#DID THEY STALK MY SPOTIFY WRAPPED OR SOMETHING

[charbroiledchicken]

everyone say thank you arcane music directors

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’  simple acts of love from skz

—All the times stray kids said I love you in the little things.

words・6.8k pairings・stray kids x reader genres・fluff, a little crack, established relationships warnings・lots and lots of kisses!! happy tears, drunken re-confessions, silliness, playful living room dancing, minhos a shy baby, he's also a little shit in changbins, erotic painting in hyunjins, hans is a little bit more emotional, silly little proposals, my terrible attempt at writing lyrics, jeongin stalks your goodreads profile and buys your entire TBR list like I don't have at least a thousand tbr books...some of these are silly some of these are sickeningly sweet,

a/n・I wrote these drabbles based on these headcanons, but I did change Minho's because I believed it fit him better!! Also, this has been rotting in my drafts for MONTHS im not super proud of them, but I hope you like them anyways.

ᡣ𐭩 chan + sneaking into your bathroom to trace hearts onto the bathroom mirror.

"This is a suicide mission!" his lungs scream as he slips into your inferno of a bathroom, a heavy cloak of steam hugging him instantly. His respiratory system begs for release, a moist cough rolling up his throat; but like the magnificent boyfriend he is, he shoves those rebellious bodily functions right back down his windpipe.

Was his silly little plan worth the ability to breathe? Yes. Did he also wonder how you even could? Also yes.

The mirror fogs like the surface of an ancient lake, obstructing the image of his mischievous grin. He brings a pointer finger to the glass, drawing all his ardor in the mist—though it only comes out as lopsided hearts.

Your voice floats out from behind the curtain, absentmindedly humming to a silent tune. Shadows of your hands move through your hair, your body refracted onto the thin sheet.

You are so beautiful...

Cupid smacks his jaw shut.

He manages to slip out right as the water sputters off, sliding into the living room by his socks. He face-plants onto the couch, scrambling to sit upright. The loud smack of your towel echoes in his ears as his wide eyes dart to the table, frantically searching for something to occupy his attention. He snatches the first thing he sees, which just happens to be a... candle?

Whatever, no time!

Chan is intently studying the ocean-blue Bath & Body Works label, when you come pattering out, damp hair dribbling water behind you. The moment you step into his line of sight, his heart plummets—that stupid aromatherapy candle nearly tumbling with it.

There you were, in all your drenched glory, your towel wrapped snug against your chest, tears rolling freely down your cheeks. Did you hear that?! Tears!! You were crying?! Why were you crying?!?!

Chan must have embodied the spirit of a kangaroo, because he’s never jumped up faster in his life.

"Why are you crying? You're supposed to be happy!" he yelps, yanking your body into his arms, water seeping into the thin fabric of his tee shirt. His brain becomes the equivalent of the world’s most fucked-up ambrosia when you begin laughing, the curve of your smile pressed into his chest. He blinks—he doesn't know whether to kiss you or call a priest. Maybe he should do both?

Suddenly you pull away, cocooning his cheeks with pruney hands, your bottom lip wobbling as you sob, "I'm so in love with you."

Well, good job—now he's sobbing too.

"I'm in love with you too, baby."

You had drawn hearts on the walls of his soul in the same way he had drawn them in the steam of your mirror. The only difference is, yours would never fade away.

ᡣ𐭩 minho + randomly sending you songs that remind him of you.

Minho wasn't the type to throw his arms around you, pressing kisses to your face with all his overflowing ardor. Instead, in the minuscule overlaps of time between talking on the phone and constructing a perfect dance routine, he'll find himself sitting dazed upon the lounge room couch, mindlessly nodding to a catchy tune. He had left his Spotify on smart shuffle, finding comfort in the idea of a song found without searching, as if it were fate's gentle finger dusting the path to new adventures. He flutters his eyelids shut, ripples of sound washing over his skin.

And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime

And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine

'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on everyone that you'd be mine, mine

In a rash flood of emotions, he sends you the song just before Chan steps into view, announcing his dire need to finish choreographing the final steps of their newest single. Begrudgingly, he slips his phone into his back pocket, his earbuds following suit. The only thing that keeps him sane throughout the day is the anticipation that he will go home and see you, and that makes it all worth it.

ᡣ𐭩

May I have this dance?" you declare, extending your arm with feigned seriousness, though the playful smile tugging at your lips betrays you instantly.

“What?” Minho chuckles through furrowed brows, observing the unusual surroundings; candles flicker dim lighting on the walls, throwing shadows on the rose petals you had scattered around your living room, forming an intriguing resemblance to a romantic dance floor. He sets the bags of groceries on the ground. Lee Know is so beyond confused, yet also pleasantly surprised, especially when you waltz over to him, tight red dress hugging all your gorgeous curves.

“You still haven't answered my question,” you sing, playfully twirling into his arms. Your hands find their way to the nape of his neck, tracing mindless circles in his hair. A shiver rolls up his spine as you tilt your face forward, lips so close; his heart flutters like a fragile leaf tumbling down from an autumn tree. He blinks before exhaling—

“Of course, I'll dance with you.”

A delighted squeal erupts from your lips, and you jump away from his arms, heading straight over to your phone to play the song he sent you prior. A warm blush floods his cheeks, painting them a bashful red.

“Did you like it?” His eyes fall away from yours.

“Did I like it?? Of course I liked it!” you squeal, gaping at him like he was the dumbest person on the planet. World War Three rages inside his chest as he fights not to fold like a lawn chair, flopping on the floor like a flustered starfish. Though when your hands rub their way up from his chest to his shoulders, he's surprised he's even upright. Your hips sway to the melody, a warm smile melting away all his defenses; but when you guide his awkward hands to the dip in your hips, it’s game over. He stuffs his face into your neck, littering the sensitive skin with kisses, his brain screaming: distract the enemy!! distract the enemy!!

“Do you know how much I love you?” he mumbles with striking genuineness. Instead of answering his question, you simply twirl yourself around his finger, placing his hand to wrap around the small of your back. He dips you down right as the music swells. It was magical, really—the candlelight twinkling in your peripheral, spills of starlight dancing off the ocean's surface. It was all so perfect—that was until your shoe caught on one of the rose petals, the floor turning slick under your feet. You send yourself tumbling straight to the ground. Minho squeals, grasping at thin air, but then he too also slips, frantically shooting his wrists out so he doesn't crush you.

The music cuts through the deafening silence as petals weave their way into your hair. You roll your lips into your teeth, glancing over to an eerily still Minho, staring at the ceiling like a spooked tabby. As if he could feel your eyes, his gaze finds yours, and only then does he burst out into roaring laughter, which prompts you to also join the fun.

“Are you sure you're the main dancer?” you tease through breathy giggles. He gasps, smacking a dramatic hand over his chest.

“I’ll have you know you fell first.”

And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime

And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine

'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on everyone that you'd be mine, mine

In that moment, as the light hits you just right, he swears he finds the universe in your eyes. Your skin is showered in candlelight, head tilted back—joy flickers on your tongue as honey drips from your teeth. His heart pounds against his ribs, flowers sprouting in his lungs. To the world, he was an aloof grump with smooth moves and an impressive affinity for cats; but to you, with you, he was so much more.

Mid-snort, he captures your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. In a single gesture, he is pouring all the words he wished to say—

though to you, it tasted a little bit like—

If he had to blow a wish on every dandelion in the universe just to keep you, he would; and only through your lips would he find the power to keep breathing.

ᡣ𐭩 changbin + gushing about you while drunk

The balmy patio is sticky with soju-infused groans, most of the boys slumped in their respective seats, throwing back exasperated swigs of their drinks as they desperately try to drown out Changbin’s relentless rambles.

The two semicircle outdoor couches form a full circle around an unlit bonfire pit. On one of the couches sits a completely unfazed Felix, taking small sips of his soju between chuckles; an extremely annoyed Seungmin, glaring daggers at Changbin; and I.N, who doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything except, well, sleeping—body slumped against the armrest. Hyunjin is sandwiched between Chan and Changbin on the other couch: Chan, who wishes he never even brought up the idea to buy beer in the first place, and Changbin, who is currently slumped over a very irked Hyunjin’s lap. Han is somewhere in the house, probably giggling at his own swirling reflection.

Hyunjin digs his fingers into the roots of his locks, fighting every urge not to yank the tufts straight out.

“N-no, but Jinnie, you don’t u-understand—she’s so pretty,” Changbin slurs, stuffing his face into his friend’s hoodie, which makes Hyunjin frown and swat him away.

“That’s it! I’m calling Y/N!” Seungmin announces, jumping up from his seat. Chan grabs his sleeve, yanking him straight back down, much to Seungmin’s dismay. he sinks into the polyester in a puddle of disgruntled grumbles.

"Or we could record him," Minho calls out from the shadows of the back entryway, only ever appearing when he needed more beer or more entertainment. And right now, it was dinner and a show. Minho simply shrugs as if his evil plan wouldn’t ruin his best friend's bad-boy reputation. "Send it to Y/N later," he mumbles to himself, the devil tilting his cheek up. Nobody seems to hear him, so he slyly pulls his phone from his pocket and presses record.

"No, no, no! You can't call Y/N. She’ll know I love her!" Changbin gasps in horror, stumbling to grab the phantom phone that apparently appears on Hyunjin’s lap with the way he paws at his jeans. Hyunjin takes a nice, long swig of his soju.

"You know you and Y/N have been together for over four years, right?" Felix chuckles, finding the whole ordeal pure comedic relief.

"No, you don’t understand. She’ll know I love her... lover," Changbin’s words slur into an incoherent shake of his head. Minho's evil cackles float out from the concealment of the doorway, and Chan perks up.

"Minho, what are you doing?!" Minho slams his phone against his thigh. What the hell?? Does Chan have Spidey senses or something??

"Nothing!" he yelps, sounding super convincing. Chan narrows his eyes toward the darkness where Minho is supposedly lurking, sporting an eerily perfect rendition of a frustrated father. That is, until Changbin begins a very off-tune version of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider,” rolling over on Hyunjin’s lap to tap his fingers up his arm and eventually landing on Hyunjin’s nose with a giggle. When Hyunjin almost bites his finger off, Chan finally diverts his attention. Minho thanks God for the shadows—how else would he have gotten away with recording all of that?

“I’m about two seconds away from bringing you back to Y/N,” Hyunjin sighs, his lips pressed into a tight line as he glares at the man whose eyes just burst with light at the thought of seeing you. Chan smacks Hyunjin on the back sympathetically, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Why me, Lord? Why me?" Chan sings his woes under his breath but just loud enough for the camera to pick up—and for Minho to giggle.

"Y/N, I miss Y/N. Can I go home to Y/N, please?" Changbin hiccups, slumping his head onto Hyunjin’s shoulder. Hyunjin’s eye twitches. "I wanna tell the pretty girl I love her."

Felix emerges from his silence with a fit of laughter, nearly spilling his beer all over the floor. "Weren't you just saying you didn’t want to tell her you loved her?"

Changbin whips his gaze forward, his eyes hardening into a very foggy glare. "Well, now I want to tell the pretty girl I love her," he states matter-of-factly, his eyes fluttering a bit, betraying just how drunk he is.

Felix’s amusement is transparent as he raises his beer in Changbin’s direction. "Somebody needs to bring him to Y/N and let him re-confess his undying love for her."

Seungmin has never jumped up so fast in his life; he’s mid-volunteer when Chan grabs the cuff of his sleeve again and yanks him right back on his ass. Seungmin collapses onto the couch, ready to spit a disrespectful insult at his elder, but he folds like a lawn chair when Chan shoots him that look.

"Seungmin, you are far too drunk to take him home, while I," he looks to the sky with regret, "am very regretfully sober." Chan sounds like he’s going through the five stages of grief in one sentence.

"Okay, buddy, I’m taking you home," Chan grunts, clapping the drunken boy on the back. Changbin beams like he just heard there was a cure for cancer.

"Hell yeah!" He jumps up, only to stumble slightly, the patio swimming in his vision as he catches himself on Hyunjin’s forehead. When he finally, barely stabilizes himself, he throws his hands up. "See y’all bitches later! I—” he dramatically points to his chest in pride, “—am going to see my girl," he declares and marches straight out the door. Chan is mid-goodbye hug turned introspection with Felix, wondering what he’s doing with his life, when he hears a loud shatter in the hallway. Chan falls out of Felix’s arms immediately, his stride turned sprint. 

"Son of a bitch, Changbin, that was my favorite vase!"

ᡣ𐭩

“Go ahead, tell the pretty girl how much you love her,” you tease, playfully mimicking kissy faces while simultaneously poking Changbin’s crumpled form, his boiling cheeks sandwiched between his knees.

Why did Minho have to send you that video? But most of all, why did he have to send it while Changbin was still hungover? All this humiliation can’t be good for his headache.

Changbin groans, falling back on the bed to pull a pillow over his scorching face. The fact that the whole mattress hasn’t burst into flames is truly beyond him. Giggles pour from your lips, even as they settle atop his stomach, leaving kisses all the way up his torso. You can hear his flustered pants from down here.

“Okay, that’s enough bullying for one day,” you say, straddling his waist to snake your arms around his waist, pressing your chests flush together. Your teeth graze his shoulder, softly biting the flesh. “Come on, baby, take the pillow off your face.” You press your smile against his shirt before resting your chin on his chest.

He peeks out from under the pillow, tugging it down just enough to reveal his eyes, still reluctant to fully reveal himself. You bat your lashes at him, pouting ever so slightly. He folds—like a damn lawn chair, at this point, he’s practically collapsing in on himself with how much he’s folded. His face melts into a grin as he finally pulls the pillow down.

He so regrets that.

Your face lights up with laughter as you take in his beet-red cheeks, your eyes disappearing into crinkled slits. “I’m sorry, I just... I just can’t,” you cackle, doubling over in heaves.

“I hate you,” Changbin shouts, flustered, smacking you square in the side of the head with the pillow. It does nothing to quell your amusement; in fact, it only makes it worse.

“That’s not what you said last night,” you snort, falling off him as you kick your feet against the sheets.

Despite his urge to tie a millstone around his ankle and jump off the face of the earth, he can’t help but smile, caught in an unusual state of awe. Your mouth is boxy, laughter filling the air like strands of warm honey.

“Apparently, you think about me a lot,” you snicker, still rolling around. his smile only spreads wider.

If only you knew how much he thought of you.

ᡣ𐭩 hyunjin + painting perfectly captured portraits of you

“Hold still for me, baby,” Hyunjin whispers, his voice low and intimate, as he lightly drags his brush down the length of your arm, adding the final touches to your portrait. His gaze traces your bare body, memorizing every inch until even the freckle on the upper left side of your waist is drawn onto the inside of his eyelids. The valley of your breasts trembles with each labored breath, your muscles tightening against the couch where you lay.

“I’m really trying, Jinnie, but it hurts,” you whine, fighting to keep your head steady. Your boyfriend lets out a breathy laugh, savoring one final glance at your naked form. With careful precision, he drags the sharpest part of his brush down your thigh, finishing the entire painting with his favorite peice of you.

“Done,” Hyunjin murmurs, settling back into his chair with a satisfied smile, admiring the art he’s just created. Usually when he painted, there was always something he hated about his work—whether it's the proportions or the colors were slightly out of harmony—it was never good enough. but when he paints you, there's never an issue; for he could capture you with children's finger paints, and you'd still find a way to look utterly breathtaking.

“Let me see,” you squeal, jumping up from the uncomfortable spot you’d claimed on his couch. A faint blush appears on his face as he turns the easel around, unraveling his heart before you. And oh, when he does—you collapse into his arms, all your strength diffused into a shuddering gasp. He had dipped his brush into your soul, and with every meticulous stroke, he gathered the very essence of your heart. It was almost unreal how perfect he made you appear to be—your moles speckled across your skin in gold, dusted like stars; your stretch marks adorned in silver, shining like slips of light.

How are you not sobbing right now??

“Is it okay?” he asks, bashfully wrapping his arms around your naked waist, completely unfazed by your current state of undress.

“Hyunjin, this is more than okay,” you sniffle, voice crackling with emotion. You turn to meet his gaze, only for his palms cradle your cheeks with a touch so tender, it's barely there. One second, you’re breathing; the next, you’re transcending, existing only between his lips.

By the time you come up for air, the world around you has changed. He’s on top of you now, his hands resting on either side of your head, thoughts long forgotten. He moves closer, allowing whisps of his hair to tickle the sensitive flesh of your neck; for his lips to settle upong the delicate curve of your collarbone. He doesn’t stop—he doesn’t stop until the sun kisses your skin, until the sky is filled with the very stars he painted upon your skin.

Only in love and art are you eternal and in hyunjin, with hyunjin, you are both. 

ᡣ𐭩 han + hiding messages into every song he produces

"In every lifetime," a heartfelt promise whispered between shuttering breaths. Han's lips parted, your tongue savoring his astonished gasp. "What did you say?" quickly transformed into "Did you mean it?" when you had tenderly threaded your fingers into his hair, the pad of your thumb settling just under his jaw. Your needy hands had fogged his head, but he never forgot it.

"In every lifetime," you had uttered many moons later, nestled underneath the stretch of midnight sky. The universe had stilled, all of time and space screeching to a deafening halt. You unraveled the scrolls of his soul, and with the eternal vow of "I do," swore forever. So, he, for however long he may live, intends to hold you to that promise.

From: Hannie 🐿 Do not by any means play my new song!!!

From: Hannie 🐿 Im serious!!

From: Hannie 🐿 Promise me Y/N!!!

You giggle at his earnestness, clicking the notification to message him back.

From: My Wife ❤ I won't I promise!

From: My Wife ❤ Scouts honor 🫡

You admired Han's dedication to his craft, but what you admired most was his need to share every single part of it with you.

"You didn't listen to the song, did you?" Han calls out from the foyer, slamming the front door behind him. He urgently throws off his shoes, his heavy footsteps following him all the way up the stairs. Your mirth bubbles up behind a bitten grin, lip firmly tucked between your teeth.

"No!" you shout back, feigning indifference; though when he swings your bedroom door open, you’re overcome with breathy giggles—his hair is tossed around at all angles, puffed cheeks pink and gasping.

Now that was the man you fell in love with.

"Somebody's eager," you tease, chucking your phone somewhere on the bed. His eyes are oddly fearful when you lift yourself up from the comforter, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. His chest heaves, breath labored and shaky; flighty fingers find the knot of his tie, yanking it loose. You reel your head back. Since when does he wear a tie? You flick your gaze down his figure. Since when does he wear suits?? Your confusion only festers as he lets out an anxious chuckle, wringing his hands like wet rags.

"You have no idea." You didn’t know—didn’t know what he was about to risk. His heart was clay in your hands, and with the delicacy of a butterfly's wing, you pressed your fingerprints into his skin. For now, through touch alone, his soul will find you in every lifetime; but first, he must promise you himself in this one, and that appeared to be an impossible feat.

It's now or never, he tells himself.

So, with an arduous breath, he steadies his quivering hands just long enough to slip his phone out of his back pocket. Was it just him, or is it suddenly really hot in here? He swipes to YouTube. Why was it getting so hard to breathe?? He presses play. His heart somersaults its way down to his stomach when the opening melody echoes from the speakers. Your brows lift, lips pursing in your signature concentrated quirk. His mouth forms around a smile, breathing getting marginally easier, but that peace is short-lived as the chorus begins—only then does he feel the symptoms of real fear.

In every lifetime, his warm voice melts from the speaker.

A falling star just shot from space and hit you directly in the chest, rendering you utterly speechless; even as your gaze finds his glassy eyes, you just can’t believe it.

In every lifetime you swore.

It’s just too perfect.

So, for as long as I may live, I wanna be yours.

He’s just too perfect.

In every lifetime I'll dip my knee down.

There’s no way.

And yet he sinks to one knee, slipping a velvet box from the confines of his pocket. Your hands make purchase around your mouth, stifling a wet cry.

In every lifetime I'll ask to be yours.

"Y/N L/N, will you marry me?"

You drop to your knees, tears tracing cordate-shaped rivulets down your cheeks. "Yes, Han, I'll marry you! I'll marry you!"

Your lips swear forever as they land on his, and that promise echoes far into lifetime number twelve.

ᡣ𐭩 felix + giving you gum wrapper hearts

Lee Felix was stupid in love, heavy on the stupid, figuring he was about to start World War Three to get that gum wrapper out of Seungmin’s hand.

“Please,” Felix begs, drawing out the "e" in an obnoxious whine.

Felix has been professing his love for you through gum wrapper hearts for about as long as he’s been chewing gum, so he is going to be damned if he lets one gum wrapper gets away without meeting his fingers first. Seungmin’s eyes harden into an frustrated glare, about two seconds away from punching a pizza-sized hole in his best friend’s face.

“You know, the more that you beg me for this wrapper, the more I don’t want to give it to you,” he deadpans, voice flat with irritation. Felix throws his head back in an ear-splitting groan.

“Whyyy not??”

“Oh my gosh, Seungmin, just give him the damn wrapper,” Chan interjects, exasperated.

“Yeah, listen to Chan. Give Felix the wrapper,” Felix teases, laying his chin on his hand, fluttering his lashes with a shit-eating grin. Seungmin clenches his jaw, crumpling up the foil—much to poor Lixie’s dismay.

“Did you see that, Chan?! Seungmin crumpled my wrapper!” Seungmin squeezes it harder. “Look! Do you see that, Chan?! Seungmin is bullying me!” Chan sighs, digging a knuckle into his eye. He is about five seconds away from sticking both grown toddlers in time out.

“Seungmin, for the sake of my sanity, give Felix the damn gum wrapper.” The fact that he actually had to tell two full-fledged adults that was truly beyond him, yet here he was.

“It’s the principle of it, old man—” As soon as the words leave his lips, Seungmin wants to stuff them right back in. Chan grits his teeth, steam practically whistling from his ears.

Oh, crap.

“You little—” Chan dives for Seungmin, to which he squeals, ducking from his elder’s hand, gearing up to smack him square in the forehead. In the clamber of movements, he ends up dropping the beloved wrapper. Felix lets out a squeal of excitement, lunging for the foil. When the crumpled aluminum sits in his hands, he has never felt so rewarded in his entire life, smiling like he just won a million bucks.

Almost out of muscle memory, he begins smoothing it out, folding up all the right corners. He beams, stuffing the little token into his pocket, fingers itching to give it to you later.

“Thanks, Seungmin,” Felix smirks, taking a proud sip of his drink. Seungmin manages to stick his tongue out while trapped in a headlock.

“You suck,” he wheezes, throwing weak slaps onto Chan's bicep. Felix giggles, his phone buzzing against his jeans. Felix quite literally drops everything to pick it up, his heart singing the same song as your special ringtone.

From: My world 💙 Look, baby, isn’t it so beautiful? I took the pic while I was on my way to work. I actually swerved off the road to take the picture, haha. Just wanted to share it with you. Love you, baby!! [Image.png]

When he clicks the image, his phone is flooded with the most breathtaking view. The sky is stained like melting ice cream, cotton candy colors that burst around your hair, though that isn’t what Felix is looking at—he is looking at you. The moment he looks into your lopsided smile, Cupid shoots him all over again.

From: My star-light 🌟 Wow.

From: My star-light 🌟 No words.

From: My star-light 🌟 I didn’t know my girlfriend could look so stunning.

From: My star-light 🌟 Oh, wait, there was a sunset back there somewhere.

From: My star-light 🌟 Yeah, that was pretty too.

From: My star-light 🌟 Are we still on for tonight?? I miss youuu.

From: My world 💙 Oh my gosh, Lix, you’re making me blush, haha.

Seungmin chokes somewhere in the background. Felix doesn’t notice. Felix is submerged in the silky ocean of rose-colored love.

From: My world 💙 Of course we are!!

From: My world 💙 I miss you too, baby!!

From: My world 💙 Literally can’t wait to see you.

Felix is mid-text when his friends suddenly turn bright red, clambering to untangle themselves from the mess of limbs they got themselves stuck in. Felix doesn’t realize the reason Chan is suddenly fixing his hair or Seungmin is unruffling his shirt is because two of the most stunning women just walked past them. Felix was too focused on making time move faster.

ᡣ𐭩

Felix has never been to space, though he can accurately say that he has tasted the sky.

He sips the stars off your lips, every shared breath an inhale of the galaxy. Felix knows that somewhere, someplace time exists, but not here, not now, not with the blades of grass lacing through his hair; not when he’s pressing your chest flush against his, rolling around on the ground until the night sky is kissing the earth in his vision. Your laughs are buried in his neck when he gets too dizzy to continue, littering kisses on the sensitive flesh there. You pull away for only a moment, brushing a rogue strand of hair off his brow. You smile, dipping to press a soft peck to the tip of his nose.

The two of you had crept into this darkened backyard hours ago; you proposing a date under the stars only to share them between your lips instead. You have been locked in this position for lifetimes, and Felix has no plan to stop.

His palms lift to graze your cheeks before sealing your mouths together again. His soft laugh puffs against the seam of your lips, his smile curving against your own. “God, I am so in love with you.”

He was; he so, so, so was.

He was so in love with you, he had almost forgotten about his gift. Key word: almost.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he gasps, chasing your warmth when he pulls away, sitting up.

“What?” you playfully whine, biting back a grin, settling your hips against his thighs. He chuckles, poking a finger into his pocket, fishing out the gum wrapper heart.

“I know it’s not perfect,” he whispers, cupping something in his palm, “but I hope you still like it.” He rolls his fingers out bashfully, offering you the crinkled silver heart. He bites his lip, a faint blush falling over the apples of his cheeks. The little gift was by no means perfect; it was ripped, wrinkled, and just a little lopsided. Yet you can’t help the fondness that explodes in your chest. Still cradling the heart with care, you throw your arms around his neck, tackling him to the ground. Your chest flush against his, he grunts when you land upon the earth, smacking slobbery kisses all over his face. You don’t stop, not until he is flipping you over, now attacking you with equally wet kisses. Your giggles live in the balmy summer air.

To you, he was the sun; but to him, you were the universe 

ᡣ𐭩 seungmin + buying you a bouquet every time the old ones wilt

October 11th, 2020.

That was the last time your apartment smelled like something other than florals. That was also the first time Seungmin had ever bought you flowers—a simple gift for your one-year anniversary that spiraled into a four-year tradition. You don’t ever talk about it, and he certainly denies it, when you thank him for how the wilting tulips magically evolved into beautiful daylilies. You find it endearing, the faint blush that falls over his cheeks when he tries to convince you that it wasn’t him.

Now that you think about it, your white roses did seem to have a little bit of brown on them yesterday.

Mid-wipe of the bathroom counter, you rush down the stairs, almost sliding into the kitchen in your socks. Without fail, there they were: bright red tulips, replacing the withering roses that had been in the vase earlier. A spreading grin pulls at your lips as you check the stove clock, quickly connecting the dots.

You had been cleaning the bathroom most of the evening, your earbuds blocking the world out. He had probably heard you humming from upstairs, choosing the perfect time to sneak in through the door. You squeal, sprinting up the stairs to throw open your bedroom door. You expect to find him lounging on the bed, but instead, you find him below it, cradling a square object in his hands. His head whips around, panic falling over his features. He slams the lid shut before fumbling to shove it right back under the bed, much to your dismay.

“Hey, what?” You yelp, diving for the box. Seungmin blocks you, accidentally knocking it out of his hands, unfurling its contents all over the floor.

It looks like a garden just threw up in your bedroom.

Hundreds, thousands of differently shaped petals are scattered on your floor, tufts of colorful memories spread out like a silky scroll. First, you freeze. Then, you gasp; your muscles thawing like a flower unfurling in the snow. It hits you slowly, blossoming in your chest and spilling from your eyes—Seungmin hasn’t been throwing away the flowers he bought you. He’s been collecting them.

You didn’t realize you were crying—not until you spoke—“Seungmin, what is this?”—then you heard it, your voice withering and wet. When you finally go to meet his gaze, he can’t seem to look at you, tilting his head down in shame.

“W-Well I-I’ve just…” he begins, trailing off with a rub of his burning neck. “Fuck, this is going to sound so stupid,” he flushes, staring down at the single yellow petal that fluttered onto his folded thighs. Suddenly, Seungmin feels your thumb brushing over his knuckles, and something shoots through his skin, something that straightens his spine and evens his breathing.

“I-I’ve um…” This was harder than he thought it would be. “Been collecting them for a while now, I wanted to keep them for when we get married. Wanted to scatter them down the aisle…”

His voice gets smaller with every word, sinking into himself as though that will make the gravity of the sentence less exposed, less raw. For a second, as silence stretches between you, Seungmin feels so stupid, embarrassment painting his cheeks red. You must think he’s such a fool, must think he’s crazy for ever believing he could marry you—his thoughts stop the moment your lips meet his, palms pressed firmly against his cheeks.

“I love you,” you whisper in between breaths, kissing him until it feels like you can’t kiss anymore; until he falls back upon the feathery bed made of magnolias and memories; until, with a star-lit sigh, he pulls away, untucking the red of a dried rose tangled above your brow. Even surrounded by God's most beautiful creations, he can’t bring his gaze to fall from yours, your eyes and all the mesmerizing sparkles they hold.

Seungmin couldn’t trace the exact moment he fell in love with you. Rather, it bloomed slowly over time, a feeling that took root; wrapping around the slabs of his ribs.

With you, he grew, and all of a sudden, with every breath he inhales, he finds you fluttering in his chest. At first, it terrified him. Though, now he knows—some gardens never die.

ᡣ𐭩 jeongin + stalking your goodreads profile to annotate your favorite books

“So, you’re a stalker, huh?” you muse, brushing your palm over Jeongin’s shoulder, which was clearly not a good idea, cause no sooner do you make contact is he jumping twenty feet out of his skin. You throw your hands up when he swivels around, ripping off his headphones like they were going to materialize into a baseball bat.

“Crap, y/n, you scared the hell out of me,” Jeongin pants, a relieved smile pulling on his cheeks; grateful that the intruder was indeed his girlfriend and not a 6-foot-tall man in a scream mask. For a second, he wonders if you’re possessed, a lopsided smirk playing on your lips while you tweak out, kind of laughing, kind of nodding, kind of looking like you need an exorcism. Then it hits him. Hits him like a 200-pound dump truck, rendering him breathless once more. He puts Flash to shame by how fast he slams his laptop shut, scrunching his face in cringe. The laugh you let out is devastating, a full-belly guffaw that makes you double over, stumbling straight into his arms.

For a second, when the lamplight hits you just right, Jeongin has to stop.

His breath catches in his throat, taking all of you in. There you were, with your hair falling in messy tangles, your eyelids slightly smudged in black, your smile boxy and sun-bright, you were perfect, and you were sitting on his lap. If you didn’t start talking, he would have stared at you for hours—probably would have started drooling as well.

“So, this is how you’ve known all my favorite books, huh?” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck. It takes him a hot second to gather himself, heart fluttering at the newfound proximity.

He stuffs his head into your neck, the heat of his cheeks burning into your skin. “Yeah…is that weird?”

“Is it weird?? Yang Jeongin, I’m pretty sure you just inadvertently proposed to me,” you reply, your tone light-hearted though you're dead serious.

“What?” He chuckles with a shy smile, leaning back.

“Yeah, I mean, you stalk your girlfriend’s Goodreads profile to read and annotate her TBR list. That is a proposal. I don’t make the rules.”

“Is that so?” he smirks, inching forward, your noses brushing together.

“Yeah,” you whisper, hot breath fanning across his lips, you lean in, finally sealing your mouths shut. Jeongin groans, your thumb swiping the nape of his neck. His heart pounds with a thousand different translations of 'I love you'.

“How many?”

He hums, slamming back down to earth, still a little bit dizzy.

“How many books have you bought?”

That sobers him up.

His eyes widen slightly before he bashfully chuckles, awkwardly scratching his ear. “Oh, uh…not that many.”

“Can I see them?” He’s two seconds from saying no, until you brush your lips against his cheeks, then his forehead, then the sides of his eyes, before, finally, he is tasting your grin instead, “Please?”

Well, how can he say no now?

He fiddles with the bottom of your shirt, biting his lip before sighing and pointing under his bed. “They’re all under there.”

You squeal, clambering off him to dive at the foot of his bed, sticking your hands into the dusty abyss below. It doesn’t take you but five seconds to find the box, though it takes you 5 minutes to actually pull the damn thing out, feeling more like a dead body than dead trees.

However, when you flip open the lid, the struggle is all worth it. Your jaw drops. Jeongin’s stomach flips upside down.

"Yang Jeongin, there’s no way..." You peer at him through dewy lashes, there had to be at least fifty books in this container. "You were planning on giving me all of these?"

"Well, yeah. Just...when I had enough time to annotate them."

"You've already given me like 10. How have you found enough time to read them?"

"I read them every night before I go to bed."

"And annotate them?"

He clears his throat, a faint blush falling over his cheeks like rose petals. "Yes."

"Where did you get the money for all this? These books have to have been like a thousand dollars."

"My check had just come in, and I knew how much you liked to read... I just wanted to do something nice for you. Why is this starting to feel kind of like an interrogation? Are you mad? Is this, like, really weird?" Jeongin can feel his eyes widen, anxiously shifting in place.

“One more question,” you step forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. He shutters when you make contact, gaze fluttering down. Jeongin expects you to laugh, maybe demand that he takes them back, or the worst of them all tell him he’s too obsessed. What he doesn’t expect you to do is drag him forward, and smash your lips together.

“How are you so perfect?” you exhale, puffing onto his lips like a breath of his own. He was going to show you how, he was going to show you how all night long.

ᡣ𐭩

If you thought he was perfect then you definitely think he is perfect now.

The sun slips through the curtains, dyeing your sweaty skin in gold; your mouth is nuzzled into his neck, lashes tickling his skin every time you shift. He draws phantom circles over your naked waist, savoring this moment, soaking your body in until he can remember the feel of your form through memory alone. You stir, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

It must have been a dream that urged you to say it, because somewhere, on the edge of sleep, you murmur, “What’s your favorite story?”

He didn’t have to think about the answer, not when he had thought about it a million times before. Without hesitation, Jeongin whispers, “Ours.”

(I rushed tf out of some of these I'm sorry)

[halfmoonshines]

damon salvatore getting dragged by his gf to a taylor swift concert? <3

I AM LIVVINGGGGGGG FOR TIHS PROMPT

i love you

--

anything for you

damon salvatore x f!reader

summary: the eras tour would be your dream come true, and maybe even Damon's.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You woke with a start from your side of the bed, Damon's arm wrapped around you in a vice grip and your phone ringing off the hook somewhere across the room. You managed to shimmy out of his grip and patted his arm in apology when you noticed his eyes fluttering open.

Crossing the room and picking up your phone right as it stopped ringing, you noticed that you had ten missed calls from Caroline. Worried, you typed in your pass code to call her back but you didn't have to - because her face popped up on the screen again.

"Hello?" You denied the FaceTime and instead chose to use it as a call, hand running through your ragged bed head. "Is someone dead?"

"Turn on your camera right now. Turn it on, Y/N, I swear to God. I want to see your face when I tell you this." You didn't think you'd ever heard the blonde sound so excited, and that was definitely saying something.

You pulled the phone away from your face and groaned, tapping a few buttons until Caroline's screen appeared. But it wasn't her face, she was looking at her laptop. You tried to focus your eyes but were failing horribly.

"Do you believe it!?!"

"Caroline, I just woke up. I can't see that." You tried your best not to sound annoyed with your best friend.

Caroline's camera flipped, smile shining brightly. "That, my love, is an email I got this morning from Taylor Nation containing an early access code to Eras Tour tickets in Atlanta! They said it was for that Spotify challenge we did, so I'd bet you have one too."

She didn't need to say that because you had already pulled out your email app, refreshing it to see if there was a gift waiting there.

There was.

"Oh my god!" You jumped a bit and Caroline renewed her screeching over the phone, immediately jumping into outfit ideas.

"Fuck me." Damon's curse was barely audible from behind you.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You began preparing him from that day forward. You knew that he knew about Taylor Swift, especially since you played her all the time, but he didn't know enough. Not Eras Tour enough.

He was reluctant at best. Always a quip and a half away from you throwing your phone at his head.

"So you're saying that she vanished for years because she was so criticized and then made it her entire personality? Came out with an album about how misunderstood she was? Dramatic." The last word was sing-song, casually flipping a page in his magazine.

You stalked over to his place on the couch angrily, gripping his leg to uncross his ankles and sit at the edge of the couch, forcing him into a sitting position. "It's iconic, Damon. She's a literal superstar."

His smile was sardonic but his eyes only held love. "Whatever you say, Darling?"

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You were practically vibrating in your hotel room, placed in front of the mirror and putting the last touches on what you believed to be the perfect outfit.

It was your version of the Midnights body suit, just a shade darker, and a bit more tassel. Your eyes looked up and caught Damon gazing at you from his position in the bed. You offered him a large smile, knowing he was definitely about to step out of his comfort zone. He'd been a good sport about the outfit though, and was wearing a black 'My Girlfriend's a Swiftie' shirt. It was adorable.

You turned to him and leaned down with a quick kiss. "Thank you for coming with me."

He pulled you back for a more drawn out one, and gave you his signature smirk. "Anything for you."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

By the time that Taylor got to your favorite era, you were already on your third wind. Damon had been way more amiable about it than you thought he would be, swaying along to one side while you and Caroline were going absolutely feral, belting all the lyrics.

That was, until the surprise songs. She started strumming the first few lines of Timeless and you felt Damon stiffen next to you, jaw clenching a bit. You were over the moon, Timeless was one of your favorite songs. Little did you know it was Damon's too.

You swayed along to the beginning of the song, arm linked through Caroline's. But about halfway through, over the singing crowd, you heard the man next to you singing softly.

"I thought 'bout it as I started looking around at these precious things that time forgot."

You tried your best not to turn and stare at him, but he definitely noticed the grin spreading across your face. You started singing along too, other arm reaching out to grasp his hand.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

[laundrybiscuits]

Spotify wrapped #13 (my lucky number😋)

Unfortunately sparklyslug got there first, so I pulled up a random number generator and it served up #36! Hope that’s okay.

baby why don’t you come over / red wine supernova / falling into me / I don’t care that you’re a stoner / red wine supernova / fall right into me

The first time Stevie meets her is on Halloween, which doesn’t seem strange at the time. Stevie’s wearing her mom’s old go-go boots from the sixties and she’s teased her hair up into a beehive; it’s silly, but she thinks she actually looks pretty hot in her little minidress.

Eddie agrees, apparently. She’s got some kind of tacky vampire costume on, and not even a sexy one. It doesn’t even look like she’s put that much effort into it: just a faded waistcoat that looks secondhand, a garbage-bag cape, and plastic fangs that keep slipping off. 

It should look ridiculous. It does look ridiculous. But the way Eddie keeps glancing over with hot dark eyes from across the room is…it’s not something Stevie’s really considered before, and if she had considered it, she would expect it to be just about anyone else. Someone normal, ideally. 

Anyway, she doesn’t think too hard about it when she sees Eddie leaning on the railing of the deck all by herself, a little past midnight. She slips out the screen door, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill, and walks over.

“Hi,” she says. “I’m Stevie.”

“I know,” says Eddie. “I’m Eddie.”

“I know,” she says. She’d asked around. 

“You know, huh?” says Eddie, raising her eyebrows. “Okay, Stevie. You’re not scared to be out here in the dark with a creature of ze night?” Eddie makes a dumb face, baring her plastic fangs. 

“Terrified.” She’s had a glass or two of cab, nowhere near enough to justify the bold way she reaches up and plucks the fangs right out of Eddie’s mouth. “Or I would be, if these weren’t fake as hell. Did you get them at the dollar store?” 

“Those are fake, sure,” says Eddie. “These aren’t, though.”

Stevie’s been a little distracted glancing down at the shine of Eddie’s spit on her fingertips. When she looks back up, Eddie’s watching her carefully, lip curled back to show a set of long, curving canines. 

“That’s, um,” Stevie swallows. “That’s fake too.”

Eddie runs the tip of her tongue along the edge of her impossible teeth. “Not gonna get grabby again?”

Stevie sees herself reaching out like someone else is moving her hand, and brushes her finger down a fang. Even before she makes contact, though, she knows.

“So, pretty little Stevie Harrington,” says Eddie. Her voice is like smoke. “Why’d you come out here? Do you even know?”

“No,” says Stevie honestly. “But—I think you do.”

“Good answer,” says Eddie, and bites down.

—

Eddie jumps when Stevie slides onto the barstool next to her.

“Jesus, are you stalking me?” 

“No!” Stevie’s really not. Asking around about where Eddie might hang out, and then trying to be in those places at the appropriate times—that’s not stalking, that’s just. Showing an interest. Being proactive. A real go-getter move, like her softball coach used to say. 

“I just…thought you might want some dinner. Or breakfast. I don’t know if you, um…” Stevie trails off uncertainly. She’s only ever seen Eddie after dark, but Eddie doesn’t seem like the kind of person who kept normal hours even when she was alive, so she’s not sure if the whole daylight thing is true or not.

At any rate, she’s come prepared in a low-cut dress, no necklace or anything, faint wounds on full display. She’d thought about covering them up—maybe vampires like it when girls are totally innocent and, like, unpunctured? She’d run, if Eddie wanted to chase her. She’s given a lot of thought to Eddie chasing her, and even more thought to what might happen if Eddie caught her. But Stevie loves catching a glimpse of the marks in the mirror too much, and anyway concealer probably tastes bad. 

Eddie’s eyes keep flicking between the marks and Stevie’s cleavage in her push-up bra, so that all seems to have worked out okay. 

“I don’t…usually eat breakfast,” says Eddie slowly. “Not really one for, like. Pancakes.”

“I didn’t bring you pancakes,” says Stevie. 

“Is this—are you a hunter or something?” Eddie asks abruptly. “You have to tell me if you’re a hunter, it’s the law.”

Stevie wrinkles her nose. “There’s no way that’s true. But wait, vampire hunters are real too?”

“Buncha small-minded dicks who don’t even—anyway, what is this then, some kinda revenge?” 

“For what?”

“I don’t know! Despoiling your maiden form!”

“I don’t remember a lot of despoiling,” says Stevie, tugging her dress down a little just to watch Eddie’s eyes snap down and back up, lightning-fast. “But you could refresh my memory.”

“You do remember the, uh.” Eddie glances around at the dimly-lit bar; the nearest people are a couple of leather-clad women swaying together by the jukebox halfway across the room. Eddie flashes her fangs, and Stevie’s entranced by the way her normal teeth shift out of the way. 

“Uh-huh,” she says. 

“I guess I’m a little confused,” says Eddie. 

“It’s not that complicated.” Stevie reaches out to tuck her fingertips underneath the cuff of Eddie’s jacket. “I’m saying I live a couple blocks away, and you should come over. Have a drink. See how it goes.”

“Well…okay. Jesus.” Eddie tilts her head, looking at Stevie with something unreadable in her eyes. “Pretty little Stevie Harrington. Guess you figured out what you want, huh?”

“Guess I did,” says Stevie. 

“This isn’t, like—I’m not promising anything,” says Eddie, but she lets Stevie wear her jacket the whole walk back.

[ladysomething]

hi hunnnnn. I have 3 things, maybe 4

1. what in the everloving fuck is chubes. I've been wreckling my mind for days because I for the love of the ch words cannot understand what it means.

2. do you have the list of the pro-anti omega drivers that another anon did? just wondering. I wanna read it out of curiosity.

3. anon (s?) with the top Charles fright. I feel you. and before you, my dear Mads (I didn't even know that was your name, so, hi Mads), try to convert me, I myself already tried. it work out like shit because now I have PTSD. I kinda tried to look it up but my knowlegde of how to use ao3 is nonexistent at worst and laughable at best so I kinda ended up in a Voltron with Charles Dickens as the name fic. just kinda. it was something. and then when I deciphered the tags I started reading Yours. and don't get me wrong. it's great, my love to the author. but in my mind fic Charles is just the biggest twink ever and it must remain as such. regardless of where. but y'all do yourselves

4. I was just wondering if in the future you would be open to make some Max POV's from past moments. what I want to say is that I really wanna know what went throw Max’s mind when he hear Fred speak about the bruises. but I mean it like. when you've finished WYGIG obviously.

+1. I have storted things out about myself with this fic. have you seen that funny ao3 wrapped post? the one that's like spotify wrapped but ao3 and goes something like you get a fav author, and then you stalk them, see they are into some weird shit and now you're into that too? that's me with breeding kink. I'm a different person now than I was before starting this fic. (thanks)

+2 anon that wanted to draw them, please I beg you do it. I wanna see some fanarts 😽

so obviously I did 6 things. wow

ok I'll go one by one!!!!

lmao I forget that people aren't like. seeing everything like I'm seeing everything hahaha. but basically the other day the forum was discussing what Charles would do if he got pregnant accidentally, and then somebody suggested Max get a vasectomy, and somebody else said "You can never trust a man, Charles should get his chubes tied." so chubes = Charles tubes. NOT pubes, in case that was an option you came up with hahah

I don't have it on hand, I'm sorry! but I THINK what I told people was Lewis is outwardly pro omega, we'd already discussed Daniel would be pro omega (I think???), Lando was in the publicly staying out of category (but has now been revealed to have nefarious intentions), and George would be completely anti-omega just for funsies.

look I'll ignore what is obviously a very underdeveloped palette from you to address the REAL issue here: how did you end up at a fic with Charles Dickens?????????? pls message me and I can give you a crash course on how to use ao3, because a beautiful world awaits you my friend.

hm well, I probably won't go over it COMPLETELY, but there are some insights into previous Charles chapters when we finally get back to a Max POV.

+ 1. I'll be honest, that was my reaction the first time I read a fic with breeding kink. I was like "oh. this is really something I've learnt about myself huh."

+ 2. SAME!!!! Many big loves to anybody willing to draw Max fucking Charles into oblivion while telling him he wants to get him pregnant. (jk ... but also ... 👀👀)

[baronetcoins]

what does the spotify oracle tell us about 28 or 76?

[send me a number 1-100 and i will try to write a short drabble based off whatever song that corresponds to in my spotify wrapped]

76: Jubilee Line by Wilbur Soot

I hate to see you leaving Fate worse than dying Your city gave me asthma So that's why I'm fucking leaving

The treaty ink was well and properly dried, carefully folded away in the archives of state. Montjoy had carried it there himself—the last man trusted by both sides. He pulled his tabbard off and folded it neatly on his bed. He'd leave it behind to give his successor something to wear until they could find their own. His fingers traced the embroidered lilies. Would the man that followed him quarter them with the lions?

"Are you going somewhere?" Henry spoke from the door of the room.

"Your majesty." He inclined his head, but did not turn around. Henry stalked forward.

"You've tendered your resignation."

"Yes." Their bodies were close together—his was a small room, and Henry had a way of making himself known. Unbidden his mind summoned an image of how he'd been standing with the princess—her hand in his, their lips almost touching. He stiffened.

"What will you do? Montjoy, King-of-Arms, turned what?" Henry's voice was carefully measured, his hand hovering somewhere near Montjoy's.

"Buy a farm, maybe. Become one of those vintners we have been missing for so long."

"Montjoy—"

"Please." When Henry reached for his hand, he caught it. "I've served the crown for most of my life. Perhaps most of yours. I cannot bear to watch."

"I have no malice against your throne."

"Not that. You. I don't think I could bear to watch your life from away. I thought I would see you die on that field." He squeezed Henry's hand. "I thought that would be the end of it, and I would have nothing but the story of a good king. I'm tired."

"You wouldn't have to be away. I could find a home for you in my court."

He shook his head faintly. "I can't."

"Then offer me this before you go?" Henry reached for his chin, standing up on his toes. He kissed Montjoy once, pressing their foreheads together, and then letting him step past. Montjoy picked up his borrowed hood and slid it over his head.

"Thanks to your majesty." He turned as he grabbed his pack from the door.

"Go in peace, gentle herald."

[void-botanist]

Wrapped Scenelets No. 50: contacts

I'm writing scenelets for (most of) my Spotify Wrapped top 100 songs. Here's number 50, We Don't Talk Anymore by Charlie Puth and Selena Gomez.

━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━

Pax shut the door behind them, took stock of their empty apartment, and stalked to the glass sliding door at the other end of the living room. Standing there with arms crossed, staring out at the sun-dappled buildings built around the giant trunks across the street, they tried to summon the same feeling of anger they’d felt two days ago. The situation hadn’t changed: Ellery had abandoned them and hadn’t even been sorry about it. No matter why he felt that way, he still wanted to be with Nid more than he wanted to be with them. And yet, when they thought about it now, all they could feel was the emptiness of the apartment around them. El had come mostly to see them and he’d left yesterday after arranging a way to take Nid home safely. He would be on his way back to Elbas now, and who knew when he’d be back.

They had the urge to text him a “safe travels” or something like that. But they couldn’t even do that. He’d been very clear he didn’t want to hear from them unless they were ready to apologize, and honestly? Maybe they would after he did, and stopped acting like he hadn’t at least hurt their feelings. Maybe he didn’t really understand what it meant to be their helmsman. That they didn’t trust him lightly. That every day was this emptiness, in all the Confluence. That they’d lived there all their life but somehow it felt less like home when he was gone. El seemed to think that was a them problem. But for some reason he felt at home on Elbas again, when he swore he’d never go back, and Pax had believed him. Because what else were they supposed to do?

Pax sighed and turned away from the window. Ellery was being a self-righteous cunt. But beneath it all what they wanted most—what they wanted to want most—was for him to be happy. And apparently he was now, so.

━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━

Scenelets wrapped taglist: @kk7-rbs

[morrisxn02]

Edward couldn’t do much to control the deliciously defeated smirk that perked up on his face as Natalia profiled him like a reporter. Maybe it was a good thing that she did such an amazing job at distracting him, because he was already starting to feel a little less angry at the whole G situation.

Yes, that was a test. Yes, he did like pretentious classical music. And yes, he did know how to play the piano. It’s impressive how in touch you can be with the fine arts when you have so much spare time on your hands. He bit down on his lips and shook his head in denial. A scoff escaped his nostrils. Jesus Christ, why was she like this? “You know, the fact that you’re the youngest of five really explains a lot…” He teased, not caring to elaborate, almost in late comeback to her calling him a Neanderthal. Good one, though, he had to admit. Funny. Almost.

He opened his window, face still a bit hot from the adrenaline rush caused by G’s previous text.

“But yeah, I do. I do play the piano. The electric guitar too.” That one he had learned in secret. His parents had always seen the guitar as a lesser instrument that made lesser music. Something only ignorants could enjoy because they were unable to appreciate the complexity of Chopin’s soft harmonies, or Mozart’s dramatic compositions… Which was what made that one of those tiny little secrets that wouldn’t really surprise anyone else but would certainly scandalize his parents. There was something almost intimate about how he had shared that with her without a second thought. And if he didn’t think Natalia Vega was the most annoying person west of the Atlantic, maybe that would have been a special little bonding moment. But alas.

If Natalia had been looking at him when she pressed play, and Danielle Haim’s delicate, mellow voice first broke the silence, she would have seen him trying to disguise that his eyes widened briefly in sweet surprise and that a hint of a smile was beginning to color his features.

Gasoline, pretty please.

Women in Music pt. III had been one of the top albums on his Spotify Wrapped since the year of its release. There was something soothing and sexy about the funk and R&B influences that made him obsessed with the HAIM sisters for the first time in his life. Even the Taylor Swift version of the song had become a favorite.

Go on and kick off your boots… In the passenger seat.

He felt like the fact that they had that in common, out of all things, should have driven him over the wall, made him annoyed or angry. Imaging something so close to his heart was also as special to the most irritating person he knew should’ve driven him insane. But it didn’t for some reason.

Strike a match, strike a match, watch it blow.

He didn’t say anything until the second chorus. Until he could think of something that wasn’t a compliment. “Have you been stalking my Spotify, Vega?” His voice sarcastic as always. He took one lingering look at her, her dark hair flowing in the wind at high speed like autumn leaves. His fingers drumming on the wheel in perfect synchrony to the beat of the song.

Want you bad, want you bad, don't you know?

Nat didn't buy what he was selling, letting his words linger in the air as she scrutinized him, eyes narrowing. She didn't trust Edward Morrison, had never trusted Edward Morrison, and would never trust Edward Morrison. But she said none of that, instead glancing down at his outfit again with an indelicate snort. "I'm surprised you even know what Tomorrowland is, to be honest."

Her lips quirked in what could have been a teasing smile. If she had any non-hateful feelings towards Edward Morrison. Which she didn't. But there was something kind of... well, she wasn't going to say cute, about how lost he seemed. Even she had known what it meant to dress for a rave. She, the little sheltered, church girl.

If only her church could see her now.

When Eddie told her he was giving a ride rather than just asking, she folded her arms across her chest and refused to move for several long moments. Something about him made her need to be a contrarian, to be a constant thorn in his side that he couldn't pluck. She'd been doing a great job so far.

But with G's creepy little texts, she really didn't like the idea of being here any longer alone, and certainly not dressed like this. She probably couldn't run in it without flashing her vagina, for god's sake! So, she relented, and followed along behind him. "Slow down you neanderthal! I have little legs! Unless you were planning on ditching me here. In which case you're doing a great job," she grumbled.

But he wasn't planning on it, it seemed, and part of her kind of wished he had. It would have given her more fuel, more reason to hate him, and a hell of a reason to talk about it. But he didn't and she slid into the passenger seat of his too-nice car and did her best not to look at all impressed by it.

His suggestion that she control the music made her suspicious. Like, somehow, he was testing her. And worse, she wanted to pass that test. "This feels like a test," she said as she connected her phone to the car's Bluetooth and scrolled through her playlists. "I bet you like pretentious classical music." She looked over at him, gauging his face to see if she was right. "Bet you know how to play piano, too." Her eyes flicked to his long fingers currently wrapped around the steering wheel and then moved quickly away. In moments, Gasoline by HAIM was trickling through the speakers and Nat turned her head to look out at campus as it flew by, for some reason unwilling to see what he had to think about her music tastes.

Because she was definitely going to take it personally.

[idy-ll-ique]

My Little Secret.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Innocent!F!Reader

Genre : Fluff, little bit of Angst

Warnings: none

Requested: nope

Summary: Y/N listens to music 24/7 on Spotify. At first Ransom is irritated, but now he knows just how to use the application to his benefit. I mean, come on, it can't be considered stalking if it's his wife, right?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! oml a ransom drysdale fanfiction 😳 if I ever meet this asshole in real life I'd sock him in the jaw but in fiction? mamma mia. enjoy!

---

Does she really love an app more than me?

Ransom scoffed to himself as he opened his laptop, clicking on the music app, Spotify. He rarely used it, but his wife was obsessed with it. She listened to music 24/7; singing along to the soft tunes in her playlists while working, reading, cleaning, cooking, anything. Ransom thought it was insane how submerged she was in the activity.

Until that activity gave him an upper-hand in their relationship.

When he had first opened the app on his laptop, he was a tad bit surprised at the "Friends Activity" feature. He saw her account. Then, as more months passed, he started noticing how when she was happy, she'd always be listening to some happy playlist, when she was sad she'd be listening to sad songs, et cetera. And he started using it to his advantage.

Now, everyday before leaving his office he'd check the app to see what playlist she was listening to. If it was a happy, dance playlist, well and fine. But a sad one? Ransom's mood would also sour because my darling is not feeling okay. While going home, he'd buy something for her; mostly flowers or chocolates, or a nice little trinket that he'd find in the displays of shops that he thought his wife would enjoy.

He never told her about it. What he was doing would be considered stalking but come on, is it stalking if she's your wife? As the app finally loaded, his eyes immediately strayed to the Friends Activity and his heart clenched when he saw her listening to her sad playlist that she had named Melancholy. Sighing, he turned off the laptop and left his office for the night.

As he drove back home, he stopped outside a flower shop and bought an adorable little bouquet of mixed flowers. "She'll love it," the florist assured him, assuming he was buying it for his significant other. He gave her a quick smile and got back into the car, driving home as fast as he could. When he reached home, his heart broke at the sniffle he heard.

"Kitten?" Y/N's head shot up at her husband's voice as she hurriedly wiped her tears, getting up from her spot on the couch. "Hi, welcome home," she whispered, giving him a quick peck on the lips, smiling widely to avoid being caught. "Hello, how was your day?" He wanted to sigh, to chide her for keeping her bad mood from him, but he only smiled at how cute she looked trying to hide her true feelings.

"It wasn't bad! So, shower first and dinner later or dinner first?"

Now was the time. "Kitten, the truth, please. How was your day?" He raised a stern eyebrow when her face fell. How does he always read me so well? Knowing she couldn't hide now, she hung her head low as her shoulders sagged. "It was bad," she muttered. Ransom pulled her close, her head resting on his chest, his chin atop her head. "What happened? I swear if it's those fucking coworkers of yours—"

Her silence gave him the answer. The thing is, when Ransom and Y/N had started going out, everyone in the city was shocked. A cute, innocent little thing like her dating an asshole like him? Why? She had lost quite a few friends when she told them, but Ransom was there for her. "You don't need them, you have me." He was right. While the world saw him as a first-class jerk, he was the softest soul with her.

Her priorities were always placed before his. He took care of her, treated her like no previous boyfriend of hers had, and within 2 years of dating, he had proposed. People were even more shocked. She managed to get him to settle down?! How?! Then the gossip began. "He has to be cheating, I mean look at him. Look at her," she had heard one time after the engagement. That had made her super upset.

"Ransom, they're talking… someone said you were cheating on me…" She had broken down on his chest that night, crying her eyes out. And Ransom had immediately switched off the television. He sat up, holding her close. "You know I'd never do that, angel. Why would I, when you're with me? Do you really think those women out there have the same effect on me that you do? Huh?"

"Well, they said… they said I was ugly."

"What?! Those fucking whores—"

"Ransom, don't call them that," she had chided, swatting his chest. He caught the hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each fingertip. "If it makes you feel better, no, I'm not cheating on you. I love you a little too much to do that. You mean the world to me, Y/N, there's no one on this planet I'd rather be with than you. And you are the most beautiful person I've ever seen, in and out," he told her sincerely.

Her crying ceased. "Thank you." And he held her close the entire night, rubbing her back as she slept on him. People talking about him? He could handle that, God knows he had been handling that for years. But them talking about her? His perfect, angelic, goddess-like fiancée? No, no, he wouldn't handle that. That whole thing was 4 years ago. People still talked.

"What did they say to you, Y/N?" he asked, coming back to the real world.

"They asked me why I was still with you." He exhaled loudly through his nose when Y/N's arms tightened around him. "I told them I loved you. You are nice, you're not what everyone says you are. But then Amy talked about… about how you used to be— what was the word she used? Oh, uh, yeah, she said you were something of a Casanova before you met me. But I told her that was over."

His arms snaked around her waist, his fingers gently dancing over her hips as she continued speaking. "She insisted that people can't just change over a small period of time. I tried ignoring her but then she started gossiping with someone else about you. And then I snapped at her. But you know me…" Ransom hummed, pressing his lips to her forehead.

His wife had a docile soul. Everything from her looks to her mannerisms was soft. She couldn't yell, she couldn't tell people off— she was too pure to do that. The world needed people like her, to be honest. That was also one of the things he liked about her. Sometimes, he thought about how beneficial it would be for her to hold her own in a fight, but his ego shoved the thought down each time.

He liked being her big protector. He loved taking care of her like that. "Yes, I know, angel. You're too good for this world, you know that?" he mumbled, slightly pulling away from her so he could cup her face, looking into her eyes. She huffed and looked away. "I'm too soft. I can't help it. I don't want to be this way." He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her. "Oh no, you should definitely be this way."

"Why?"

"Because it suits you. Don't change for people who don't even care about you. I like you like this; gentle, caring… you have the biggest heart in the world, Y/N. And I want to keep it that way. Don't let people ruin your innocence. Keep being you." He pressed her closer when she started sniffling again. "You're too good to me," she pouted and he laughed. "That's my duty as your husband, kitten. Look, I bought flowers."

He took out the bouquet from his bag, smiling when Y/N's eager hands accepted it. "Thank you! Oh, these are so beautiful! Let me replace the flowers in the vase on the dining table!" Squealing, she walked away from him, leaving him to stare after her with an infatuated smile. You have no idea what you do to me, angel.

---

"Night, Ran," Y/N yawned, keeping her phone away. He held his arm up and Y/N snuggled into his side, allowing him to wrap his arm around her side. "Night, sweetheart," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her nose. He watched TV for some time until the match got boring; then he switched it off and carefully lay down on the bed, about to doze off when Y/N's phone rang. He blinked. Who'd be calling at his hour?

He lifted the phone off the nightstand, grimacing when he saw the Caller ID. Amy. As soon as he picked the phone up, Amy started blabbering. "Hi! Sorry I'm calling so late, Y/N, but I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you at work today. It was wrong of me, really, I hope you can forgive me!" Ransom stayed silent, his jaw clenched. He had been hearing that line for years.

"Ransom, it's okay, she apologized, she won't be doing it again. She told me so herself!"

It was never the last time.

"Are you done?" he snapped and Amy froze on the other side. "M-Mr Drysdale—" "Listen, I don't want to hear it. I'm not Y/N; she has a heart of gold, God, I wonder why I let her hang out with people whose hearts are made of pure shit. How many times have you apologized for the same thing, huh? Using my girl's pure heart to your fucking advantage like that?"

"You're being—"

"I'm being what? I'm being rude? Who started it? If you ever mention our marriage in front of Y/N again, I'll have your fucking head." Amy bristled on the other side. "Are you threatening me?" Ransom smirked. "If you don't want to be threatened, I suggest you keep your nose out of other people's business. What mine and Y/N's relationship is like is no one's concern."

Amy stayed silent. "Gossiping won't get you anywhere. I have the best lawyers in the city, and I swear, if Y/N comes crying to me one more time about how someone was rude to her, I'll sue. Trust me, I will take legal action. Is that understood?" Amy quaked at his menacing tone. "Y-Yes, sir." Ransom's lips curled into a devious smile. "Great." And he ended the call.

"Ransom, who was that?" Y/N sleepily murmured next to him. She hadn't heard a word of the conversation, but could tell he was on the phone. "No one you need to worry about, sweetheart, go to sleep. I'm here." He lay down next to her, pulling her close. "You know, I have a question." He nodded at her to go on. "How do you always know when I'm going to be in a bad mood?"

"What do you mean?" he smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. "I mean, I have been wondering for years! Everytime I happen to be in a bad mood, you bring home a gift. It's like— it's like you can read my mind! How?! It can't be a coincidence, it has happened a lot of times for it to be a coincidence," she rambled and Ransom's heart fluttered at how innocent and adorable she looked.

"I have my ways," he teased, lightly poking her nose. "You're not gonna tell me, are you?" she pouted and he couldn't help but lean forward, pressing his lips to hers. "Nope, just so I can keep surprising you." She giggled, snuggling further into his arms until her face was pressed into his bare chest. "I love you so much, Ransom," she whispered. "I love you more, my sweet little angel."

Both of them went to sleep with giddy smiles on their faces.

Oh, and the Spotify thing? That was his little secret. Shh, don't tell anyone!

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[sincerely-lev]

yandere ratings. - ushijima wakatoshi x reader, oikawa toruu x reader.

Summary: i rate haikyuu men as Yanderes.

Warnings: yandere stuff, minor character death, babytrapping (ushijima's side.)

A/N: I have been wanting to do this for quite awhile now, remember that **I DO NOT SUPPORT THIS BEHAVIOUR IN REAL LIFE.**

Ushijima Wakatoshi: violent (towards other people & you.) , abusive, possessive.

Danger Level: 100/10.

I think that ushijima would be scary as a yandere, considering on how strong he is.

So if you have him as your yandere, it's safe to do as he would like, or he would be forced to do something he might regret.

He won't force sex on you (yet,) rather, he either threatens you, or lock you up and refuse to feed or give you water until you come crawling back to him, begging for forgiveness and crying.

Oh, how he loves it when you cry, it turns him on a lot, but he won't force sex on you just yet. not yet. He still has his patience dangling off a thin thread.

You probably met when you were just cheering on Adlers, and yet somehow he noticed you from the crowd. You looked so pretty, it was hard to resist your charms, so after the match. he quickly ran over to you, and oh my god were you so surprised and blushing that your favourite player noticed you.

You two talked for awhile, and he got your number. Your friends were cheering on like 'go get that monster cock!' when he left, which of course you told them off.

He believes it was love at first sight, but his heart tugs in pain and anger when he sees you talking to the opposite gender, or in fact, any gender at all.

He stalks you for awhile, scaring off any potential rivals, next thing you know, your friends just avoid you in fear.

When you tried to go on a date with another man, however, that is what leaded him to snapping, he ruined your date, at night, uphill, pushing your boyfriend off the cliff, and holding tightly onto your waist as you cried for your boyfriend, and calling Wakatoshi a monster.

Him, as a monster? Don't you just know that he's doing what's best for you?

Stupid little girl, you can't do anything right without him, that is why he's going to take you in his beautiful house, and force you as Mrs. Ushijima.

He thinks of himself as a traditionalist, where the woman takes care of the child that the husband gives them.

You seem to not want a child from a monster, though.

Just don't try to escape, or he'll drag you back from the hair, breed you over and over, and make sure you're pregnant to never escape him.

You're his and his alone.

Oikawa Toruu: Clingy, Manipulative, Obsessive.

Danger Level: 5.6/10.

He won't be the scariest, though he's definitely not the nicest.

So, if you have him as your yandere, you have to learn how to get past his manipulative behaviour.

He will guilt trip you, saying that you don't love him anymore and will even cry.

As for his punishments, he definitely uses sex as punishment, spanking you, pulling your hair, and generally making you feel like shit. You should be behaving after the session.

He's extremely clingy, always sticking by your side 24/7, dropping anything that he's doing to stay by your side. It pisses Iwaizumi off, but he can't do anything about his friends obsession.

The sad thing is that your friends will be willing to leave you with Oikawa. He has everyone in the school wrapped around his fingers.

Everyone constantly coos about how you two are such a cute couple, and he easily manipulates your parents into liking him.

You probably were Iwaizumi's friend, or at least friends with one of the Aoba Johsai Boys Volleyball Team or in his class otherwise you two would have never met.

That being said,

You were waiting for Issei finish his practise, just on your phone, listening to your spotify playlist.

About to get up to leave him, since you've been waiting for around 30 minutes now, was only then did you see the white and blue uniform.

"Yoooo, babe, you actually waited for me!" Issei shouted, whilst running towards you, the other three Seijoh 3rd Years following.

"Issei, don't call me babe, we aren't dating.." you deadpan, as he laughs, holding onto your shoulder, shaking you.

Oikawa feels his heart beat faster, in both jealousy and love... No, something more than love. Obsession.

He doesn't seem to enjoy the fact that Issei was touching you, even though he was a close friend of yours. He doesn't even know you, but he wants you all for himself.

He starts off by making you put your guard down for him, being friendly with you, and buying you gifts. He drops all of his fangirls, and drops anything for you.

Once you start dating him, it was normal, until it wasn't, and he doesn't want you to hang out with your other friends, tracking you, and generally always wanting to know where you are.

That one time you try to confront him about it, he acted stupid, like what he is doing is normal because you are both dating. He promises he will stop, but he doesn't.

He gets worse... good luck.

[imaginationjunkie]

Dancing with our hands tied

Jason Todd x Reader

It’s kinda soft

Thought of these songs while writing, so give them a listen while reading!

Note: Jason’s 25 and the reader is 21

I was always a fan of the over the top charity galas Bruce Wayne threw. The elitists in their flashy riches, extravagant decorations and endless varieties of food, and a certain Wayne brother in a suit. It was all very amusing to witness.

I felt like a princess walking down the stairs with Tim every time, who refused to ever get an actual date. So I’d been stuck being his unofficial date for the 5 years that I’d known him. Not that I minded much; he was my best friend after all.

I chose a simple flowy dress tonight, blood red in color, silky like water. The subtle eyes that followed me through the evening didn’t go unnoticed.

But my eyes followed just one sight. A sight that erupted the unwanted greenness of jealousy as I sulked in a corner, celebrating turning 21 recently with a champagne flute in hand.

I felt him before I saw him. Warmth soothed my skin at his presence, despite the fact that I was unfairly mad at him. It wasn’t like he was my boyfriend.

Easier to say than do, and thus all the salt in the world seemed to be in my tone as I spoke first.

“Where’s your date?”

Jason Todd’s eyes might’ve been cool blue, but the feel of them didn’t match the description. The side of my head felt like it would burst into golden flames under the intensity of his stare.

But they were the good kind of flames, the best kind of flames. It was almost miraculous, the way I managed to keep my calm.

“She bailed, something about her sick grandma,” was his soft response.

“Hmm.”

“What’s with the tone?” He leaned closer, hot breath teasing my cheek. Jason had gotten awfully bold since the first time we met, when he couldn’t even look into my eyes straight.

“Is it jealousy I sense?”

I tried to be subtle about my sharp inhale. Judging by the stutter of his lips as he suppressed a smirk, I failed.

But why hide anymore? I was never one to hold back anyway.                                                                                                                          “Yes, it is.”

It was my turn to take his breath away. I turned my head, challenging him with my stare. But I was too tangled in his game to play in charge. He had me, and he knew it. Right?

A smile filled with swirls of mischief and satisfaction designed his lips. Yes, he definitely knew it.

It caught me off guard, the unfiltered beauty of it. Of him. Watching Jason Todd smile, really smile, was not for the weak hearted.

“Then I think you’ll be happy to know that she wasn’t a date. Just a friend.”

Eyes the color of a swirling blue sea, a face handsome enough to cause heartache. Why’d it take me so long to realize that I could never resist him? Not even in a million years. Not even if Ryan Gosling came offering himself to me.

A little too far?

Maybe, but it’s true. What to do?

I was just about to walk away from him, refill the empty flute of champagne to bring back sparkle to my uneventful evening. A large hand wrapping around my wrist stopped me.

“Let’s dance,” he said with the softness of tulle, pulling my frame closer to his larger one. Close enough to smell his cologne. Like a creep in the street, I subtly took a slow sniff of it.

It’d never stop amusing me, how a man who seemed as rough and rugged around the edges as he did had so much softness in him.

And smelled so. damn. good.

“M’kay,” I agreed, following as he led the way to the ballroom. Or so I thought.

“I thought you wanted to dance?” I inquired, looking back at the flashing dance floor full of people we left behind.

“I do.” His eyes twinkled as he looked back at me, still walking to God knows where with my hand in his.

“We literally just crossed the dance floor, where else on earth do you plan on taking me dancing?”

“Who said anything about a dance floor?”  Jason smirked, coming to a stop in the garden behind the manor.

Even though it was off limits to Bruce’s guests tonight, the garden looked particularly beautiful. Strings of fairy lights decorated the flawlessly kept greens and flowers, courtesy of Alfred. The pool lights were on, and a surreal soft blue glow lit up the water.

It matched Jason’s eyes.

But that wasn’t all. Long fingers tilted my chin up, and a gasp reverberated the air as my eyes met the mystical view. Stars glittered the midnight canvas endlessly, and in the center of it all sat the full moon like a queen.

She was regal tonight.

My mouth was slightly open in awe, and Jason’s fingers on my chin softly closed it as he chuckled.

“I’m guessing you like the view?”

“Like it? I might as well marry it!” I exclaimed, eyes wide with glee as I gripped his shoulders.

“Dick used to bring his, ahem, lady companions to charm them back when I was Robin. I’d always barge in and interrupt to interrogate about the last woman I saw with him,” he laughed while recalling the memory.

“Did it work?” I smiled back and stood closer to him, the fronts of our bodies slightly touching. My hands had come down to rest on his chest now, and while my eyes were up roaming the sky, my soul’s attention was solely on him.

He shuffled with something in his suit pocket. “Did what work?”

“Dick’s method of charming the ladies?”

“Judging by the walks of shame Alfred and I had to witness every morning after each Wayne gala, yes. It very much did.”

I felt Jason put something in my ear, and finally looked down from the stars to his eyes in confusion. It was an airpod, and I watched silently as he put the other one in his ear.

“I promise I’m not a creep or anything, but I stalked your Spotify playlists and found one titled ‘dancing under the stars’.” He confessed. In a very un-Jason like manner, he looked almost sheepish.

He didn’t look at me as he pressed play and pocketed his phone. Almost immediately ‘Dancing with our hands tied�� by Taylor Swift came on, and he took my hand in his.

Tingles shot up the pit of my stomach as his free arm wrapped around my waist, fingers resting on my hip. We swayed in beat to the music in our ears, eyes on eyes.

I, I loved you in secret First sight, yeah, we love without reason Oh, twenty-five years old Oh, how were you to know,

The lords, and anyone who knew me actually, knew how big of a swiftie I was. The fact that he had put in the effort to pick the absolute perfect song to dance to had to be the most romantic thing that ever happened to me.

I was completely mesmerized. Guys like this only existed in the encasement of my stash of romance novels; but time and time Jason Todd had proved that idea wrong. Every one of his gestures, one after the other, seemed to catch me off guard more than the previous one.

“Wanted to do this since I was 17,” I breathed the fresh air in, craning my neck to rest my chin on his shoulder. This right here was all I needed to relax. This was my very own customized form of peace.

“Yeah, Tim let it slip when he got drunk on your birthday and started blabbing about how you’re growing up in front of his eyes,” he laughed and pulled back to twirl me.

I crashed back into his chest softly, grinning at his revelation.

“It’s so hard to believe you guys are best friends, that Timmy’s actually capable of having normal human conversations other than his usual nerdy blabber,” Jason continued, pulling me even closer to him while dancing.

No objections were made from my side as I obliged (obviously), staring up at his eyes.

They were like an oceanic maze, too easy to get lost in. Too dangerous to get lost in.

“He’s a good friend. Awfully robot-like at times though, and he always smells of coffee.” I breathed with a chuckle as the air around us got intense.

The gold of the fairy lights hit his eyes, making them shine brighter than the stars above I let my hands grip the hairs on his neck, watching carefully as he took a sharp breath in response.  

If there was something Jason and my relationship, whatever that it was, didn’t lack, it was moments like these. Moments where we had a conversation with our eyes, expressing how much we wanted to kiss each other, how much we wanted to stay frozen in the present and relish in the feel of our undeniable chemistry.

It had been going on for way too long, and even Tim was getting tired of us not taking the leap of faith.

Initially he was pretty against it, but when he saw exactly how much I felt for his brother, his blessings for us suddenly started pouring in.

“Uhuh,” Jason hummed. An electric sensation buzzed the air around us as the chorus hit, and all the space between our bodies vanished. Butterflies went haywire in the places of my body he touched. He was everywhere.

But we were dancing Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied Yeah, we were dancing Like it was the first time, first time

“Stop me if you don’t want it,” he harshly whispered, brows furrowed and eyes clouded with desire as he tucked a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

“I do,” I whispered in response, knowing exactly what he meant.

His breath hit my lips, forehead fell against mine in a moment of desire and the next thing I knew, he was kissing me.

It was needy and rushed and a thousand other adjectives, but it was my most perfect kiss. It would always be my most perfect kiss.

Jason’s muscular arms encircled my waist as he pressed me up against him, gripping my sides and lifting me to stand on his feet. My own arms wrapped around his neck, and a sneaky stutter of a moan escaped my lips, earning me a groan from him.

Passion burned us under the cool night air as we kissed and kissed and kissed, all thoughts of oxygen forgotten in our haze of need.

But even our passion couldn’t defy nature. We pulled back to breathe in as much air as we could, but instead of diving back in towards each other’s lips like I expected us to, Jason simply stared at me with eyes that now looked navy from being hooded.

It was a stare of a few seconds that seemed like hours as his thumbs brushed the side of my face. The fire of need from a while back was gone, but the desire wasn’t.

We both tried to calm ourselves, but an unstoppable part of me leaned up to press a kiss on his cheek. He blushed.

“Wanted to do that since you were 17,” he said cheekily, hands tracing my back as we now let ‘Wonderland’ by Taylor amuse our ears.

“Liar,” I grinned. “You couldn’t even look at me back then.”

“Yeah, because I’d do this if I looked at you for more than 5 seconds. I had no plans of going to jail for getting handsy with a minor,” he replied, leading us to the wooden benches Bruce had installed in the garden a few weeks earlier.

I lifted a teasing brow, masking my shock at the fact that he wanted to kiss me even back then.

“And how’re you so sure I would’ve let you get handsy with me? For all you know I could have kicked you in the balls myself.”

“Don’t act coy, you could never stop staring at me when you were over,” he smirked, sitting down on the bench and pulling me to his lap.

I hesitated for a second, my brain getting lost in the fact that after months of banters and unbelievable tension, interruptions and two sided pining, I was finally in this position. Where we were able to be open about our want for each other.

Sensing my hesitation, his smirk dropped. “This is okay right?”

I snapped back to reality, taking his nervous expression in. Yes, this was real. And I wouldn’t waste a second of the time God gave me with Jason. I smirked and ran my fingers through his dark locks, making him close his eyes.

“Of course it is, just thinking about how long it took for you to man up and kiss me,”

“Excuse me, you could’ve-”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. He responded almost immediately, putting his hand on my hip as I sat sideways on his lap. Unlike the first one, this kiss was sweet and slow. We were cherishing the night with it.

“About damn time, I thought all my teeth were gonna fall out due to old age before Todd here grew some balls,” the sudden voice of a certain sass filled Wayne interrupted us.

My magical night with Jason ended with him running after his kid brother Damian, teasing him about kicking his ass.

But that was okay, because I was happy. Jason was happy. The long wait for him, for us, was worth it.

Even though he gave off the impression that he couldn’t care less, I knew that the reason he hadn’t made a move was because he wanted Tim to be completely fine with us being a thing.

Alongside being friends with Tim, I became friends with his brothers and Alfred over the years. I knew of their nightlife, and everything that went on behind the polished doors of the Wayne Manor. I knew Jason well enough to know that his tough posterior and damn care attitude was just a facade.

Being with Jason wouldn’t be a walk in the park, and I knew that too. He was reckless and intense, impulsive and careless.

But he was also sweet and passionate, and his love would brand you like a tattoo with it’s depth. I was willing to give my 110% to make it work with him.

Because even fairy tales take sacrifice and effort to get a happy ending. And I’d do about anything to make sure I earned mine.

[infernal-fire]

Easy To Be Loved

Warnings: whole lotta floof, bits of angst

Pairing(s): Steve x Hindu!reader

Summary: Part of your identity has always been notoriously difficult to embrace. Lucky for you, Steve will be there every step of the way on your journey to redefine yourself.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: i’m hindu myself (i practice shaivism specifically) and this fic includes some customs from my own culture. i tried to stay as ambiguous as i could to include as many people as i could.

and i made the moodboard myself! pretty proud of it :) let me know what you guys think :)

You stared at the wedding invitation your friend, Amara, had excitedly pressed into your hands. It had been years since you visited family, let alone a temple. The prospect of going to the temple for a wedding again - well, it was frightening. You would have to deal with the cultural neglect that you have been refusing to acknowledge ever since you began Avenging. 

You didn’t go to the wedding. 

Amara didn’t take it well. The argument that ensued when she showed up to the Tower was messy. Onlookers tried their best to ignore it but the physical cringes and judgmental looks were far from subtle. 

“What did you think not showing up was going to do Y/N? Wash away your culture?” She was a crying mess, but it wasn’t her who should be embarrassed. “You can’t whitewash yourself into a different person.” her voice cracked with frustration before she stormed off. 

It was dramatic for you to not go to the wedding and her outburst was completely justified. You had gotten the saree and even the jewellery you were going to wear. But the morning of, you stared at the outfit laid in front of you and blinked twice before stalking off.

Your family practically disowned you after you joined the Avengers. Being an assassin… it wasn’t a traditionally accepted job, to say the least. Their lack of support had turned you bitter, your angst being redirected at your culture. Slowly, you began shedding the part of your identity that still held you to them. No more music or movies in your language, no more cultural food, and no more praying. 

You were ashamed. You couldn’t have sucked it up and showed up to support your friend? 

Steve had overheard the entire argument. He didn’t even need super-hearing to know what was going down in the lobby. It saddened him to think that you needed to get rid of a part of yourself in order to forget about an unsupportive family. Now, it was coming back to bite you in the ass. 

Tony announced another one of his parties that week. “Dress code is formal and fancy. If I see any of you show up in sweats, I’ll get your room cleaned out,” he threatened. 

The day before the party, Steve showed up to your room. “Just a little something,” he looked sheepish as he handed you a bag. You thanked him and padded to your bed to open it. You looked back to call him, but Steve had bolted after giving you the gift.

The party raved on and you nervously fixed the pleats again. This is a bad idea, everyone is gonna laugh at you. You knocked on your head once, trying to get rid of the thought and made your way downstairs before you could change your mind. 

Walking in, you expected people to shoot you funny looks or whisper to the nearest person. But no one cared. People smiled and continued their conversations, not bothering to make fun of you. The enamoured look that filled partygoers’ eyes was a complete contrast to what you had been telling yourself. Steve’s face lit up from seeing your outfit - a plain black saree and a gold border, paired with an exaggerated statement necklace. Simple, but so elegant. He was surprised you actually wore his gift. 

“Gonna grab pop tarts!” you popped your head into the kitchen. Bucky and Steve were mid-conversation and Clint was arm-wrestling Rhodey. “There are snacks in the cupboard.” Clint strained, still trying to hold off Rhodey. “There’s nothing good there,” you mumbled and walked off. Steve called after you and you paused to let him catch up. “I’ll come with?” he asked. “Sure.” 

Steve got in the car and connected to the Bluetooth while you put in the address for the store. “I made a playlist for you,” Steve mentioned as he hit play. “It has a bunch of popular songs in your language. I shared it with you on Spotify.” 

You turned to look at him, unsure what to say. Even you wouldn’t have gone out of your way to do that for yourself. You learned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’.

You fell in love with Steve. It was unexpected, but how could you not see it coming? The man did everything he could to get you to embrace your culture again. While you were getting back into practising tradition, your culture was still a source of insecurity. Steve would never date a Hindu girl. He was only helping ‘cause you’re his friend. And because you’re slightly pathetic. 

The battle within yourself raged on as you couldn’t make up your mind. Should you make a move... or not!?

The final straw of your resolve was washed away on a fine Friday afternoon.

You walked into the kitchen, sorting through the contents of the fridge when Steve tapped you on the shoulder. 

“I know you don’t eat meat on Friday’s so I made you some vegetarian food.” 

You hadn’t even realized that he noticed. But here he was, showing you that he cared, time after time, again and again. You burst into tears and clutched his shirt while the others in the kitchen tried their best to ignore you for the sake of secondhand embarrassment. 

Steve pulled you into another room. “Hey, hey, love? You okay?” he questioned, trying to wipe your tears for you. “Why are you going out of your way to help me like this?” you sobbed into his chest. 

At last, your dam of emotions caved in - it was time to come clean to him.

Apparently, he had the same idea. “I just don’t want you to ignore such a special part of you. Your culture sets you aside from everyone here, and that’s exactly why you should embrace it. And...” he hesitated, “I love you, Y/N.”

You hugged him as hard as you could and he wrapped his arms around your quivering figure. “I love you too Steve,” you sniffled. 

“So you’ll let me make you vegetarian food every Friday?” he asked,  tilting your chin up with one finger. “Yes, every Friday,” you laughed and nuzzled your head back into his chest. “For the rest of our lives?” he inquired. “For the rest of our lives,” you confirmed, looking up again to meet for a kiss. 

This is for Dani’s 2021 Fic Challenge! @stuckonjbbarnes��

Masterlist

Tag list:  @partiesandblurrypolaroids @hitmewithyourbest-shot @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @bval-1 @quxxnxfhxll​ 

Other tags: @mculibrary​

[13uswntimagines]

Chanukah party (USWNT x Baby!Reader)

This isn’t a request but @literaryhedgehog​ and I thought it would be fun. The basic premise is that reader is at camp during Chanukah, and the team feels bad (especially Lindsey) so they throw her a party. (thank you @notmia101​ for betaing this for us). 

You smiled at Alyssa as she described her winter plans after training camp. How she was going to visit her sister and her family for Christmas. How they were hoping for snow and how they were going to kill an innocent tree and desecrate its body with lights for their amusement. Her words, not yours. It was a game she and the other girls played every year, trying to make their Christmas plans sound as horror-movie-ish as possible. It was a way of trying to make fun of themselves so you could share the amusement and join in laughing at them. 

But despite their efforts, a little piece of you always felt left out because you couldn’t (wouldn’t?) participate. See, you were one of the few who didn’t celebrate Christmas. You were proud of your Jewish heritage, even if your family wasn’t the most ~religious~. But you were proud of the culture you had been raised in. You held its traditions very near to your heart and weren’t AT ALL bitter that the rest of the team had time designated to visit their family during their winter holidays while you still had training camp through the third week of December.  

You were kinda zoning out because you could only take so much of their cookie baking, their stalkerish man that watched kids while they slept, and their hiding of a stupid stuffed toy you were sure would give you nightmares (who the fuck thought having an ‘elf’ stalk your family all month was cute?!?!? Capitalism was a weird man). (Though you may or may not have paid attention to Lindsey’s plan to dress Ferguson like a little elf…) 

“What about you kid?” Tobin asked, nudging you out of your daydream. 

“What?” You shook your head, making everyone around you laugh. 

“Do you have plans for the holidays?” Lindsey repeated, her smile showing off her dimples. 

“Oh, um. Chanukah started a few days ago. It’s cool, they have an app with a menorah and everything. My family has been face timing me most days, but it will be over before training ends.” You shrugged, hoping they couldn’t see how much being away from your family during this time of year sucked (though you were glad to be included on the camp roster). 

Most of the veteran's jaws dropped, how had they not known that you were missing something so important to you? How had US Soccer overlooked a holiday (and inadvertently given you an ultimatum- celebrate or make the national team). 

“Then why did they schedule training camp this week?” Tobin mumbled. Again you shrugged. 

“There’s 23 of you and only one of me… it’s really not that big of a deal,” you smiled briefly and gave the same speech you had given since middle school, “It’s not like the ‘Jewish Christmas’ even though it happens around the same time some years, my family doesn’t even exchange presents, so I’m really just missing the party they’re throwing on the 18th.” 

“That still isn’t fair though. I mean, we get Christmas off automatically, even if we don’t celebrate it!” Christen huffed, throwing her hands up. 

“I mean, this isn’t like a new thing. We’re always at camp during this time. And next year the holiday starts in November, so it’s not something that can consistently be scheduled around. I guess it’s just a sacrifice I have to make to be the best right?” You said earnestly, shaking your head. You knew all of the arguments, you had heard them for all of your life. 

“But-“ Emily started to protest, but before she could get the words out you cut her off. “Don’t make a big deal guys, it’s fine. Really,” 

The team stared at you for a few seconds, several women opening and closing their mouths several times. You shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, breathing a sigh of relief when your phone rang, glad to have an excuse to get out of this situation. 

“Ok so we’re totally going to make a big deal out of this,” Lindsey said turning back around to face the team the second you were out the door. 

“I’m guessing you have a plan to woo your girl?” Emily smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not to. No. We are doing this as a team to be supportive of our teammate who is part of a traditionally marginalized culture that we need to be more supportive of,” Lindsey grumbled sternly, smiling when Christen nodded in return. “I’m googling “Chanukah for Dummies” right now. 

They were going to make this camp different from the others (and if she got to impress you that was just a bonus). 

…..

“Umm, why does it smell like something is burning?” Becky asked, walking through the hotel corridor towards the dining room. 

“Because Latkes are apparently more difficult to make than I expected,” Kelley said, tossing what looked like a stack of burned hockey pucks into the trash. “I didn’t realize the whole room was going to smell like fried food- do you think they’re going to fine me when we check out?”

“If they fine you, they better fine Em too. The stench from such a little jar is kind of amazing,” Lindsey huffed. 

“What did she do, get her sardines or something?” Becky asked, shaking her head, remembering the smell that she couldn’t quite place. 

“No. Something called ‘Gefilte fish’”. 

“But isn’t that usually for Passover?” Kelley asked, looking up from where she was trying to scrape burned potatoes off her pan.

“They said it was traditional, isn’t that what we’re going for?” Emily huffed, pouting. Lindsey rolled her eyes at her best friend. 

“I’ve got music!” Chrystal called, walking through the door in a star-patterned sweater. “It turns out there are not a whole lot of Chanukah songs. There’s a Spotify playlist that’s only 3 hours long, or so, so I supplemented it with a lot of Leonard Cohen and Paul Simon.”

“And I brought the sour cream and applesauce as requested!” Sam called, walking in after her, “also some apple juice and honey bourbon. I know apples and honey are a thing for Rosh Hashana, so I thought maybe we could make some cocktails?”

“I won’t tell coach if you don’t,” Kelley said taking the bottle and pouring herself a shot. “Someone else needs to take over the latke making. My attempts have all either looked like lefse, hashbrowns or just burned.”

“Lefse?”

“I had an ex-girlfriend from Minnesota. It was a potato tortilla thing her family sent her at thanksgiving. The point here is that someone else needs to cook or we are just going to be eating sour cream and applesauce on their own.”

“We could make french fries?” Rose suggested tentatively. 

“With bacon and cheese! Those are the best,” Emily exclaimed, only to have Lindsey (gently) slap the back of her head. 

“No, Sonnett. She can’t have bacon and I don’t think she’s allowed to have cheese and meat on the same plate…” 

“I think if we just batter potato pieces in egg and flour and fry them it would taste nice with the apple sauce and sour cream. And we’ve made french fries before so it won’t be so much of a… learning curve. Though you did a great try, Kelley!” Rose said, patting Kelley’s arm.

“You guys are useless. Did you even look at a recipe?” Megan shook her head. 

“If you think it’s so easy you try it.” Kelley scoffed. Megan raised her eyebrow at the woman, stealing the spatula from the defender's hand. 

“Tasty made here we come,” 

*****

“Happy Chanukah!” came from all around as you walked in. Lindsey was very proud. Not only had she gotten the team on track and ensured that they had all of the stuff google said would make the perfect Chanukah celebration; she had also kept you off their trail until this moment. The shock on your face made all the work on their day off entirely worth it. 

The room was decorated in tinsel with a shiny plastic menorah in the center of the table. Several people were wearing ugly sweaters with different “decorations” taped on. A sign on the back wall said “We survived, let’s eat!” Lindsey had decided against hanging up the posters Rose and Mal made saying “Stick it to the (ro)Man!” and “MaccaBEe mine.” The first one because she wasn’t sure it was appropriate, the second one because she knew it wasn’t.

“Ooo who brought the hotdog of the sea?” You asked, biting your lip to suppress a giggle as you walked over to the table to see the food on display. 

“What?” Lindsey’s eyes tried to follow yours, utterly confused. They didn’t get hotdogs. They most certainly weren’t on the list that Chanukah for dummies had given her. 

You smiled softly and shook your head, pointing to the tan balls that Emily had provided. 

“That’s what my siblings and I call it during Passover. Gefilte fish is kinda a love it or hate it thing…” you trailed off, scrunching your nose just slightly. 

“And you’re not a fan?” Lindsey smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“Umm, I plead the fifth,” You mumbled, shaking your head slightly. It wasn’t your favorite item in the world. 

“That was all Emily,” Kelley snorted, clapping you on the back, and you grinned devilishly back at her. 

“Well, it was very nice of her to be so thoughtful. She can try a piece with me,” 

Emily cringed at the idea, but nodded nonetheless. It was your party and if eating the smelly thing out of a jar made you happy, then that’s exactly what she would do. (She also stealthily shot Lindsey the middle finger while you were surveying the rest of the items on the tables). 

“Honestly the sufganiyot is my favorite,” you said, taking a step towards the platter, your lips ticking up at Lindsey’s adorable confused face. “sorry, the donuts,” you clarified, picking up one of the many powdered sugar-covered donuts in the stack, inspecting it to see what kind it was. The Jelly ones were particularly important for the celebration. 

Lindsey blushed a little. “We didn’t know if you wanted jelly or custard,” She said hesitantly, watching as your eyes got impossibly brighter. 

“Both are amazing, thank you,” You smiled softly at the midfielder, brushing a stay bit of powdered sugar off her pink cheeks. You held her gaze for a moment before seeming realizing you had an audience, and turning towards the rest of the team. “thank all of you,” 

It wasn’t the traditional Chanukah you usually shared with your family, but the friends who had become your family made it special nonetheless.

[erensonly]

Cuddle Buddies (Bakugou x Black! Reader)

[series masterlist], [previous chapter], [next chapter]

Chapter 13: Mall Time

(song of the chapter)

(this is a slight filler bc i have no clue what to write about and i'm working on another one rn)

Today was the day Aizawa finally gave everyone permission to go and do what they wanted. The whole class decided to go to the mall in the group chat you all were in.

"Kacchan! Are you ready yet?"

"Stop calling me Kacchan. Give me a second." He was lacing up his shoes (no more church3000s)

Stepping into his room, you see him fixing the cuffs of his pants and walking to the mirror to make sure the fit was clean. He looked good, per usual. (my fashion sense is horrible, especially for boys so imagine what you want him to wear.)

"You look nice, Kacchan," you smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Reaching up, you peck his lips lightly. "You ready to go now? Everyone is getting ready to be on their way."

"Yeah, let's go." He grabbed your hand, walking with you down the stairs. "You know what you wanna get?" he asked you.

"Of course not. I was thinking you could pick my outfits for me."

"Then you have to pick mine." You had a pretty good understanding of his style and how he picks his clothes. Picking his clothes should be pretty easy. The question was, 'Was he able to pick your clothes?'

(start song)

Walking outside to the parking lot, he opened and closed the door of his car for you and got in himself. You hear a knock on the window and you see Kiri and Denki standing there, smiling. "Hey, y'all!" you exclaim. Doing the made-up handshake the three of you made, they started greeting you and Katsuki.

Plugging your phone into his aux cord, you open spotify. Clicking 'OhMami' by Chase Atlantic, you teasingly start to sing to Katsuki.

Cuban link, diamond cross I got a spanish chiquita, no habla ingles, not at all, no

Katsuki by now had started driving, and he was already tired of the three of you. The condiments in the back and started to sing along as well.

And I got a kilo, no kilimanjaro, baby just a mountain of coke

Looking back aft the two boys in the backseat, nodding at them to make sure they got the message.

OHMAMI, THIS A NEW 'RARI

The three of you screamed the lyrics of the song playing. Katsuki was slowly shaking his head at the three of you, slightly grinning.

"C'mon Katsu,"you whined playfully, "Sing with us. I know you know the song."

"Yeah, Kacchan. Sing along,"said Denki.

"Tch..."

OHMAMI, I GOT BLUE MOLLY

The four of you sang loudly. Katsuki started to drive a little faster now, making you, Kiri, and Kami hold onto the little handle thingies on the roof of the car.

You all started giggling and laughing at how Denki got thrown at Kirishima when Bakugou did a sharp turn. Turning around you ask him, "Y'all okay back there?"

"Yeah," Kirishima said, fake crying. "Kinda hurt."

"Shut up, shitty hair. It didn't hurt that bad. Aren't you supposed to be a rock?"

"Damn, Bakugou. Why you going so hard on him," Denki laughed.

"Because I can. You next."

Slapping his arm, you tell him to stop messing with them.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Pulling up to the mall, you see everyone else outside, more than likely waiting for you four. "Hey bestie," you greet Midoriya.

"Hey friend." You turn and see Todoroki next to him. The two of you didn't speak much but when you did, it was usually either a dry 'Hi' or him saying something that he doesn't realize is funny.

"Hey friend," Todoroki said as enthusiastically as he could. You chuckled a little bit. This was new. He usually just said your name, but not today.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Of course not. You just surprised me. Hey Friend," you smiled at him.

"Baby, let's go. I wanna get your clothes." Entwining your hand with your significant other, you wave bye to the two friends and let yourself get dragged off.

Walking to (favorite store), you let him walk you to the shirts. "You want a crop top, tank top, cut off shoulder, regular tee-shirt, or what?"

"I don't know. You're supposed to be picking it out for me."

"You're no help," he grumbled.

"I know," you smiled. Walking away from him towards the accessories, you hold up earrings and necklaces to see which ones you wanted.

"Baby, I'm done. Don't pick the accessories for this outfit, I wanna do it."

You see him hold up accessories to the clothing to see which ones you would match.

"I'm paying, no arguments allowed."

"I wasn't gon argue anyway," you sassed back. "My turn. What store do you like?" Walking to (his favorite store idfk🤷🏾‍♀️), you immediately see a shirt that would look amazing on him.

"Don't look, nosey." He looked away, surprised you caught him trying to peek without looking at him. "Go look around and find something you like. I'm paying."

Walking around begrudgingly, he looks at the other shirts they have, some catching his eye and some making him question who made it.

When he looks up a second time, he sees you already at the counter. "Did you find something you like?"

"Yeah, I'm paying for it."

"No, I'm paying for it. We already agreed."

"No, I don't wanna owe you nothing."

"I don't care what you don't want. I'm paying. Hurry up, we still gotta get shoes."

Hesitantly putting his stuff on the counter, you pay for the things and drag him to the foot locker that wasn't too far from the store you were just at.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

By now, you both had picked everything and bought matching shoes. You were now in the food court trying to decide what to eat so you could meet with everyone else.

"Kacchan, I want pizza," you groan.

"Then get it. I don't want pizza."

"But I want you to order it for me."

"No."

"Fine, I'll get Midoriya to do it for me." Walking away from him to your best friend, you pay him on the shoulder and ask him can he order for you. (social anxiety go brr)

Making your way back to the table, you sit in between Midoriya and Katsuki. Todoroki was next to Midoriya making small talk with him.

You start to eat, but you feel someone staring at you. Looking up and around, you try to spot who can't keep their eyes in one direction. Then you see it. A girl with dark hair and eyes and is fairly curvy, not as curvy as you but you get it.

You see her gaze shift to Bakugou. The you got the message. You scoot closer to him, trying to politely give her the message he wasn't available. She just wasn't getting it.

Then she decided to get bold and start to walk towards the table everyone had pushed together. "Hey, I'm Meiko." She tried to scoot bin to sit next to Bakugou, but you were quick to scoot closer to him.

At this point he had no space to move his arms and he was confused why this random was talking to him. "Me?" he questioned, pointing to himself.

"Yeah, who else would I be talking to. No one else here is on your level."

"Ok... You need something?" He was just trying to eat and go back to his dorm with you to re-watch Haikyuu. (kenma is so fine man 😡😭)

"Yeah, your number." Who does this dry flirting ass girl think she is.

"He's not available."

"I didn't ask for you opinion," she rolled her eyes and turned back to Bakugou.

"But you're talking to my man. So Imma give to you politely before I have to beat your ass, Kay?"

"Why are you dating someone like... that when you could have me?" That's more than enough.

"I don't know or like you." He's trying to keep his composure since he's been working on his temper.

Standing up, you feel someone grab your wrist and someone else grab your hand. "I'll say it one more time if it didn't register in that small ass head of yours. He's not available, especially not to you. If I have to say it again, I'll be going to jail. Got it?"

She tried not to show she was intimidated by walking closer to you, getting in your personal bubble.

"Then do something about it." She threw, or tried to throw, a punch at you, but it didn't connect. Now you could say it was self defense (be smart kids👩🏾‍💻)

There was no time to waste. Connecting a punch with her face, you drag her on the floor to get the advantage, even though you already had it.

You didn't stop. Your brain had went into autopilot and your body just did what it wanted to do.

The next thing you know, there's people trying to pull you off. Multiple people. You couldn't hear anything, ears ringing from the anger you were feeling.

"Baby, let's go." He had finally grabbed you off, dragging you away from her. "Deku, grab our food and bring it back will ya."

There was still anger in your system, but you just let him carry you back to the car. Denki and Kirishima already arranging for them to ride with someone else.

"You ok?"

"Mhm." You turned your head and looked out the window as he was pulling out of the parking lot.

He grabbed your hand and stayed silent. You both were similar in the aspect of not wanting to talk when angry.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Arriving back to the dorms, you see Aizawa already sitting on the couch waiting for you. How does this man get information so fast?

"I heard what happened."

"It was self defense." You weren't even going to put up a big fight against him. You had a better chance arguing with a raccoon than with Aizawa.

"I don't care. You still did that in public. You're lucky people didn't take pictures and videos."

"Ok..." you said, waiting for him to get to the point.

"You're on cleaning duty by yourself for three days and you have to do extra training."

"So I we just supposed to let her hit me and flirt with my boyfriend in front of me?"

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"At this point, I don't care." Stalking off to your room, you sulk on your bed. Feeling Katsuki plop down on your bed, he pulls up netflix, playing Haikyuu.

"C'mere sweet thing." You both cuddled up, excited to rewatch the volleyball anime for the 3rd time.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

and that is a wrap. i haven't updated in forever don't bash me too much. i hope you enjoyed it and these outfits i envisioned bakugou picked out for you 🖤 (I chose different styles bc i know ppl have different tastes :))

[fukurodaze]

Ahhh I saw your new year match up things so you can write a scenario if you feel like it but there's no pressure

My favourite place in the world considering j don't travel much is probably Edinburgh cause its close and they have lots of castles

1) I cried cause I remembered a fictional character (Mondo Owada) wasn't real.

2) I like making playlists about characters, specific things or for people

3) I have daddy and mommy issues, I got the whole package

I love your work

thank you for sending this in!

your new year’s kiss will be...

goofy... loves to poke fun at your characters for like no reason but it’s always in good nature (he listens to your playlists and stalks your spoty/apple music/soundcloud all the time trust me)

daddy and mommy issue joke dispenser... ouch... it’s funny like 80% of the time LMAO

so ready to go to castles he secretly thinks they’re cool

crushing on you so hard that it’s kind of funny

futakuchi kenji!

“so, do you, uh, go here often?”

you laugh at his nervous question, having ran into him at your nearest convenience store on the morning of january first.

“my house is actually a few blocks from here,” you point behind you, as if he knew where your house was (he actually did know, since you live near him because he’s seen you walk the same route home countless times, not that that’s creepy or anything, but just something he noticed, though he didn’t expect you at this convenience store at this hour, also-)

“oh, cool,” he shoves his hands into his coat pockets, “i just did my new year’s fortune at the shrine nearby.”

your eyes perk up at his detail, “what fortune did you get?”

“uh, extra bad luck, apparently,” he hands his paper to you and it makes you snicker a little. he smiles in relief.

the air between you and him is awkward, but you don’t exactly hate it. after all, he’s the volleyball club’s captain, very in shape, and definitely a face you don’t mind seeing everyday.

you speak up, “i bought some bread. do you want some?”

the hand that’s holding your phone reaches into the bag and grabs one chocolate bun to give to him. futakuchi spends approximately zero seconds debating whether or not he should take the food from you, and he grabs it so quickly that it’s sure to make him cringe afterwards.

as he had pulled the bun so eagerly, the wrapping had touched on your phone screen, showing the song that’s currently playing in your earphones. his mouth makes an ‘o’ shape.

“did you make a new character playlist?”

your head tilts to the side.

“i mean- you make playlists for characters?”

you chuckle at his drawback, “i’m guessing you follow my spotify?”

futakuchi nods, and it’s the slowest nod you’ve ever seen. you want to laugh, you really do, but there’s a pleasant feeling in your chest when his face reddens.

but he’s lucky - very, very lucky - for your unmistakeable crush on him was definitely something he could get by.

matchups are closed! thank you for participating!

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Eiji and Ankh, M (Ever Ever After by Carrie Underwood)

M is for music, and “Ever Ever After,” by Carrie Underwood, is a blast from the past for me and can be found on YouTube. (That version isn’t on Spotify, but if you want to listen to the song there, they do have a version by Jordan Pruitt.) After you read this, it may be worthwhile to go back and read this previous prompt.

Ankh is not, for the most part, familiar with the stories that humans tell each other for comfort. He couldn't care less about human comfort, honestly. But he does know one thing: fairy tale monsters don't get happy endings. If they're lucky they get to eat whatever sickening ingenue is the supposed hero of the story. Some run with their tails between their legs. Mostly, though, they die, killed by knights and heroes and the stupid sons of farmers.

He doesn't bother with the tales, but he's seen some of the art made to go with them. He knows what he is in this story. Consigned once more to a dull and colorless world in which Hino Eiji is the one inexplicable spot of color is probably the best ending he could have hoped for.

Even so, it’s getting harder to focus.

Initially, in the first few years after his...death, his loss, his shattering, he remains aware at all times. During the day he floats behind Eiji, silent and unseen, disgusted by the grayness of the world after a year of light and color. At night, he stands a useless guard, hovering over the one and only object of his desires as if he would be able to do anything to help should danger come. He sees adventures, triumphs, failures, so much gained and so much loss, many and many another hero coming and going and none of them ever as good.

And once, a single, glorious hour of new life, and the feeling of Eiji’s hand in his again.

It’s after that, really, that he finds things becoming difficult. Being able to manifest physically once more had been a gift, but it took so much energy. He continues to follow Eiji, because what else can he do? What else is there for him? But as time stretches on, he finds himself--blacking out, he supposes he might say, the way he sometimes sees Eiji grow tired and succumb to ever-longer blinks before finally falling asleep. At first the black-outs last for minutes, then hours, then days, eventually stretching out to weeks, or maybe months, or maybe longer. He’s only vaguely aware of the passage of time as it is.

And then, after the longest one yet--he wakes up. And he’s cold.

That’s what gets his attention first, that he’s cold, that he feels cold. It’s all he can think about for a minute or two, and then he shifts slightly and realizes that he has multiple limbs, that his hair is in his eyes, that he is stark naked except for a red silk he’d almost forgotten he once had and he seems to be sitting on the floor in someone’s living room.

The first thing Ankh says, having been resurrected, is, “What the fuck just happened?”

“Ankh?”

His head whips around. “Eiji? You, I, you’d better not be dead, I swear to fucking--what’s wrong, you’re extremely pale, what’s happened.”

Eiji grins at him, looking dizzy and, yes, pale, and raises his hand despite the quiet scolding of the old man currently wrapping it in bandages. “Well, it took kind of. A lot of blood.” An unsteady shift forward. “Actually, I think I need to take a nap.”

And he passes out, leaving Ankh to turn to the next person he sees--an elderly woman who’s looking very pleased with herself--and saying, “Ok, what the fucking hell just happened here, and what did you do to Eiji?”

--

Eiji regains consciousness to the sound of Ankh and Dr. Zhakiyanova arguing loudly in German, and Dr. Zhakiyanova‘s husband Dr. Caspari saying, in French, “Here, young man, sit up, you fainted, you need to eat something.”

This is easier said than done, but he does manage to struggle upright after a moment. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until you’ve eaten, young man. Here, there’s tea, and you should eat at least two cookies, it’ll take a bit to get your strength back up.”

Eiji considers pointing out that he’s hardly a young man, he’s nearly fifty, but then he takes a bite of the cookie Dr. Caspari hands him and decides that it really doesn’t matter.

For a few minutes he just sits there, drinking amazingly good tea and eating what might be the best cookies he’s ever had in his life and watching in joyful disbelief as Ankh continues to yell in German. Dr. Zhakiyanova stands there patiently, waiting until there’s a gap in his tirade, and then says, very clearly even to Eiji’s mostly-incomprehending ear, “Young man, perhaps you should put some clothes on.”

Ankh sputters out something about being older than her and then sits down heavily on the couch next to Eiji with his red silk wrapped around him like a robe of state. “Where the hell am I?”

Eiji swallows his mouthful of tea and says, “Northern Kazakhstan. Cookie?”

More outraged sputtering. “You gave your blood to some witch just to bring me back?”

“Hey, Dr. Zhakiyanova’s not just a witch, she has a PhD. She’s a highly respected academic.”

“Eiji. How much blood did it take?”

“About five hundred milliliters,” Dr. Caspari says cheerfully, pouring a cup of tea for Ankh. “No more than the average blood donation. As long as you eat well and take in plenty of fluids you’ll be fine.”

“He says--”

“I know French, Eiji, I know most human languages, I understood what he said perfectly well.“ Ankh takes a sip of tea, blinks several times, shudders, and then looks up at Dr. Caspari and says, in perfect French, “I haven’t eaten or drunk anything in an extremely long time.”

Dr. Caspari just says, drily, “We had gathered that, yes.”

Dr. Zhakiyanova, meanwhile, is puttering around on the other side of the living room, checking on her instruments and cleaning up the circle she’d drawn on the floor and making notes. She looks enormously pleased with herself, and after a moment says something in Kazakh to her husband, who translates: “My wife says, thank your priest friend, his notes regarding the nature of the soul were very helpful.”

Eiji nods. “I’ll let Takeru know, he’ll be very happy.”

“Good, good. I’ll go get your friend some clothes, we have some of our grandson’s old things that might fit.”

Dr. Caspari bustles off. Ankh fumes into his teacup for a moment before saying, “Takeru? Is that the dead man?”

“Well, he’s not dead anymore, but he was dead. And yeah.” Eiji eats another cookie, probably too fast. “He gave me some helpful information, and Haruto--Wizard--got me some details about the stone that the Core Medals are made of, and Kouta let me have a bottle of sap from Helheim in exchange for some plant cuttings? It’s an amazing adhesive. And I paid Kougami about fifty thousand yen for a hundred Cell Medals, because I wasn’t about to agree to do him any favors.” More tea. “Dr. Zhakiyanova’s the one who figured out how to put it all together, though, she’s been working on it for seven years now.”

Ankh nods slowly and says, “I met Kouta too, didn’t I. He’s the...god.”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

Dr. Caspari comes back with an armful of clothes that he hands to Ankh. “You get dressed, young man.” A long pause to speak to his wife in Kazakh again, and then, “My wife says, your friend is very lucky, he’s like a rat.”

Ankh freezes in the middle of pulling on a t-shirt, nostrils flaring. “Excuse me.”

“No, no!” Dr. Caspari beams at him. “A rat’s a good animal. Resourceful. Rats grow to the size of their enclosures. When you were first created, you were a rat in a small cage. You were constricted. But a human body is no small cage. You should thank the human who once lent you his, it gave you room to grow. She wouldn’t have been able to do this if you hadn’t already grown from what you originally were.” Another comment from Dr. Zhakiyanova. “She also says, please excuse her for not addressing you directly, she’s had a long day and it’s easier for her to think in Kazakh right now.“

“Oh, of course, that’s completely understandable.” Eiji grins at him. “I appreciate her assistance.”

“She’s going to write a paper.” Dr. Caspari looks delighted. “I look forward to proofreading it for her.”

--

After Eiji’s lunatic alchemist friends give them more cookies, and dinner, and another armload of old clothes that are far too big for Ankh, they’re finally allowed to go home. Or not home, they’re still far from home, but to the hotel in which Eiji is staying because after all this time his back hurts too much to sleep rough.

As soon as the door is locked behind them, Ankh strips off the too-large clothes and stares at himself in the full-length mirror. He is whole again, and more than whole. No longer a parasite on a human body, but a creature in and of himself, and alive. He has blood, he has breath, he can taste and smell and feel and the world is full of colors.

He turns slightly, and a flash of light catches his eye. He leans in closer to inspect it, and sees--a crack, zig-zagging crazily down the center of his in a whisper-thin gleam of gold. Shattered no longer, but he will never again be the creature he was before he was broken.

He’s something new now.

He turns and stalks over to where Eiji is sitting on the bed, knocks him backwards, sits on top of him, and looks for the gleam of gold in his reflection in Eiji’s eyes. And Eiji looks up at him and is real, real, real, and he is, truly, the only object of Ankh’s desires.

Once, the world would not have been enough.

Perhaps he is no longer a fairy tale monster.

Ankh says, slowly, “Eiji, smile for me.”