoved into his pants pocket, the other hanging by his thigh as he held onto a bouquet of tulips.

Your eyes lingered on the flowers for a moment, not because you really cared about the gesture, but because the appearance of the man who had always been so composed before now looking so completely broken on your doorstep was almost too devastating for your heart to bear.

His eyes scanned your features desperately, though neither of you spoke. It was hard to find the words.

It felt like minutes passed by before Yoongi finally opened his mouth to say something, though he struggled to get the words out. “Kid, I-” he started, tears forming in his eyes.

“I don’t want your flowers if they come with disillusions,” you told him bitterly, holding onto your anger, despite the bubbling feeling of wanting to wrap him up in your arms.

Your eyes followed a tear as it slid off his plush cheek, the cheeks you adored so much, landing on the side of his hand. “If you want me to lay out all my mistakes right now, I will,” he told you sincerely, the comment taking you by surprise. “For starters, I shouldn’t have left. I should have fought with you, I should have stayed to finish that fight,” he said in frustration, partly to himself.

Maybe the words should have confused you, but you understood exactly what he was saying. For you both to express your frustrations with each other and with yourselves, the fight needed to happen. With Yoongi leaving, you didn’t get to the point of discussion following the anger. Instead, he walked away, as if you weren’t worth fighting with, or for.

“Why did it take you three days to come back?” You asked, a strange mixture of anger and sadness and hope swirling around your stomach.

“I didn’t think you’d care if I came back,” he admitted sadly, wiping his face with the back of his hand to get rid of the tears, the bouquet messing his fringe as it made contact with his forehead. He avoided eye contact, keeping his stare directed to your fuzzy sock-covered feet.

“Of course, I care,” you told him, taking a step back to allow him space to enter your apartment. His eyes followed the colorful fluffy material as you moved aside. “Now get in here so we can fight.”

You barely noticed the quirk in Yoongi's lip as it curved just slightly into the tiniest of smiles. He entered your apartment tentatively, and his presence already made it feel more like home again. You felt certain in that moment that no matter what room he walked into, it would feel like home.

Turning toward you, still avoiding your eyes but raising his gaze to your waist, he weakly held up the bouquet. "These are tulips," he told you dumbly, finishing the statement off with a sniffle.

You stared at him for a moment but he didn't continue. "I know," you finally said.

Another beat went by as you faced each other, a feeling of awkwardness enveloping the room. “They symbolize-" he started, just as the teapot started screaming in the kitchen.

“Hang on,” you told him, rushing to the kitchen to remove the pot from the stove, turning the burner off. For a moment, you thought about sitting in the kitchen for a moment to gather your thoughts, but with a vulnerable Min Yoongi standing just a few feet away, you found yourself hurrying back to him.  

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You asked, Yoongi looking to the side of the room.

“Tulips symbolize-”

"Yoongi,” you breathed out. “I don't care about the flowers right now, what are you doing here?" You cut him off, getting straight to the point.

"I want to fix this," he told you sincerely, lifting his gaze to meet yours.

You shrugged. "And how?" He stared at you for a moment, so you decided to continue. "I'm sick of feeling like I'm not wanted."

Yoongi quickly negated the comment, shaking his head. "I always want you."

"Then why do I feel unwanted by you?" Your volume raised as you asked the question, Yoongi appearing to hold his breath for a moment. Letting it out in a shaky breath, he looked back to your feet. "You say you want me but your actions say different, Yoongi. And you can't tell me how I feel, I feel unwanted."

"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, lifting his gaze to meet your eyes. "I'm not trying to tell you how you feel, I'm just coming to terms with the fact that I made you feel that way," his voice broke.

"I don't want to hold this over your head, and I don't want you beating yourself up for it," you told him. "I just want you. But if I can't have you and feel good about myself and us, then I need to you to leave and I need you to stay gone." Speaking the words added cracks to your heart, but it also lifted a weight off your shoulders.

"I deal with a lot of shit," he suddenly said, your eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "Mentally. And that mixed with my work- I'm afraid of putting you through hell just because I'm selfish and want you," he told you with tears in his eyes. That’s what he’s afraid of? Putting his burdens on you? "I get so stuck in my head and I was in Japan and all I could think of was you and,” he sighed, looking into your eyes. “Fuck, Kid, I wanted to call you every moment I was gone. But that's for me, what am I giving you?" He shrugged hopelessly.

"You," you told him, your tears threatening to fall. "You're giving me you."

"And what's that worth?" His question shattered your heart. What's that worth?

"Baby, that's worth everything to me," you told him. "When you’re actually giving yourself to me, I feel more like myself. I feel braver and happier and-" looking back at the bouquet in his hands, you asked, "why tulips?"

He stalled for a moment, surprised by the question. "Right now?" Nodding at him, you bit back a grin. A faint smile appeared on his face, scoffing at himself. "Tulips can mean rebirth and forgiveness and true love, and I'm not saying we're in love,” he quickly backtracked. “I mean not yet, but we could be some day, and," he spoke slow but he was lost in his words, panicking over bringing up love, and the sight of him trying to find his way was enough to make you crack a smile. His speech faded out as he watched your face brighten just the slightest bit, a blush overtaking his plush cheeks. "I don't know what the fuck flowers mean, I don't know what I'm doing."

"That much is obvious," you teased, Yoongi letting out a single breathy chuckle at the comment.

"All I know how to do is care about you, Kid," he shrugged.

Tears forming in your eyes at his confession, you shook your head. "Then care about me."

"I'm trying," he told you, staring into your eyes. For a man who usually avoided eye contact, you were surprised by the sincerity he was trying to convey as he held your gaze. "I really am trying."

"I know," you nodded. And he was.  

"I wanted to protect you from me," he added, his orbs scanning your face. "But fuck, Kid, I can't stay away from you." You watched him thoughtfully as he spoke. "But when I saw the hurt in your face-" he paused to compose his emotions. "When you said you thought I left that morning," he shook his head. "That's when I first realized what I was doing to you."

"But you don't have to do that to me," you reminded him. "You don't have to protect me from you, I've told you I'm prepared to be with you regardless of your lifestyle and your work." Yoongi stared at you as you spoke, and you cocked your head at him. "I'm ok with the time apart and the late-night dates and the days where we can only fit a few texts in.”

“But are you ok with me? And everything that comes with me?” He asked. He was really asking, he needed the assurance.

“Of course, I am,” you told him definitively. “I want all of you. You don’t need to wear this mask around me, you don’t need to shield me from you. And you’re not the only one with demons,” you told him. “I want you and everything that comes with you. I’m just not ok with feeling like I'm always about to lose you."

"Baby," he whispered.

"I can't keep being afraid that every time you walk out the door, you might not come back," you whimpered, a tear falling down your cheek. "I need assurance too, I need to know you're in this with me as much as I am with you." Yoongi nodded quickly.

"If you want me here, I'm here," he assured you, sincerity coating his words.

"I want you here," you told him. Yoongi suddenly tossed the bouquet onto the table before approaching you. His arms wrapped around your body before you could react, your arms slowly folding over him, holding him close to you as he buried his face in your hair. You felt a kiss on the top of your head, your body responding by relaxing against his frame, turning your face to nuzzle it against his neck. "I'm sorry for the shit I said," you mumbled against his cool skin, still slightly cold from the night air.

"Don't apologize," he whispered into your hair.

"I didn't mean the mean shit," you added, Yoongi chuckling at the obvious pout on your lips.

"You were hardly mean, Kid," he told you, pulling away just a bit to look down at you with a soft smile, his eyes glistening in emotion.

“Well, I’ll never mean the mean shit,” you said with a small smile.

"I missed you,” he told you as he wiped the fallen tears off your cheeks.

"I missed you too," you whispered. “We were supposed to fight, you know,” you added teasingly.

“That wasn’t a fight?” He questioned in feigned surprise. “We still can if you want,” he playfully responded, his eyes widened humorously.

“You came in here trying to explain flower symbolization and I just couldn’t get mad at you,” you giggled, Yoongi smiling adorably just before pushing his lips to yours, giving you a sweet kiss. Before you could deepen it, he pulled away again.

"Yoshi or Mario?"

"What?” You questioned in utter confusion. “Min, I'm trying to make out with you," you complained with a look of dissatisfaction, Yoongi smiling fondly at the expression. With a sigh, you said, "Yoshi, obviously, what do you think I am, an idiot?" Yoongi laughed fully at the comment, his shoulders shaking as he flashed you that adorable gummy smile you were so obsessed with. "Why?" you asked through a small laugh, "what about you?"

"Honestly, I could not care less," he smiled, now your turn to laugh.

"I love that about you," you told him through your big grin.

"My roommate, Jin, thinks Mario is better," he told you, you raising your eyebrows in response. "I think you should come by the dorm to put him in his place. Maybe meet all the other guys too?"

You smiled widely as you nodded. "I'd love to," you said softly, Yoongi nodding before leaning in to kiss you again. "I mean, for Yoshi's honor," you whispered right before his lips pressed to yours.

"Of course," he giggled against your mouth. Pulling back just slightly, Yoongi stared at you for a moment, his eyes appreciating your every feature slowly, taking his time, as you did the same with him. Wrapping his arms around the back of your neck, he tugged you closer to him to hold you against his body once again. "Jin's a moron but remind me to thank him one of these days," he whispered against your temple.

"I will," you giggled. "But for what?"

"For having his shit together."