#Hello friend it's been so long *squishes biceps*

[siriusmydeer]

george weasley smut alphabet

george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: at this point i don’t even know what to write, seggsy things

a/n: that took 3 days holy shit

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

ok molly taught him to be respectful alright, always treat your lady well. kisses, showering, praise, love, affection, cuddles. the whole nine yards, not one step left behind.

“c’mon, dove, y’gotta get up. please, f’me?” the boy slightly-slurred, pulling up your hair slightly damp from sweat, grasping it all into double french braids. showering you, meanwhile showing you immense praise and affection; kissing from your ankle points all the way to the apple of your cheeks, and dressing you in the process.

“mhmm, don’t wanna.” you proceeded to mumble, your body begging you to sleep and rest; feeling immense of exhaustion from previous rounds. finishing the braid in your hair, the red head picked you up and placed you onto the red-plaid comforter of the bed.

your body starting to meld with the mattress, and breathing becoming heavier almost delving your subconscious into the realm of sleep; feeling him slip under you and place your head right on his bare skin, feeling the bone of his sternum.

“did i... did i do well?” you murmured through fatigue, yearning to feel the warmth and affection of your boyfriend while his heart beat lulled you like a baby from a lullaby to a deep hearted sleep.

“you’ll always do perfect for me, forever ‘n ever.”

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

ok so, he loves his hands. they’re big, and skinny, and his fingers are long. i mean he catches you looking at them all the time so it also happens to be a nice ego boost. george’s self esteem has kinda always been there but it hasn’t been amazing, but when you came in the picture then it was like 📈

“george, georgie, please. s’too much, too much.” your vision had been immensely bleary for the last few minutes due to pleasureful tears dripping from your waterline. your fingers tried to find the closest thing they could grapple at, george’s hands.

after three continuous rounds, george had been finger fucking you for the last thirty minutes pushing you to vast overstimulation. you had the feeling of pins and needles dance upon your cunt; the waves of pain and pleasure mixing into your nervous system and sprawling throughout your entire body.

you grasped ahold of his ivory-toned hand, trying to beg for his mercy; yet none was shown, this was your punishment. he reclined his hand that had a tense hand on your thigh, now directly on your abdomen pressing you back onto the messy comforter bed keeping his hand placed there.

seeing the arch of your spine in his direct view, seeing your face slightly contort in delectation as he hit the g-spot with the pads of his fingers. feeling the intense pride on how he could get you, so delighted and filled with pleasure at his decree.

“taking it like such a good girl, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

he likes tits, i mean... HE GIVES THE VIBE. like if he could he would hold them, squish them, kiss them, mark them in anyway he wanted FOREVER. which he would, but he couldn’t 24/7 so he took his opportunities when he could.

“hello george, how are you? i’m great, thanks for asking.” you chortled with intense sarcasm after your boyfriends sudden disruption from your reading and dramatically bursting into your dormitory and shoving his face into your chest beneath your his t-shirt.

“shhh, i need a minute of peace please.” he hushed you, feeling his lips suck a little on the flesh of your sternum, his voice incredibly muttered from the smothering of your boobs onto his mouth. feeling the vibrations from his lips send a mini-shockwave through your spine and attempting to repress an overdue shiver.

he left light kisses, from his previous red splotch, as he moved more underneath your shirt praising your skin as you chuckled a bit. his ginger hair tickled your neck as he continued, “my tits are peaceful?” you questioned, yet again in a sarcastic tone awaiting his response.

“yea, immensely.”

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person) (isa i could kiss u for this one)

so, messy messy man. on your tits, on your thighs, on your face, on your STOMACH, on your ass and his fave.... inside of you <3 he just loves to see it on you, it turns him on again no matter how many times you’ve been at it.

que: birth control potions, because i’m pretending they exist and creampies are fun.

“gonna— gonna finish, where d’you want me?” the boy heaved while doing continuous thrusts deep into the walls of your cunt. furthering your grasp onto the clenched biceps and forearms that laid tense beside your perspired face.

“inside me, please. want it inside me.” your voice was winded and huffed, feeling the euphoric pleasure crinkle and bend onto your nervous system from your orgasam lull you into a relaxation, while your boyfriend continued to thrust into your overused cunt of the night.

feeling his tepid release stick into the planes of your thighs and a light sheen layer onto the lower abdomen of your torso. feeling the dripping of his cum directly laid upon your skin. the contrast between his release and your flesh looking almost exquisite in his view point.

you were so beautiful, so beautifully messy.

currently clenched around his prick you felt the tremble in his cock as he released into the velvet walls of your cunt, remaining inside of you as he caught his breath between his lungs from his swift thrusts.

“gonna keep you all full, yeah?”

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

george is in fact, a switch. like when he’s dom, he’s soft dom. but when he’s sub, he’s whiny and extremely forward in begging. it took him awhile to tell you because he felt embarrassed but after that you guys had a lot of... fun ;)

“please, please, ‘m sorry. i promise!” he griped, pulling on the silk on his restraints regulating the control of his wrists that laid on his lower back. “but georgie, isn’t this what you wanted? to be punished?” you sent a faux pout in his direction, your finger tips dancing upon his clenched torso once again edging the boy upon his ration.

“but, but—“ the boy faltered whilst speaking, trying to excuse his actions of venturing to grasp your attention whilst you were busy with another task, and disregarding you both friends pleas. “c’mon, georgie. you were bad, this is your punishment; if i hear anymore you won’t cum for a week.” you chastised, seeing his eyes widen in fright and obnoxiously nod his head in compliance.

your brought your hand back to his prick, thumb slightly outlining the slit in his tip; his most sensitive spot causing a small groan to escape his lips subconsciously, his back slightly melding off of the mattress and arching into the air at your pressure.

attempting to repress his pleasureful shivers that were scratching at his sensorium, his cock basically at your dictation for his release.

“you’re being punished, not pleasured.” you chastised once again, sprawling you hand on his abdomen pushing his back directly onto the ridged comforter once more.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

so people would agree to disagree, but george lost it first. i don’t think george would do one night stands, they were always with past girlfriends but you are the girl he truly put his all into.

“and you’re sure?” the boys frantically questioned once more, he had been previously skittish about if the both of you were ready to go into the next stage of your relationship; wanting your full consent to continue with anything.

and worrying that some kinks he had in mind might’ve been to much for future references, and just yearning for you to feel as comfortable as possible.

“told you, georgie, i want all of you.” the question was heaved through your words from the foreplay that had taken a gust of your air right out from under of you.

“we’ve talked about this darling, ‘m ready.” adding on to your comment, reassuring the boy who seemed to be faintly timorous on his next action that was soon to take place. you caressed his forearm, feeling the rigid bends of his veins over the pads of your finger tips. your other hand maneuvering itself on the curvature of his neck and bringing his lips to slot with your own.

feeling the comforting and familiar taste of pumpkin and cinnamon transfuse onto your tongue in the midst of feeling his plush lips blend with yours.

“i’m ready, want you inside of me.”

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

any position where he can see your face, he can see your body, he can see all of you. he wants to kiss you, mark you, caress you. he wants everything he wants to feel so connected with you.

“you my darling.” he spoke, sighing as he spoke. in between words of his affirmations, splotching small kisses that bore on the planes of your lower abdomen and shifting his way up your bare-body.

“are the most ethereal thing, to ever exist.” the boy continued in his wake of appraisal, of your complete quintessence and soul.

“i love you.” you whispered in a small, barely audible murmur in appreciation of the red head you had been destined with. he was truly put in your path of life to give and receive love and adoration. “i love you.” the boy whispered back at your confession, muffled into the flesh above your sternum.

continuing to leave small vermillion hues of colour, making his way to the the junction of your neck and resuming with his praises of adorations of your complete essence.

the scarlet-haired boy was completely entranced with every element of your being, almost besotted with your every move. always wanted to praise, and adore every aspect of you in anyway he could possible.

“no, i love you more.” he corrected himself, undeserving of your mutual appreciation.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

healthy use of both. sometimes you guys have your super serious moments and other times you guys are giggling together.

“oh merlin, i really hope fred did not hear that.” you spoke through a sporadic chortle, your previous whimper being a little bit too raucous. the both of your wands misplaced and unable to cast a muffling charm meant you and george had to be as quiet as possible.

“y/n, he definitely did. let’s hope he’s asleep.” george making an effort to whisper but his own disgustingly humours mind getting too himself and letting chuckle slip out from his lips mid-sentence.

“i didn’t say stop, keep going!” you hastily spoke, sending a cheeky grin in faux annoyance at him as he continued his slow but intensely deep thrusts in your pulsing cunt, the both of you close to a release.

you were deeply trying to muffle your pleasureful noises from the palm of your hand, but discreetingly failing as you let another strangled moan bubble from your vocal cords.

both you and george looking at eachother frantic for a moment, completely silent and worried if one of his dorm mates had heard the both of you. silent for a moment then chuckling together whilst bumping noses at the voyeuristic acts that were being taken place in his very bed.

“oi, some of us are trying to sleep here!”

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

yes the fucking carpet matches the damn drapes HE HAS A CARROT CROTCH DO NOT TELL ME OTHERWISE. as for grooming, i think he just just have a stubble? like i don’t feel like he cares to much about hair so he would just shave most of it off. as for u he does not give a fuck, as long as you like yourself he likes you so it does not matter at all for him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

ITS GEORGE WEASLEY IF UR NOT EXPECTING ROMANCE AND INTIMACY 89% OF THE TIME GO REEVALUATE. i’m not saying he’s not rough or not kinky, but he’s very intimate with you especially during aftercare. if he’s feeling special, like on anniversaries, birthdays, or days he wanted to make you feel really really good he would bring out rose petals, floating candles i mean he would WHIP OUT A LAVENDER OIL DEFUSER OR SOMETHING?

the floor was coated in tons vermillion bloomed rose petals, the scent of cinnamon and fresh linnen was intense through the air of the newly-cleaned dormitory, the fresh ivory bed made and the pillows slightly puffed to perfection.

“just, y’know, one last birthday surprise?” the red-head boy muttered staring at the scarlet-shaded floors whilst attempting to distract himself by fumbling his clammy hands into the pockets of his overworn grey slacks.

“d’you like it?” george continued to mutter, his eyes staggering around the room he had prepared for you both that night so he could kiss, cherish and adulate your entire being till the depths of early morning sunrise.

“georgie, i— i love it.” you felt perspiration sting in the waterlines of your eyes as you stammered slightly in shock, intense adoration and tenderness hastily speeding through your bloodstream hitting you directly into the warmth of your heart.

facing said-boy, you looked at him with complete fondness, grasping upon of his hand that was resting in his slacks now in the palm of your own comically-smaller hand.

“it’s truly amazing.”

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

gonna be honest here, not really. unless he wasn’t seeing you for like weeks, like during a holiday or something. even then i feel like he would imagine you were doing it to him, like whenever he was feeling needy he would normally just go to you and you were more than happy to oblige to his request.

“oh— fuck me.” the boy groaned while stroking his cock in quick circular motions, the other hand preoccupied with a risqué polaroid photo of you that you had sent him in the mail during the winter holidays.

it wasn’t the easiest being away from him during the winter holidays and his randomly occurring hard-ons apparently happened to occur more frequently without a desirable girlfriend around and more time to use your undesirable hand.

attempting to finish himself off fairly quickly so he could scoundrel himself back to bed counting the days till you would dramatically reunite on the hogwarts express and more than likely pull you away from peering eyes for a quickie in the bathroom.

just the thought of your beautiful skin melding with his own in the humid air of the bathroom made him spurt his release all over his prick and a groan emerging from his throat in the process.

“fuck.”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

he has a innocence kink.... like the thought of teaching you everything like in bed makes his mind go WEEE WOO WEEE WOOO

now i shall elaborate

“pretty girl, does it feel good?” he crooned into the shell of your ear, feeling the tense grasp of your agile hands on his clothed biceps where his dress shirt laid on him and suddenly crinkled from your clasp onto him.

“mhm— yes, yes georgie.” you gasped mid sentence, trying to catch your breath from the new sensations that had washed over your nerves, feeling new pleasureful burning sensations in the pit of your abdomen and run along the curvature of your spine.

attempting to suppress small moans you continued petite chokes of air in ecstasy feeling george’s pads of his fingers dance upon your clit. “oh— fuck.” you muttered in a form of a bleary headspace trying to manage a coherent thought.

the red-head grinned in gratification, your full pleasure at his decree, knowingly giving you these new sensations. “i thought you were an innocent girl, now you’re my dirty one?” the boy mocked at your trembling figure in his lap.

“maybe you’re not my innocent girl after all.”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

in my head.... he likes voyerism. don’t ask me why but the thrill of someone catching y’all 🤪

so i will no would have to say that he likes his dormitory a lot but i also feel like he likes the common room couch.

“oh, fuck—“ the moan has blossomed out of your throat and tinged in the previously solemn and peaceful common room, but now the air felt humid and extremely titillating common room that had been used for social and cuticular activities now being used for intercourse.

“darling if you’re not quiet we’re going to be caught.” the vibrations of his words directly muffled onto your perspired flesh, due to his manipulation of your body strictly at his will. “so good, daddy, so so good.” the words mildly uttered from your throat due to the infrequent gasps of pleasure between your words.

the both of you fused together passionately on the snug common room sofa in the late hours of the night, to be caught in a very comprising position by a student or supervisor if not subtle enough. the fire being your only production of light source throughout the entire room, dismissed in the backround close to being burnt out entirely.

“but daddy, you make me feel so good.” you’re voice tinged into a slightly higher pitch, feeling his deep thrusts enclosed inside of your cunt, your attempted muffles of rising gasps and lament whimpers to be heard significantly prominent throughout the walls of the vermillion shaded common room.

“awe slut, you want everyone to know how i’m making you feel?”

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

so since georgie is a switch i feel like most of his motivation comes from when you’re bossy, outside of the bedroom. telling him what to do, how to do it, having to fix it for him. because either he’s gonna punish you for thinking you can be in charge or he’s gonna do literally everything you tell him too without a second thought.

“ok so for today, we’re not playing around here, you finish your charms, then we have lunch, we do transfiguration together, play some quidditch with fred, eat dinner, and then free period to do whatever we want, got it?” your hastily speeding voice catching the attention of his ears and consuming every single word that you had to say.

you glanced at him for a moment, his eyes slightly out of zone but still attentive to your words, also wanting to distinguish if he had been following to the list you had for the day so he could ultimately stop procrastinating and get his work done.

“yeah, er, i got it.” george spoke awkwardly for a moment, trying to discreetly shuffle around his body at the feeling of immense amount of pressure and tensity starting to form around his groin.

you raised a brown, you’re forehead slightly creasing as you tested the waters at his slightly timid figure and lack of response. “do i need to make you repeat it back to me.” tilting your head, trying to pan off as more intimidating so the red-head would coherently listen to you rather than pawn off and work on a prank with his mischievous-twin.

“no, no— i’m fi— you’re fine.” he groaned and he hesitated mid-sentence aiming to speak as casually as possible, moderately shuffling around his pants as he spoke at your firm and unyielding tone with him.

“you’re sure? because if you’ve got it wrong i’m going to upset, got it?” your voice at an adamant expression, annunciating that everything for the day was going to be smooth sailing rather than difficult and irritating for either of you.

“no, i understand.” he cleared his throat in compliance, aiming to remove any unnerving tension that might be there as he awkwardly trailed behind you to the library.

not to mention with a rock hard cock just sitting in his plants.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

threesomes. “bUt pArIs” NO. he would not want to share you, he had literally had to share everything his whole life and seeing his twin brother or literally anyone else pleasure you is a big fat NONO

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he’s a giver, if u say no, ur lying. hearing you go literally whimper, tremble, moan at HIS will that’s enough for him to cream his pants.

“georgie— fuck. keep going.” your praised the boy deep between your legs, your words of appraisal going straight to his groin area whilst you threaded you fingers directly into his damp ginger locks.

feeling his tongue swirl directly onto your engorged clit, small gasps emitting from your mouth as his face was buried into your cunt for the last hour. the exceedingly amount of ecstasy built up into a broiling pit in your belly and ready to explode at any given moment.

“‘m gonna cum, gonna finish.” you gasped, feeling his tongue prodding at your entrance, his thumb placed directly onto your swollen cunt and swirling in figure eight like motions to make your orgasam rapidly occur.

his prick immensely hard, beseeching for a release. his nearest output being the subtle grind of his hips and the soft mattress of the bed as you continued to sensually yank at his hair.

feeling the overflow of desire, the whimpers exceeding from your lips and the pressure against his cock made his orgasam occur midst your own; finishing together the only thing to be heard was your heaving breaths and george’s hoarse voice from not speaking for the last while.

“so, i might’ve just done something.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

i feel like he’s very medium paced, he’s not to fast nor slow. he has his moments where it’s very slow and loving or if he just lost a quidditch game and it’s very fast in rough. i don’t think it’s set on just one i think it varies.

“needy little slut, just wanted me so badly, hmm?” the grit in george’s teeth prominent as he spoke to you, the tensity of his hands on grip of your waist also clinically distinguished as he pulsed in and out of your from behind.

“fuck— please.” the begging was evident in your tone, feeling the grasp on your waist and he plunged into you emitting gasps every few seconds from desire. his hand grasped onto the root of your tresses, your cheek melding with the mattress and a moan exploding from your trachea at his aggressive demeanour.

“please—“ you continued you beg, not for anything in specific but the feeling of him to continue his thrusts and not falter his pace. the feeling of being exceedingly full of him, the explicit belligerent emotion he was feeling and turning that into passion.

knees bucking at his will as he continued the fast and thrown pace that was previously endured. feeling the ecstasy rome freely through your veins as he degraded you.

“my slut, so dirty.”

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

so... george wants to appreciate you fully. and i don’t think either of you would be so horny that he had to just pull you in a broom closet. even if it’s fast and rough aftercare is still extremely keen to him after having sex no matter the circumstances so i don’t think he would be into quickies.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) - this was in fact somewhat inspired by 50 shades of grey

george is the kinkier twin. there i said it, and i will not change my mind. yeah he’s more quiet whatever more emotional, throughful BUT THOSE ARE ALWAYS THE ONES WHO ARE KINKIER. i so as long as you were cool with it i feel like he would be as-well.

“so you wanna play, dove?” running the tip of the small blade down the depth of your torso, and across your abdomen seeing the heaving rise and fall of your torso. the slight scarlet-coloured ribbon peaking from underneath the arch of your back that restrained both of your wrists.

“yes, sir.” the mumble was stern, and tense but slightly heaved from apprehension on what he would do with the tip of the stygian-coloured blade that was held in his ivory hand. your safe word explicitly-clear before he had restricted your eyesight.

a slow light vermillion trailed in its wake from the tip of the blade that moved across the skin of your navel. he heard the audible gasp release from your mouth in anticipation.

“keep going, please.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

so i feel like george goes for like.... 3? but he definitely does foreplay and stuff too. so it’s like a healthy mix of a lot. so a couple of rounds, sometimes more, sometimes less, it all depends on the time like early in the morning or really late at night.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

so, i don’t think so. so the only thing i feel like he would have is like ropes/ties and blindfolds. other than that i don’t think so, but fred has definitely gifted you something just for the kick of it all.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

i feel like it depends if he’s more sub or more dom. if he’s dom he will tease you all he likes just to see you squirm, but if he’s sub then he definitely will wants you to tease him.

“georgie, please, i cant take it anymore.” you pleaded, your tone was soft but irritated, the continuous edging was extremely displeasing for you. you wanted him, you wanted to feel every withering inch of him, his body, his essence; but he simply wouldn’t give it to you.

“c’mon, weren’t you the one who ‘said patience is a virtue.’ you’ve got to be patient then, right dove?.” george made a mockery of something you had in a different context but instead he used it to his advantage.

his middle finger crept its way back to the depth of your navel and right on your cunt, starting recurrent swirls on your engorged clit. feeling a similar sensation that you had previously endured till your denied orgasam.

“be patient, or you won’t be getting anything.”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

i feel like it’s a lot of grunting and dirty talk, or even just praising. there’s more moaning when doing oral. it’s not necessarily loud but you can clearly hear it.

“my pretty little witch.” the words of appraisal blossomed from his mouth as he kissed upon the column of your neck and the bend of your shoulders. he proceeded to kiss around the shell of your ear and speaking.

“nobody can make me feel the way you can.” george murmured making sure you know, followed by a pleasureful grunt by the way your cunt was continuously clenching around his cock and the way your hand grasped at his lower back.

“oh, merlin—“ your voice sounded like a gasp, arching your back directly into his freckled chest from his prick prodding at your cervix, you’re breathing was heaved from his continuous thrusts that faltered as he was close to release and exceedingly praised into your perspired skin.

“i love you so much.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

george likes pda. i’m not talking like sex in the great hall or obnoxiously making out in the courtyard but he does like to show everyone that you are together.

“georgie if you kiss me again fred is going to throw up.” the murmur sent vibrational waves into the boys cheek your own affections shown at the proximity between you both, partly because the incessant chatter of the great hall.

“and? you’re my girl.” the statement was clear as day in his eyes, he wanted to show everyone just how much he loved you, the intimacy in the situation between two teenagers who were in love; he didn’t care what anyone else had to say.

you looked at him for a moment with challenging eyes, seeing the intimacy in his own cocoa-coloured ones. poorly making an effort to suppress a grin at his affections.

he took his opportunity to press a kiss to your plush-smooth lips, then the hued rose coloured flesh on your cheek, then the tip of your pointed nose.

“i love you, i won’t not show that because my git brother doesn’t like it.”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

i feel like it’s a bit bigger than average, probably around 8in when hard? i think it’s more longer than thicker.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

i mean..... he’s a teenage boy. i think it’s average like i don’t think he’s dying to have sex every second but he does in-fact like to appreciate you in more ways that one. because sex for him isn’t just a way to get rid of a hard on it’s a way to appreciate your body and just you in general.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

i feel like it depends on how hard the both of you went, because you guys could either end up talking for hours or simply just cuddle and fall asleep.

“‘m so tired, georgie.” you murmured into the boys bare chest, stroking the side of his torso as the both of you laid below his his fitted sheet bed. the time around twelve am and your eyes desperate for sleep.

“sleep, darling. i’ll be here in the morning to wake you up.” he uttered. his voice fairly hoarse and rough, whilst stroking your back feeling the wrinkle in the shirt he had given you. fairly prideful that you had been wearing something of his.

“love you, georgie” you wiped your nose while speaking, feeling love and adorned by the boy you were cuddling with; wanting these solemn peaceful moments forever.

“love you more, forever ‘n ever.”

taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @famdomhideout @hufflepogue

[alphadaddyderek]

Dude, just get out! (we both live here dumbass!) (sterek fic, smut, college au)

Stiles was initially excited to go to college. The freedom aspect of it in particular is what Stiles was the most excited about. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his dad, of course, he does. He didn’t mind living with him, he liked seeing him on a daily basis. He’s all Stiles has. Well, Stiles has Scott, but Scott is attending university in Arizona of all places. Meanwhile, Stiles is going to NYU, so, there’s not a lot of opportunities to see Scott or his father in person.

Not to fret though! Stiles was ready like Freddy to meet new people and, hopefully, make new friends along the way. That’s what college is all about. Supposedly, Stiles wouldn’t know but if all the movies are to be believed then that’s what college is all about.

He and his dad spent days driving up to NYU and then spent hours moving Stiles’ belongings into his off-campus apartment and unpacking. Stiles got a full-ride —thank god— so there’s extra money for him to be able to live in an actual, nice apartment instead of the dorms. His roommate was nowhere to be seen at the time, but that was fine with Stiles. He’d have plenty of opportunities to get to know him. Stiles’ dad left to stay in a hotel for the night because there was no way he was starting the trek back to Beacon Hills this late in the day. So, Stiles was left to his own devices in his new apartment.

Well, he was for about twenty minutes, then his roommate came back and...he’s kind of a dick.

He has a resting bitch face and he hardly likes to talk. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s because the guy doesn’t like him or if he’s just the quiet type. He’s starting to think that the guy doesn’t like him because every time Stiles starts talking he looks annoyed. The dick’s name is Derek and coincidentally, he also goes to NYU. He did tell Stiles his major, but wouldn’t tell Stiles what his favorite color was, which is just plain rude.

Anyway, Stiles isn’t going to let this Debbie downer ruin his college experience, no way!

Stiles decides the best thing to do is to just ignore him. Which is hard to do because the guy takes up so much space, like, he’s actually huge. And he always seems to be in the apartment when Stiles comes back from classes. Which is weird because, dude, don’t you have classes to go to? Nonetheless, he’s always there which means Stiles has to see him all the time and Derek can continue being an asswipe for no reason.

For example, Stiles sometimes forgets to wash the dishes —sue him!— and Derek will chew him out for it. Stiles didn’t know Derek was such a neat freak, but now that he knows he’ll leave more things laying around because Stiles can also be a dick when he wants to be. Maybe Derek should learn to be more personable, then Stiles wouldn’t have to go out of his character by doing such petty things. They’ve only been living together for about a week and a half and there’s already a turf battle going on. Stiles isn’t sure who’s going to win this battle, however, the sight of Derek tripping over one of Stiles’ shoes and the subsequent curse that flies out of his mouth makes Stiles not even care in the end.

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

After about a month, it's way more than just a battle. The turf battle has evolved into a war and now, no one is safe.

Derek continues being yucky and Stiles continues to do things to intentionally annoy him, except, now Derek is doing things to annoy Stiles. Like, eating all of Stiles’ Pop-Tarts or, and this is a cruel one, flushing the toilet while Stiles is in the shower. Unfortunately for Stiles, Derek buys gross ass healthy food for himself, and Stiles couldn’t choke down that food to save his life. So, what can one do to even the playing field?

Derek is sitting on the couch in the living room, watching some show about underwater caves. Stiles normally wouldn’t stick around because, despite what Derek might think, Stiles really doesn’t enjoy being talked down to by an abnormally grumpy man. This time though, Stiles sits down beside him. He can see Derek watching him from the corner of his eye, probably waiting to see what Stiles is going to do. Stiles likes to instill fear in Derek. Normally he acts like Stiles is nothing more than a bug he wants to squish under his overly expensive boot, but now? He’s worried. He should be. Stiles is going to pull out his ultimate weapon.

“So, whatcha watchin’?” Stiles asks, plastering a smile onto his face.

Derek gives him a suspicious look. “Why do you want to know?”

Stiles shrugs, smile still present. “I’m curious. This show seems interesting.”

Derek gives him an incredulous eyebrow raise, which is super insulting. Derek thinks all Stiles watches is Harry Potter, Star Wars, and superhero movies. Which is just wrong. But that’s okay. Stiles thinks all Derek watches are documentaries about how to be a functioning human in society, which, newsflash Derek, still needs working on.

A few minutes go by before Stiles decides to speak again. “So, you haven’t told me about your family.”

“That’s intentional.”

Stiles laughs. Derek thinks he can scare Stiles into leaving him alone. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles has zero self-preservation skills.

“Come on Derek. We’re roommates. Don’t you want us to get along?”

Derek didn’t dignify that with a response —rude!— so Stiles speaks again.

“My dad is the sheriff of my hometown. Been that way for as long as I can remember. My best friend, his name is Scott, wants to be a vet. He goes to The University of Arizona. After that he’s not sure where he’ll go to get his DVM but he’s open to anything.”

Derek turns the volume up on the tv and Stiles bites his lip to stifle his laughter.

Ah, Derek. That won’t help.

“At first I was kinda skeptical about Scott becoming a vet. I mean, he’s a puppy himself, and I love him to death, but sometimes he’s ditzy. He’s a ditzy brunette. But after working at Deaton’s, Deaton is the town vet, for years he’s proved me wrong,” Stiles risks a glance at Derek and he’s scowling so hard Stiles is kind of afraid it’ll get stuck that way forever. “He and his girlfriend, Allison, are kind of having issues with long-distance but they’re high school sweethearts so I’m confident that they’ll work through it. They’re so cute together that it’s actually kinda nauseating. Like, sometimes their sappiness makes me sick to my stomach. I wonder when they’ll get ma-”

Derek abruptly stands up and walks out the room, slamming and locking his bedroom door, as if Stiles is the boogeyman who he’s trying to keep out.

Stiles snickers and grabs the remote to change the channel. Derek gets annoyed when Stiles talks, well, he shouldn’t have started this war then (it doesn’t matter that technically Stiles started it). Stiles has weaponized his ability to talk people’s ears off. So, Derek better watch out.

Hopefully, Derek won’t murder Stiles in his sleep.

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

Okay, so, Stiles thinks maybe this whole turf war thing is getting out of hand.

It’s been a total of 3 and a half months since they’ve been living together and Derek and Stiles are on edge around each other 24/7. Stiles has to shower around eleven o’clock at night so that Derek won’t burn him alive by flushing the toilet. Derek doesn’t have access to Stiles’ snacks anymore because Stiles hid them in the back of his closet. Derek stays in his room all day just so that Stiles won't have any opportunities to talk to him. They’re at an impasse, but Stiles has a feeling that the worst has yet to come.

A really bad feeling.

Stiles comes back from a particularly grueling day of classes to see Derek sitting on the couch...and he’s smirking.

That doesn’t bode well for Stiles.

“Hello, Stiles.”

“Uh, hey dude. Why do you look like a supervillain?”

“‘Cause I have a surprise for you.”

Yeah, that definitely didn’t sound good.

“Actually, I am a-okay. I really don’t need the surprise. I appreciate it though,” Stiles tries to make his way towards his room but Derek keeps talking.

“I normally don’t snoop through people’s things, it’s really not in my character, but after you left to go out last night, I heard some weird noises coming from your room. I was trying to ignore it at first, but after a while I went to see what it was. I was going to mention it this morning but you woke up before I did and by the time I had woken up you were already in class.”

Stiles had stopped in his tracks but he still hasn’t turned around to face Derek, because if Derek is going where Stiles thinks he’s going, Stiles is going to need to be able to book it into his bedroom as soon as possible.

Derek didn’t seem too perturbed by Stiles’ silence since he continues with his story. “Imagine my surprise when I found out that it was your laptop making that noise. Now, I wasn’t surprised by the fact that porn was playing, but what I was surprised at-”

Oh god.

“-was that the video you were watching was titled ‘bear fucks twink with huge cock’. And now I can’t help but question your hatred towards me.”

Stiles’ face is burning. He’s never been so embarrassed in his life, which is really a great feat because Stiles doesn’t get embarrassed by much. It’s not that Stiles didn’t notice Derek was hot, like, come on now, Derek is gorgeous. He’s not that much taller than Stiles but the size of his biceps? They’re easily the size of Stiles’ thigh. Derek is bigger than Stiles in every aspect.

Well, he’s not sure about every aspect. Stiles has never seen Derek’s dick outright, but he’s seen him wear sweatpants, and ooh boy, that bulge gives Stiles the impression that Derek is hung like a horse.

Stiles still hates Derek because Derek still has his asshole-ish ways. Case in point: right the fuck now. But, you can hate someone and still want to fuck them, right? Hate sex exists.

Derek is patiently waiting for Stiles to respond, and Stiles has never been good at staying silent, so it’s only a matter of time.

Stiles finally turns around to face Derek and clears his throat. “That- that means nothing. People watch shit like that all the time. Plus, you hardly qualify as a bear.”

It’s a weak excuse but, hey, Stiles is grasping at straws here.

Derek tilts his head to the side in agreement. “True, but if that was the case, why do you seem so nervous?”

Stiles can’t think of a reasonable response in time and Derek knows it.

Derek smirks again and Stiles really wants to knee him in the dick.

“Do you wanna fuck me?”

Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek. What the fuck is his endgame here? Why is he being such a dick?

Oh yeah, because Derek is a fucking asshole.

“Fine,” Stiles says through gritted teeth. “I find you attractive. I watch porn about big, hairy men fucking twinks because I want you to fuck me. Are you happy now? Jackass.”

Stiles storms into his room and slams the door. That’s a perfect example of why people can’t be pretty and nice. It’s genetically impossible.

Stiles lets out a sigh and dumps his backpack on his bed before stripping out of his clothes and getting into the shower. He stands under the spray for ten minutes, just praying to the cosmic gods out there that a black hole will appear and suck the whole human race into nothingness. After waiting for a few more minutes, and his prayers going unanswered, he washes himself then gets out to dry off. He wraps the towel around his waist and opens the door to find Derek standing outside his bathroom door. He shrieks (a very manly shriek by the way) and covers his chest with his arms, not that that’ll hide much.

“Derek, what the fuck are you doing?”

Derek’s eyes do the slowest sweep in fucking existence down Stiles’ body and Stiles feels his cheeks flush. Ugh, why are the cutest guys always assholes?

“I came to apologize. I was being a dick-”

“What else is new?” Stiles interrupts. Stiles is rewarded with another smirk.

“-and I took it too far. I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”

Stiles looks at Derek for a second. They’ve never apologized to each other when they did shit, and even though Stiles didn’t take it as far as Derek did, Stiles can’t stand here and act like he wasn’t also an asshole.

Stiles sighs. “I’m sorry too. I was also kind of a dick. Not as much as you, but still.”

Derek laughs a little, and Jesus H. Christ, how is a laugh sexy? “Apology accepted.”

Stiles holds his hand out for a handshake. Derek puts his hand in Stiles’ and they shake on their newfound not-friendship-but-also-maybe-not-complete-dicks-to-each-other-ship.

“So,” Derek starts after they drop their hands. “wanna have sex?”

Stiles might’ve actually choked on his own fucking spit, because what?

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted to have sex.”

“Where is this even coming from? You hate my guts. Every time I talk you look like you’re going in for a root canal.”

Stiles is so confused, he’s also getting hornier by the minute, but right now, the confusion is outweighing the horniness.

“I don’t hate you. Yeah you talk a lot, and it was so annoying at first, sometimes it still is, but I got used to your incessant chatter.”

Stiles knows he looks dumb, his mouth is gaping and everything. “I think maybe there was something in the water because I must be high. We’ve lived together for over 3 months and you’re telling me that you actually want to have sex with me?”

Derek shrugs. “Yeah. Just because you can be kinda annoying that doesn’t mean you’re not cute. Plus, people have sex all the time, that doesn’t mean we have to, like, date or whatever.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek’s so romantic, how has Stiles been able to resist jumping his bones for this long?

“You just embarrassed the hell out of me, why would I ever want to have sex with you?” Never mind the fact that Stiles definitely does want to have sex with him.

“Maybe you don’t. If not, then fine. We can just go back to how things were. If you do, then we’ll have a great time.”

Stiles is still struggling to wrap his mind around all of this. Derek wants to have sex with him? In what universe does that make sense?

Apparently in this one.

Stiles does this sort of shrug that basically portrays well, what the fuck? Okay then. “Okay. I guess this is happening then.”

Derek smirks for like the fiftieth time in thirty seconds and if Stiles was a stronger man he definitely would’ve kneed Derek in the dick, but clearly, Stiles is weak.

Very, very weak.

“My room or yours?” Derek asks.

“Mine. Since it’s right there,” Stiles points behind Derek and, lo and behold, there’s Stiles’ bed.

Grabbing Stiles’ hand in a surprisingly gentle gesture, Derek walks the three feet from the bathroom to the bed to lay Stiles down.

Derek gets on top of the bed and is sitting on his knees by Stiles’ feet. He pulls his shirt off like he’s in Magic Mike or something before throwing it onto the floor without a care in the world. Jesus, it’s like his muscles have muscles. Stiles starts feeling a little insecure about his body. He’s got muscles, but, he’s not, like, ripped like Derek is. Stiles likes to think he has somewhat of a swimmer’s body.

Looming over him like a fucking creeper, Derek stares down at Stiles. “You know, you’re very pretty.”

Stiles refuses to admit that he blushes at that because he’s not pretty. If anything he’s handsome, some may even say gorgeous.

“Can you just get on with it?” Stiles throwing a scowl in Derek’s direction.

“Bossy. I kinda like that,” he strips his sweatpants off and throws them down too. Now he’s only in a pair of gray boxer briefs and, god, Stiles wants to suck his dick so badly. Which is weird because he’s really not all that experienced with blowjobs, he’s given maybe two blowjobs in his life. Whatever, Derek has a great dick okay?

Derek tugs at the towel around Stiles’ waist. “Is this okay?”

Stiles nods and then the towel is gone, and Stiles is laid bare for Derek to gaze at his leisure. And boy does Derek gaze. He does another slow sweep down Stiles’ body, except this time it’s even more intense because now Stiles is naked.

“You’re not a virgin right?” Derek asks while rummaging through Stiles’ bedside drawer and pulling out the lube. First of all, it’s rude to go through people’s stuff! Second of all, how the hell did Derek know his lube was there? Although, where else would lube be?

“Nope. There will be no deflowering of the Stiles today. Sorry to disappoint.”

Derek shrugs before popping open the lube. “I’m not one of those weirdos who pops a boner at the thought of popping someone’s cherry.”

Stiles chuckles, like actually chuckles. Who knew Derek was even capable of being funny?

Stiles pulls his legs up and hooks his hands behind his knees. The position exposes Stiles’ hole to the extreme and it makes Stiles blush. Just because he’s not a virgin doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get nervous or embarrassed during sex.

Derek knee-walks closer to Stiles and squirts some lube onto his fingers. He puts one hand on Stiles’ right thigh while the other one gently and slowly breaches his entrance. Fuck, his fingers are thick. Thicker than Stiles’ that’s for sure. Stiles definitely isn’t shy about fingering. He fingers himself all the time, but it’s been a while since someone else’s fingers were up there. Stiles is nervous and excited about it all.

Derek doesn’t spend too much time with the one finger, quickly adding a second one and that’s when it starts feeling good. Derek’s fingers are about an inch away from his prostate and Stiles is about to curse him out until Derek presses both fingers against his prostate and Stiles has to bite his lip to stop the loud ass moan that almost escaped his mouth. Judging by the look on Derek’s face, he knows he touched Stiles’ prostate, and being the asshole that he is, he has a cocky smile on his face.

After scissoring those two fingers inside Stiles for a few minutes, Derek adds a third finger. The stretch is definitely there, but hey, Stiles likes a little pain with sex. He can be kinky sometimes.

“Okay. I’m ready, come on,” Stiles says. He was starting to get impatient. He just wants to get dicked down already, damn.

Derek gently removes his fingers and gets off the bed to pick up his sweatpants. He reaches into the pocket and retrieves a condom out. Stiles’ mouth drops.

“So you just knew I’d have sex with you?”

“I didn’t know. I just hoped.”

That smarmy little bastard.

Derek gets back in bed and, finally, removes his briefs and...

Holy mother of god.

Well, maybe not the mother of god. That’s blasphemous as fuck. But! The sentiment is the same because wow. Stiles is glad he didn’t knee him in the dick because that dick is too gorgeous to cause serious injury to. He’s not like porn star big, but it is big and long too. And it’s uncut, which Stiles has a weird sort of kink about. He loves uncut cocks. Yeah, that’s a good-looking cock right there.

Derek unwraps the condom and rolls it onto his cock. He then grabs the bottle of lube that he placed on the bed and squirts more out before slathering a generous amount onto said cock. He makes Stiles move his hands before replacing them with one of his own, the other is at the base of his cock, lining it up to Stiles’ hole.

“You ready baby?” Derek asks.

“Call me baby again and I’ll dropkick you in the throa- oh fuck.”

Of course, Derek chose when Stiles was mid-threat to start pushing his cock inside. Geez, that is seriously a big cock, even the fingering didn’t make it burn any less. Derek gently pushes his cock in deeper before pulling it out, then he pushes it in a little deeper than he did at first before pulling it back out again. He repeats that until his cock is seated all the way inside, his balls to Stiles’ ass. Then he stops and waits. There’s sweat gathering above Derek’s eyebrow and some is even rolling down his temple. Needless to say, Derek isn’t as unaffected as he’s trying to be. Which makes Stiles feel kind of great actually.

“Okay, you can move now,” Stiles informs Derek. And when Stiles says Derek goes to town, he really means that.

Derek puts his other hand behind Stiles’ left knee and pulls out all the way, not even the tip is inside, before thrusting back in. Hard.

Stiles’ breath gets forced out of him at the movement. This truly is hate sex, kinda. Derek said he didn’t hate Stiles, but he certainly doesn’t like him all that much. At least, not yet. Who knows what will stem from this. That’s something to think about when Derek isn’t pounding him into the mattress.

Derek delivers a thrust that nails Stiles’ prostate dead on and Stiles makes this super embarrassing sound, like a high-pitched keen. He knows he’s not going to live that down after this.

After that, Derek is consistent with the hard abuse on Stiles’ prostate, and Stiles is getting close to orgasm embarrassingly fast. He isn’t too sure he’ll be able to last much longer. Although, Derek doesn’t seem like he’s going to be able to either. If the grunts and groans he’s letting out are anything to go by.

“Unh, fuck. Derek-!”

“Yeah, you’re gonna come?”

Stiles frantically nods his head and grabs his own cock to start stroking himself. Derek thrusts harder if that’s even possible, and within a few seconds, Stiles is coming all over his stomach.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groans and thrusts one, two, three more times before stopping with a deep, guttural moan. He almost sounds like an actual bear and Stiles can’t help the giggle that escapes him.

Derek gives him a weird look but his lip quirks up in a maybe sort of smile. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing,” Stiles gives him a shit-eating grin.

And since it’s already been established that Derek is an asshole, he grinds and his cock brushes against Stiles’ oversensitive prostate causing Stiles’ whole body to convulse. He slaps Derek’s arm.

Derek pulls out and lets go of Stiles’ legs. They’re sore from being in the same position for so long but Stiles can’t even care. He’s sated and all he wants to do now is take a nap. Stiles stretches his whole body like a cat while Derek disposes of the condom.

“Okay, that was fun. If you want to annoy me, I’ll be in my room.” And with that, Derek walks out of Stiles’ room to go to his own.

Derek was definitely a dick, but Stiles could deal with him. Especially if they continue to fuck like that.

Holy (not) mother of god indeed.

[ptersparkers]

put your head on my shoulder

summary: jake virtanen’s got his eye on a certain friend of his. 

notes: uh, hey! this isn’t meant to be long but i had an idea and needed to get it out of my system. this is an x reader insert but i wanted to try writing from a different perspective and challenge myself. enjoy!! 

warnings: mentions of alcohol and general dumbassery from brock <3

masterlist n stuff + add yourself to my taglist 

(as a reminder, im NOT writing for outer banks anymore so please don’t add yourself to a specific list. you’re gonna be disappointed lol.) 

***

The girl who had Jake’s attention at the beginning of the night was slowly losing her patience when she noticed his eyes wander instead of focusing on her.

Jessica, in her prim little black dress that was short enough for her liking, came to the house party with the intention to have her dress taken off by none other than Jake Virtanen after one of her friends had mentioned how easy it was for her to do it. The girl wrapped her lips around the beer bottle seductively every time she went to take a sip, watching as his Adam’s apple moved with every syllable as he spoke.

She knew the host of the party and knew he was friends with some of the Canucks players, and knew it would be easy to get lost in the crowd of other Vancouver locals and visitors who were there to celebrate a successful week of wins. Jessica was sure to arrive fashionably late with her best friend by her side and paid no attention to the gazes of other men down her body, her own mission to find Jake more prevalent than lustful stares from drunk men.

Jake entertained the girl when she spotted one of their mutual friends, who was standing next to him, and made her presence known when she said hello over the loud music. Their mutual friend adopted her into the conversation and she put herself right next to the player, tucking herself by his side in an attempt to distance herself from the other partygoers beside her. She didn’t think Jake minded after seeing him give her a close-mouthed smile and licked her lips.

If Jessica could remember correctly, her friend had hooked up with Jake a few months back and, to her knowledge, was still single. She tried to remember how her friend had managed to seduce him with a few drinks in both of their systems and little conversation. Jessica was itching to leave the party with Jake’s hand in hers (or find the nearest unoccupied bedroom because she wasn’t picky) but the pleasant conversation between Jake and their mutual friend seemed to keep him preoccupied, leaving Jessica no room to interject.

After a while, their mutual friend excused themselves to say hello to another individual at the party and the group that had gathered to talk began to disperse or left to grab another drink. Jessica considered the best way to seduce Jake without being completely upfront and forward.

But when her eyes looked at his face, she could see his mind was elsewhere.

They continued the conversation from before but she steered the discussion to get to know him; where he was from, what he did in his free time, and how he knew the host of the party, all of which she knew but wanted to hear anyway. Jake spoke to Jessica nonchalantly and seemed to reciprocate the kindness Jessica was showing him. To her, it seemed as if he was genuinely interested in her advances because he didn’t shrug off her hand that she put on his bicep nor flinched when she swatted his chest whenever he made her laugh.

Jake’s eyes began to wander a few minutes into their conversation and she was wondering if he was looking for someone in particular. His tattoos were on full display and all Jessica could think about was his arms wrapped tightly around her, encouraging her to continue the mission she set herself on. She licked her lips more, tried to fix her posture to make herself look more appealing in the moment, and made intense eye contact with the hopes that he’d pick up what she was putting down.

However, her efforts would be unrewarded when he excused himself from their conversation, leaving Jessica standing alone. One of her friends had pulled her into their circle but she watched from her place as Jake traveled to the front of the house and could make out his white shirt until he stopped near the front door. She couldn’t see much past the bodies in front of her but saw a pair of arms—that looked to be from a woman—wrap themselves around his torso for a brief moment before letting him go.

Jessica wondered who the girl was and did her best to listen to her friends speaking but watched from the corner of her eye as Jake arrived with you, a girl she had never met before.

Jake walked behind you as you approached where Jessica was standing and waved hello to the people in the group Jessica was standing with. She looked at Jake and saw that his gaze wasn’t on her anymore but on you as you introduced yourself to those you didn’t know, including Jessica herself.

“God, it’s loud in here, huh?” you said, laughing at your own comment.

“Maybe a little too loud,” one of Jessica’s friends chimed in. “I can feel my ears ringing.” 

“I’m Y/N,” you said, giving Jessica a friendly wave.

“Jessica,” she replied with a nod and reciprocated your smile, though not as genuine. “How do you know the host?” 

“Work friend! He invites me to these things and I’m not one to go out every weekend but Jake convinced me to go.” Jessica watched as Jake looked down to your smaller figure and grinned.

“Hey, everyone needs a good Friday night,” he said.

“Amen to that!” Jessica’s best friend exclaimed before finishing her drink. 

“How do you know Jake?” someone asked. Jessica was relieved that she didn’t ask the question because she felt like she would’ve been invasive if she did.

“We met through Brock and Elias,” Jake explained. “She used to work at this coffee place they go to and I guess they stayed in touch after she left. The rest is history.”

Jessica witnessed Jake put his arm around her shoulder, letting his hand fall and watched as you leaned into his side. She watched as his grin stayed painted on his lips and sighed.

Eventually, the conversation took a turn and the small group that gathered for a while had dispersed throughout the gargantuan house. Jessica followed her friend to the spacious balcony and was pleased when Jake made the executive decision to do the same. But her hopes lessened when she saw Jake lead you to a less crowded part of the balcony.

Jessica watched as he used his right hand to squish your cheeks, laughing at your contorted expression and your pouted lips. She watched as he put his arms on your waist and moved your body to the beat of the song as you spoke. She watched as you took his hands and began examining them as if you’d never seen his body before and witnessed as Jake grinned at the sight of you comparing the size of your hands to his.

She could hear you two speak in the hum of the night despite the volume of the music inside and the chatter of people on the balcony.

“Your hands are so soft,” you commented, toying with his fingers and clasping them with yours. Jake laughed and used this to his advantage, pulling your body flush against his. “You’re so soft.”

“I’m not soft,” Jake mumbled in the crook of your neck, hiding his face from view as you feel his breaths on your neck.

Your hand was still wrapped in his and Jake made no effort to let go. He maneuvered so that your body was in front of his with your back flush against his chest and when he heard you laugh, Jake’s cheeks deepened into a rose blush. His hands clasped around the front of your body and moved the two of you as if a slow along was echoing through the balcony and he watched as you bit your lip. He let his cheek rest against the top of your head, a content smile resting on his lips.

“Are they together?” Jessica asked Brock, who came outside with the girl she came with. The blond looked at her before glancing at where you two stood, grinning knowingly.

“Not yet,” he said.

“Yet?”

Brock looked at Jessica, who he knew in passing and saw only at public events and parties, and shrugged.

“I don’t really know how to explain it,” he explained. “They’ve been friends for a while but he’s very gentle with her.”

“So they’re dating, then?” she asked.

“Like I said, not yet.” Brock smiled politely and left her standing on the ledge in favor of speaking with another friend.

Jessica watched as Jake spun you around to face him once more and used his hands to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as your eyes fluttered close in pure delight. He murmured what Jessica could make out as “I want to kiss you” and watched as Jake waited for your consent before keeping his hands steady and pressing his lips to yours.

Jessica couldn’t watch anymore without feeling invasive so she left the balcony to find another drink.

“You. Are. So. Cute,” Jake said in between kisses while squishing your cheeks between his palms. He laughed as he watched your eyes widened in surprise at his actions before removing his hands to slip by your waist once more, pulling you closer to him.

“We aren’t just friends, are we?” you asked him as you put your hands on his chest, toying with the chain around his neck.

“You’ve always been my girl,” he confessed. “I haven’t thought about being with another girl for a few months now but I think I’ve felt this way ever since you chewed Brock out for standing on a swivel chair.”

You laughed at the memory and tugged on his chain mindlessly and Jake watched as your fingers wrapped themselves around the gold material and dug his fingers into your hips. You squealed and Jake laughed at your reaction.

“Come home with me,” you mumbled before widening your eyes. “I mean, not like that. I just want to go home and watch a movie.”

“Mm,” he replied, dipping his head to pepper kisses along your jawline. “That sounds nice. Stop to buy snacks on the way home?”

“You are the perfect person.”

Jake laughed and pulled away, holding your hand in his as he made his rounds. The both of you said goodbye to mutual friends and both Brock and Elias gave you two thumbs up.

His hand was on your thigh on the drive home and he kissed the back of your hand when your eyes were fluttering shut.

“Don’t sleep on me yet, pretty girl,” he said gently, squeezing your thigh. “You can sleep when we get home.”

True to his word, Jake let you sleep, wrapped up in a blanket with your head on his chest.

+++

taglist: 

@thedemonsimpofcamphalfblood​ @kerwritesthings @oc3an-vib3s @kaitieskidmore1​ @becihadshawn @storiesbymads​. 

[justsomefluff]

Can you do an ateez reaction where the reader gets jealous??

of course I can! took me a while lmao but thank you for being patient, here ya go, precious!

Hongjoong:

Low-key super oblivious to your jealousy

Like he’s having such a good time at whatever event your attending

Kind of gets lost in the fun

Loves making new friends and meeting people who share similar interests

And don’t get me wrong, you’re happy that he is happy

And you are so proud and love listening to all the compliments he gets on his work

You know how important feedback is to him, but you also know that praise is his weak point

(He deserves every bit of it too)

But some people really just don’t know where to draw the line

Sometimes people skip past his work and start complimenting his physical attributes and making flirtatious remarks about his great personality

Like yeah… I know his personality is great he’s my freakin boyfriend

If you say something like that under your breath and Hongjoong catches it?

LMAO

Giggling and excusing himself from the conversation immediately

Thinks its really sweet and funny, but also wants to reassure you

Maintains a steady balance of his attention on you and on networking for the rest of the night

Seonghwa:

I feel like Seonghwa is the type of significant other to be really in tune to your needs and just generally good at picking up on what you’re feeling

So if he thinks that something is bothering you or making you uncomfortable in any way?

Bye. We are leaving.

If you are somewhere that you can’t really leave (like an important business gala or something idk what famous people do)

He will just take you outside for a breath and a conversation

Tries to take your mind off of whatever you were thinking

Assures you that everything being said inside is strictly business related

YOUR BICEPS ARE NOT THEIR BUSINESS

He chuckles at you a little bit and pulls you into a hug when he thinks no one is watching

Will lead you back into the event and just do things to subtly remind you that he’s there with you

Physically and mentally

Holds your hands, keeps an arm around your waist, or just stands close beside you during conversations

Super sweet and just wants you to be happy and comfortable

Yunho:

Don’t take this the wrong way but…

He’s gonna make fun of you

Hard.

Like for real

“Oh you thought-? HA”

And if you’re pouting at his teasing, he’s gonna laugh more

Even though he’s dying inside because you’re so cute

Will say stupid, annoying things the whole time

“Ooh, would you look over there? My ex”

“That person has been checking me out all night, maybe I’ll go say hi”

And you’d whip around every time like ??? ‘Scuse me???

PSYCH

You’re like two seconds from slapping him in front of his boss and all his peers

But then you see that adorable, goofy grin of his

And all your frustration just sort of melts away

You know he only jokes because he finds it ridiculous

Like why would he ever look for someone else when youre right there?

But I’m sure you’ll find a way to get him back for being a brat somehow

Yeosang:

This one will not understand why you’re jealous

More the type to let you simmer while simultaneously doing things to soothe you

Will rub your back or your arm during conversations

Will brush a hair back from your face every now and then

But he’s not just doing these things to remind you that he loves you

No no

He is also doing these things so that whoever is hitting on him will take the hint

Like?? Shut up?? Go away??

And in the end, you forget that you were jealous and you’re more just irritated

Like quit saying weird things to my man

When they finally go away, you both look at each other with big eyes and sigh really loudly

But then you’re laughing because did that really just happen?

And he’ll tease you a little bit for being jealous before you both go back to talking about how creepy the other person was being

Low-key making fun of them; making up new ridiculous compliments that fit their vibe

“Oh, Yeosang! You know I’ve been a fan for oh so very long and I’ve loved watching your muscles grow!”

Discomfort pretty much forgotten, you just go about your night like that didn’t even happen

San:

Okay this fool

He thinks you’re really cute when you’re jealous so he’s gonna make it worse

Will be super sugary sweet with whoever is flirting with him

Thanking them and complimenting them back

Too bad the compliments are empty and he’s only using them to make you pout a little more

Eventually he ends the conversation because he thinks you’ll catch on to his evil plan if he keeps this up much longer

Drags you away into a quieter area of the event

“Were you jealous?”

He’s smirking because I mean… duh

“You were doing that on purpose weren’t you?”

If looks could kill he would be belly-up in the pool rn

But then he’s laughing and apologizing and trying to justify himself

“I mean how could I resist when it makes you look like this cute baby oooo”

Full squishing your cheeks in public like… sir

But he does it enough that you’re smiling again and batting his hands away from your face

When he realizes that he was successful in returning your mood back to normal, he’ll pull you back into the party

Mingi:

Does not realize you are jealous

Oblivious

Carries on the entire night like everything’s cool

Totally didn’t participate in mutual groping with some random fans

An awkwardly placed hand

An accidental brush against the wrong body part

I mean you know its not his fault

But ooooohhh did it make your blood boil

Literally doesn’t even mention it until you’re home because he genuinely doesn’t think anything happened

And you’re like??? Hello???

You touched their butt???

And then his face goes so red

Like you think for a second he’s gonna explode like those old airheads commercials

“I TOUCHED THEIR BUTT???? THATS SO EMBARASSING NOOOOOOOO”

But then you’re laughing at him because he is more horrified at the situation than anything else

He face plants on the couch and just yells into the cushions for a minute because my god how could he not realize

#mortifiedmingi

And then you’re the one comforting him explaining how the fan surely knows it was an accident and blahblahblah

But at least there was an easy solution to your problem lmao

Wooyoung:

I think that he will actually be concerned

Like if he realizes that you’re jealous he’s gonna think that he did something wrong

Even if its someone else’s fault that you were feeling that way

Hes gonna feel responsible

And he’s gonna wanna make you feel better

Will make some excuse about one of you not feeling well and hightail it out of there

When you tell him you didn’t have to leave the event just because of that he’s like Nono

And he’s gonna spend the rest of the night giving you his undivided attention and making sure you feel loved and cherished

Like I think he is gonna be genuinely worried about how this kind of thing will make you feel

Always wants you to feel safe and secure in your relationship

Never wants anything to damage your self esteem either

So if he thinks any of those things are in jeopardy, he’s gonna do something about it

Might tease you for it sometimes, but darker. emotions are something he tends to be gentler with and more serious about

Jongho:

Does not get the memo

Jealous? Who?

Has to be told by the members lmao

And sees you sulking somewhere away from him

Then he’s rushing to you like a confused puppy

Sits with you quietly for a minute because he doesn’t even really know what to say

“I feel like a bad boyfriend now” is what he chooses to open with

And then youre not jealous anymore

youre in protective mode

“Noooo, baby, why would you ever feel like that youre the best boyfriend ever”

And then he’s like??? Thought you were upset???

And you’re like… maybe

But who cares? Because he’s still a good boyfriend

I mean you know he cant babysit you at events and stuff and youre always happy when he’s having fun

Youre just a little selfish sometimes and want him all to yourself

But who can blame you?

And he completely understands because… well he feels the same way about you <3

[leerongrong]

Your Baby?

Pairing: Nct Dream x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: You and Mark have been best friends ever since childhood, staying by each others’ side even after he became a Worldwide Idol. When he finally introduces you to his members, who think you’re older than you actually are, what a mistake.

A/N: my first fic lmao i’m soo nervouss, also shout out to my girl @neoculturalshit​ for handling my shit while writing this

Shoe sole squeaking fills the air with the constant jagged breaths and stuffy humidity coming from the room, intensified with multiple voices mixing in with groans. Mark’s rambles are like mumbling in your ear, replaced with constant buzzing like bees and an unfamiliar feeling resting in your belly. Your bag is on your left shoulder, clutched between stiff fingers as you try to keep up with his fast footsteps.

His twelve a.m to twelve p.m schedule and your eight a.m to eleven p.m schedule proved hard enough keep up with. In between his dance practices, studio recording and your everyday micro engineering studies, there was only little time to catch the other without one having to run off in between hangouts. And even then, Mark always had the dreamies call on him about some unforeseen circumstances that’ll make him leave you all alone.

He’s been apologizing ever since the last time he left you, albeit in a super creepy rooftop at midnight, and wouldn’t stop until you brought on the idea of introducing the dreamies as an apology and here you are now, in SM entertainment heading straight to the practice room where you’ll meet them for the first time. And on the contrary, you feel more scared than excited.

“And there’s Chenle. He’s like realllyyy loud but like really funny and he has this dolphin laugh that’ll make you- Are you even listening right now?”

“Mark, i’m scared.” Saying it out loud makes you feel like a baby, some helpless child afraid of going to their first day of kindergarten, afraid they won’t have any friends or anyone to talk to. You’re embarrassed for feeling this way but right now you have Mark and he knows you. The best out of everyone in your whole life, “what if they don’t like me?”

“They’ll love you,” he chuckles, “If anything, you’ll be the one begging Chenle to shut up.”

Your entire walk there had remained quiet, an occasional quip here and there from Mark whenever he sees you still so stiff. He had done a good job at getting rid of your initial fear, the feeling reducing until all that’s left is jitters and a bit of shyness. Despite your previous fear of them, you still wanted to meet them and become friends, it doesn’t matter if one of them doesn’t like you, you’d at least add one more person to your mark’s-friends-that-became-yours-too list.

“You stay here, aight? I’m gonna gather them first.” He nods to your direction before opening the door and going inside. You hear him greet multiple people, the noise inside exploding with screams and laughter. The nerves come at full force and suddenly your feet feel like jelly and the constant reassurance from mark has lost its grip on you.

The weather outside has calmed down significantly. The storm has reduced itself to raindrops pelting down the window, the constant patter doing nothing to calm you down. Your heart is beating erratically inside your chest and you have to thank Mark for his timing because you feel you’d have burst if he hadn’t come out faster.

All eyes are on you the moment you step in.

Multiple lights shine down the wide room, creating an illusion that it’s bigger than it already is. Gray walls surrounding the space loom high and act as pillars to hold up the entire architecture. your eyes move to the corner where there are an abundant of water bottles looking as if they were thrown messily along with multiple bags, one you recognize as Mark’s.

You’re broken out of your trance when mark leaves your side and crosses the room to the corner, effectively grabbing his bag and water bottle from where they lay. You see him exchanging a few words with the choreographer before he makes a beeline for the door just behind you.

“Where are you going?” You snatch his bicep in a tight grip, frowning when you see him slowly chuckle.

“I have a recording session with the hyungs,” he mumbles, “But i’ll be back in 3 hours?”

Mark flinches when your grip tightens, said boy visibly shrinking under your gaze. “mark lee, i swear-”

“They’re really nice! i promise!”

“I don’t care if they’re nice or whatever. You’re not leaving me-”

“Noona, watch us dance!” The voice breaks you and Aark from your whispering match. You turn your head, only to have Mark break away from your grip and run out of the room at full speed leaving you to stare at his retreating form with a face full of disbelieve. “Don’t worry about hyung, he’ll be back soon!”

The dreamies all surround you, each one introducing themselves in their own unique way. Your heart’s still beating erratically as you try to learn and differentiate their names and personalities, making a mental note in your brain; Jeno’s the shy one with an adorable eye smile, Donghyuck or Daechan is the tan one with a knack for jokes, Renjun’s a little shorter than the others with the sharp mouth, Jaemin’s the one with weird blue hair, Jisung’s the youngest but the tallest, and Chenle’s the one who called you noona.

The jitters and nerves melted away completely in the first hour, the boys doing a good job in including you with them. They told you funny stories about Mark, about when they first debuted, they even went into a detailed explanation about how they knew your name from Mark and how they’ve asked him multiple times to introduce you to them. They insisted you didn’t need to reintroduce yourself because they pretty much already know everything there is, courtesy of Mark. Well almost everything.

Jeno, Jaemin, and Hyuck had decided early on to call you by your first name, the three agreeing that you’re roughly around their age. While on the other hand, Renjun, Jisung, and Chenle had decided to call you noona. You don’t consider yourself to look mature for your age and you certainly didn’t think any of them would be calling you noona, when in reality you’re younger than Jisung.

‘Do i really look that old?’ The annoyance is simmering in you at the thought, little bits of it breaking to the surface when you pout and cross your arms while you watch the boys goof around after finishing their routine. The thought of them thinking you were older leaves an unpleasant feeling in your mouth.

“Time for revenge.”

The multiple shoe screeching in the room had lessened a significant amount, the boys having done their practice and are currently playing a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’ll be buying food. You watch from across the room as Renjun walks to the corner to pick up his water. “Renjun-ah! Can i have some water too?”

You giggle to yourself when he crosses the room to give you some from his bottle, the boy completely oblivious to your sneaky intentions. “Thank you, Renjun-ah.”

“Noona!” Chenle’s shrill voice is something you’ve gotten used to both before and after officially meeting him. Mark’s always let you listen to snippets of their unreleased songs and you’ve been able to recognize their voices for years to help with giving your inputs and comments. “Can we go to the store?”

“Why’d you need to ask me?” You cut yourself off before opting to rearrange your choice of words. “I mean, you can go if you want? I’ll stay here to wait for Mark.”

“We didn’t want to leave you alone!” he smiles, “but it’s okay, Jeno hyung and Jaemin hyung are gonna go for us!”

You watch as Jaemin and Jeno gather up their shoes and put on masks, the two chatting around with the other members for a bit and your heart clenches when you see Jaemin squishing Donghyuck’s cheeks, the latter shooing Jaemin’s hands away before pushing them out the door. “Adorable.”

Donghyuck’s gaze is on yours the second the words drop from your mouth and he sticks his tongue at you when he sees you looking at him, a teasing gesture the two of you have adapted. You’ve been acquainted with Donghyuck for the last two months, the two of you starting out awkward before one day, he had stuck out his tongue at you and now you’re always sticking tongues out at the other for no apparent reason, something Doyoung doesn’t approve of.

“Donghyuck oppa, lemme pinch your cheeks.”

Your response is a perfectly trimmed eyebrow raise, “Oppa? We’re like the same age tho?”

“Chenle-yah, let noona pinch your cheeks!” You ignore Donghyuck’s statement in hopes of not blowing your cover, smiling brightly when Chenle comes over and plops himself right in front of you. His cheeks are like mochi in your hands, the skin all dewy, soft to the touch that you have to remind yourself to stop squishing before you become addicted. “Gosh, Chenle, you’re too cute. Like a baby!”

Jeno and Jaemin get back just in time, multiple managers and choreographers burst into the room just moments after them, stopping by to check on their progress. Long hours have ticked away while the sun sets, casting its golden rays and warm hue through the window and into the room. the air is filled with low chatters and you’re in a conversation with Jeno when the door opens again.

“Hey everyone-” 

You recognize the voice to be Johnny’s but his next words are muffled from multiple footsteps coming into the room at once, some faster and bolder while others are quiet and dainty. You’re listening as they increase from slow steps into full out sprints and you don’t react quick enough and you shriek when you feel someone heavy crash onto your back, making you face plant to the hard floor, them tumbling down with you

“Mark, really?” Doyoung nags before turning towards you, “Hello, little bugs.”

“Noona, look. Mark hyung’s back.” The minute those words fall from Jisung’s lips, the person on your back, who you realize to be Mark, looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. The air turning awkward for moments until two laughs explode from somewhere behind you and he joins in.

“Noona?” Johnny laughs, “Jisung, she’s younger than you by months!”

Both Chenle and Jisung launch onto their feet, crowding beside you and Mark. You try to push Mark off of you while looking at the two boys and how their mouths are moving so fast you don’t understand what they’re saying, while the expressions on their faces make you laugh along with Johnny and Doyoung.

“Yah! I’ve been your Oppa the whole time?!”

“Call me Oppa!”

“Jisung you’re a few months older than I am! And you’re a babie.”

“Well you’re a babie too!”

“This is disrespectful!”

The room bursts into chaos as each of them try to convince you to call them Oppa, Hyuck and Chenle protesting the most out of the six. The laughs and giggles echo throughout as Doyoung and Johnny shake their heads and watch from afar, smiling fondly at the way you’re slowly blending in with the dreamies. Mark’s hand is on yours for a while, the emotions in his eyes too misty for you to read until he grins. “Told you they’d love you.”

Your laugh is airy and full of emotion, “Yeah and its all thanks to you.”

[doctormomwriter]

Moonlight Part 2--AEW

A few hours passed and it seemed half of us had cleared out after dinner. We opened presents and I hugged and held back drunk tears as I opened everything. I was amazed at how well everyone knew my personality. I got journals and felt tip marker pens, Hello Kitty decor, a mirror shaped like a coffin, and Britt got me my favorite color lipstick from Black Moon Cosmetics. I was a lucky girl. The band was playing upbeat dancing toons and Britt suggested the remainder of us go out there and dance before last call.

"Honey, I can't dance." I giggled and leaned my head on her chest. I had to squat down to her height.

"You don't have to know how to dance if you hang onto my shoulders, Honey." MJF pulled me off Britt and into his chest. I let out a small 'oof' as I collided to his body.

Wardlow who barely spoke to me all night unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. He aggressively looked away from me. I was not able to move quick enough, damn vodka.

"Actually, I was hoping I could head to bed. Thank you for everything, Britt." I kissed her on the cheek and tried to hobble away.

Britt seemed like she got an evil idea. "Wait a sec, Ivy." She said pulling me back to her.

"Hey Maxie, that girl by the bar has been oogling you all night." Britt nodded her head in the direction of a red headed girl who licked her lips at his sight.

"Say no more ma'am" MJF ran off rather quickly.

"Oh Doc, you can't go home drunk like that. You need someone to drive you!" She said loudly.

"Why are you...talking so loud?" I felt my body swaying back and forth.

"Hey Wardlow, do you think you could drop Ivy off at her hotel?" Britt yelled acrossed the room.

Wardlow was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Looking at MJF hitting on the bar girl and rolling his eyes with a smile. He gave him a thumbs up.

"Yeah, that is not a problem. I am going to head to bed too." He walked over to me and extended his arm for me to hold. "Miss, if you would do me that honor." He said in a fake southern accent.

I snorted laughing so hard. Taking his arm and leaning my head on his bicep as we walked out. Thank god for Britt. He smacked me on the ass as we left and gave me a nonchalant wink. By the time we made it to Wardlow's truck I was feeling more tipsy than flat out drunk, but I still felt a little silly. He was not talking like he usually does. Sometimes when we walk and talk or if he is in the exam room he will tell me funny things or we talk about books or movies. I liked that, it was never just small talk with him.

"Michael, are you okay?" We had hopped into his car and my head was still on his arm. my cheek squished to his muscles.

"Yeah Doc, why?" He sounded more cold than ever.

"I just was checking. I'm not a good psychiatrist, but I can tell something is in the air with you tonight." I giggled.

He could not help but smile and laugh at my slurring of speech. The delicate Blueridge twang in my words.

"Actually, can I be honest with you?" He paused but I nodded my head in reply. "I feel like I can be honest with you, after all there is HIPPA and all and if you want to be my shrink you cannot tell anyone, right?" I pulled myself off at him and looked up with my glossy brown eyes. "I like this woman, but I also know that my best friend likes her even though he doesnt intend on keeping her for long. Or atleast, I do not think he would do her any respect. He is not the best kind of person in the dating world."

"Oh, okay. Well, does the girl like him?" I asked feeling sick to my stomach.

"I think she is nice to him because she is nice to everyone. It is hard to tell though." He cleared his thoat. "Anyway, I do like her. I kind of feel intimidated by her though. She is smart and tougher than nails and she is stunning." I felt sicker now knowing he could not mean me... "I want to ask her on a date, but I also feel like I would ruin my friendship with M, I mean my friend, if I ask her, or worse she may not want to talk to me again."

At this point I could not hold my emotions back. A tear rolled down my cheek as we parked at the hotel.

"I think she would be the luckiest girl ever to have you. You are really a great guy and so sweet and funny and handsome, and tall! You're...You're like a mountain or tree.. But in a suit! I uhm... I have to go, but Goodnight." I ran up to my room.

I heard him call my name but, I could not bare to face him knowing that my crush was nothing more than that. He did not feel the same. I heard a knock on my door and it was him.

"Ivy, you forgot your presents... can I come in?" I opened the door for him. Wiping my eyes before he could see me.

"Oh my god, silly me. I drank a good bit tonight. I am sobering up though. Come in.." I opened the door wider.

**to be continued!**

[bowieandqueen11]

Remember When / Hargreeves Imagine

Request: Love ur writing btw!! I have a Great idea for a Diego fic! Can u do his siblings somehow finding tapes/videos from the mental asylum Diego was in and seeing how badly he was tortured and abused. Then he has a panic attack or something at the end and they comfort him. 

I-ugh anon omg - my heart <3

Warning, some strong language, and also some descriptions of abuse, so please don’t read if it will make you uncomfortable!

Comments and reblogs are so so so appreciated, as this took me honestly way to long XD! Thank you!!

‘Way to go. Real Team Zero back there.’

‘Diego, we’ve already been through this. Dad’s a stubborn prick, as he has been, all our sad lives, yada yada, we’re sorry, okay? We should have known he’d still be the same condescending asshole’, Klaus replies, waving his hands in the air as he climbs the stairs back up to Elliot’s apartment. Rubbing his left eye with his hello tattoo, he uses his right to try and fumble a blunt out of his pocket, clenching it between his teeth. As he feels Luther’s footsteps pound up the rest of the way and jog past him to the landing, he can’t quite seem to light it - his fingers are still trembling too hard from the pain of Ben stealing his body in the way he did.

Running up the stairs after him, Diego leaves behind the rest of his shell shocked siblings. Instead he focuses on tucking in the corners of his shirt back into his pants, trying to do anything to stop himself focusing on Reginald and the tears that still threaten to prick at the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t even notice when he walks head first into Klaus, until he has put a hand out and gripped onto his shoulder to stop them both from tumbling back down the stairs like bowling balls and straight into Allison.

‘You, brother, are an idiot. And a fat lot of help’, he smirks, sadly, gently slapping Klaus on his cheek.

‘Rude’, Klaus shrugs, winding his way towards the kitchen and kicking off his shoes in the process, looking for some Vodka to steal.

Allison hops quickly out of the way of the incoming shoes, used to his antics by now, and instead comes to settle next to where Vanya has plodded herself down on the sofa. Fiddling with her oversized jumper, a far away look on her face, Allison places a comforting hand on her bicep and gives her a sorrowful smile.

‘What do we do now?’, Vanya murmurs out as Luther squirms uncomfortably on one of Elliott’s wooden chairs. He ignores the beeping of the machines behind his head, instead swallowing thickly.

‘We, uh... wait for Five, I guess.’

‘No no no, right now, the most important thing we can do to try and change the world, is save JFK.’

‘Ughh we’ve been through this a million times! That’s not how it works Diego!’, Klaus calls from the kitchen, only a cloud of smoke trailing out from behind the wall and filling the room with both a stagnant smell of weed, and a light fog that seems to dampen the small amount of sunlight filtering through the askew blinds, which Elliott had been taking photos through earlier this morning.

‘Look, I get that you’re on some big crusade to prove something to dad, but this is not helpful right now.’

‘We all need to stick together and stop this thing’, Allison chimes in, desperation in her voice.

Luther’s interrupted from his continuing thoughts by a small squeak out of Vanya, following her eyes from where they are trained to a spot on the rug.

‘Oh my god... is that blood? Is someone bleeding?’

‘Holy shit.’

He gets up then, following the trail, beckoning his sisters to stay behind him with his hands until he reaches the dentistry chair at the edge of the landing, grimacing slightly as he turns to swivel it towards him with a squeak. He feels Klaus bump into one side of him, and Diego hit onto his other elbow, a rusty kitchen knife raised and ready, and a look of almost determination on his face, as if he had just been waiting for something awful to happen, just another chain of bad events so he knew his life was back onto its normal tracks.

‘Oh noooo’, Klaus groans, cupping his hands over his mouth as Elliott’s body turns to face them, a knife planted firmly in his eye.

Turning away from the tortured body of his friend, Diego swallows thickly, dropping his knife to the floor and placing an arm over his stomach. None of his siblings really notice, all of them looking over the dead body aghast, wondering, pained that they were the ones who caused something like this. None of them noticed the shake in his hand as he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the bile back down his throat again. 

Klaus, however, did notice something. However, sadly for Diego, it was not the right thing - not the signs of shock, anxiety, or guilt that flashed over his brother’s face - the signs of PTSD he would have been the most adapt at noticing in the room. No, instead Klaus looked past poor Elliot’s head, towards a blinking static screen that kept flashing blue and black on a nearby desk, left abandoned underneath the shutter shots of the rest of them by Five.

‘Hello there, what might you be?’

Leaving the rest of them, he fumbled with the buttons on the old TV, trying to shake it out of his head how eerily familiar this seemed to dear old dad’s surveillance system. Hitting any button he can find in vain, he throws his blunt out of his mouth and flicks it across the room, slamming the control panel with the fist of his palm, until his pointer finger somehow managed to falter and hit play on the tape left inside.

Never before had Klaus noticed how much time is like water, that it can drip by in front of his eyes so slowly, or even freeze with each new frame. The past few minutes had passed by as if he had watched a thousand frames per second, too slow to be normal, so unusual. He turns to try and point to his siblings, but his jaw is still so slack and he finds he can’t move his fingers properly. Shock, that’s what they call it, shock, he thinks to himself, fighting to get his words out so they don’t trail out.

There is a sadness in his eyes, the glass green too glossy when he finally turns to his siblings and manages only to feebly point at the screen.

For the first time, since his mouth had been wired shut as a teenager, Klaus was at a loss of words.

This grabbed the attention of his siblings, who crowded over to join him and peer intently at the screen - all except foe Diego, who stayed hovering at the edge of the group.

The screen lights up again, showing an empty room, one without proper handles, only sheets of smooth metal as makeshift windows for staff to peer through. There’s no bed, no mattress on the cold floor, just emptiness, isolation, silence, for the man who sits in the centre of the floor in pure white. They recognise from the shaggy hair and the wild beard that it’s there brother almost immediately.

'You were in an Asylum? What for?’, Vanya asks.

‘For trying to save the President’, Diego manages to mutter, unable to look any of them in the eye. ‘For doing what needed to be done.’

He’s interrupted by himself, the small version of him on the tape muttering to himself, rocking back and forth. ‘I am not enough, I can’t do it, I’m not good enough. You’ll never be number one, never.’  

The door swings open then. In his intense silence, Diego somehow screamed with his whole body. The eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, his chalky face gaunt and immobile as the doctor approached him with the needle.  

‘Please! Not the needle!’, he begs and cries. ‘Please!’

Luther’s the first to turn round and look at his brother. The first to finally look, to finally see him, how defeated he looks, for the first time since they all landed in that alleyway.  It's the look that he gives Diego. Those pale blue eyes, probing into his soul, desperately wanting to see what's going on in there. That look, it just tore Diego apart, piece by piece, and although it wasn’t his fault, he found himself deeply unsettled, deeply angry at him, at all of them, so suddenly.

‘W-w-what? What are you looking at a-a-ss-’

An invisible hand clasps over his mouth and stops his words from escaping, an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline piercing his heart, making it contort and expand until it feels just about ready to burst. His ribs heave uneasily, and Allison’s afraid he’s about to pass out, Klaus rushing forward, biting his lips. Diego only wants to run, but needs to freeze. All he can do, instead, is fall to his knees, and allow four pairs of hands to catch him before his face hits the floor.

A single tear slides down from his warm, butterscotch eyes, followed by another one, and another one, until soon, a steady stream of salty tears flowed it's way down his cheek, releasing the sadness and sorrow that has been held inside of him for all this time but still he did not make a sound. His siblings made the noise for him, warm, comforting little nothings, telling him it was going to be okay, he didn’t have to go back, they were going to do it, save the world. Save themselves.

The hand appeared from nowhere and tightened on his wrist, white knuckled, strong, until Luther had pulled him against his chest, and the others had gently fallen to their knees too and placed their arms around his back as best as they could. Klaus was half leaning over Allison’s leg, and Vanya in turn was completely squished, face first, against his chest, but somehow they made it work.

There is the hug of gentle arms that still gives you the space to breathe, like the ones Grace used to give Diego after a mission. Shutting his eyes, he realises he isn’t used to this type, the kind of hug with strong arms that tells everything that your are - body, brain and soul - that they are with you. 

They stay like that for a while, the five - well, the six of them, as Ben places his arms around his siblings as well, even if they can’t feel him. The six of them, battered, afraid, neglected, and yet, not alone. They huddle there together, embracing each other and crying and just allowing themselves to be open, to be vulnerable with each other, to realise their dad wasn’t there and they didn’t have to go through this alone anymore. 

Tears were wiped and sobbing laughs were shared, and even Five, when he blipped back into the room, saw the set of his siblings hugging on the floor and felt a pang of loneliness and love for his crazy family ring out in his heart that he joined them, if only for a second.

From then they weren’t numbers anymore. They weren’t even siblings. They were more, Diego said with a smile. They were Team Zero.

[kookoosbunnynose]

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Crack, Established Relationship

Warnings: Cursing | Love fueled bickering | Jungkook sneaks a peek at dat ass

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: The one in which you’re a youtuber and get requests to do a cringey couple tag, where your boyfriend dresses you in his clothes. 

A/N: Hello! Instead of doing the thing where I actually write my series that I started not too long ago, I was struck with inspiration at like 3 am last night to write this small nugget of fluffy garbage. I hope you enjoy nonetheless. 

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“Hello friends! Welcome back to… this.” You say smiling into your camera lens promptly after setting it up. Despite the year or so you’ve been making videos, you have yet to establish a proper intro. “You’ve been asking me nonstop to do the ‘My Boyfriend Dresses Me in His Clothes’ tag. Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue well, does it?” You chuckle. “Ever since I revealed him a couple months ago the only videos of mine that do the best are the ones where he’s in them.” You roll your eyes. “C’mon guys! I know he’s hot but I’m entertaining too, right?- Actually don’t answer that… Nevertheless, you requested so here it is!”

You space for a second collecting your thoughts and fixing your hair for at least the hundredth time since pressing record. All standard procedure.

“Alright before I call him in here, there’s a few things I think you guys don’t understand.” You say widening your eyes. “First of all, he is quite a bit bigger than me.” You stand up from your chair and raise a flat hand a number of inches above your head, for emphasis. “Second of all...” You take your seat. “he wears the most oversized clothes! Like big! He could wear a medium normally but he likes triple and quadruple XL’s for the ‘aesthetic’” You mock. “What aesthetic is that supposed to be, Jeon?” You say in the direction of your office door. “A fucking garbage bag?” You say annoyed, even though you quite enjoy his style. You love your stupid twinkly-eyed garbage bag. 

“Well I should get him in here, huh? That would help. He doesn’t know this is what I’m filming today.” You ramble to yourself. “Babe!”

No response.

“My love!” You raise your voice a little.

Still nothing.

“Oh for fuck sake. JUNGKOOK!” 

The door knob turns. “You rang?” He says half a question half a statement, popping his head in the room and waving when he sees the camera is on. A smile on his lips.

“The lovelies have a request for you, Sir.” 

“Should I be scared?” He kisses your cheek, as he crouches to next to you to fit in frame.

“No need to be scared.”

“Are you sure? I read your comment section.” He quirks a brow in your direction. “I’m not stripping or sitting on anyone’s face.” 

“Jungkook!” You laugh and smack his bicep.

“What?! I’ll edit it out.” He laughs.

You ignore his mischievous smile. “Okay you, my lovely boyfriend, are going to be making me an outfit with your clothes. Dress me like you would yourself. Think you can do that?” You ask running a hand through his hair. He recently cut off quite a bit of his hair he’d been growing out and you were still getting used to having your coconut headed cutie back. 

“Sounds easy enough.” He smiles, mind already racing with ideas. 

He straightens his legs and walks over to your shared closet and disappears from view after crossing it’s threshold. You can’t see him anymore but you can hear him mumbling and making small noises to himself as he looks over his wardrobe. After a few seconds of silence you can hear his giggling.

“Don’t you dare pick the camo set! You wore that approximately one time!” You preemptively scold him.

“Hey! You asked me to dress you! Don’t tell me what to do!” He retorts, his voice slightly muffled from the various fabrics surrounding him. 

You roll your eyes. “Fine! You’re the boss.” 

He returns after a few minutes with a small pile of clothes in each hand, careful not to reveal too much to the camera.

“I made you two ‘lewks’ if you will.” He makes himself laugh. “One is a lazy everyday fit; the second is a little more fun, kind of a ‘let’s get drinks and then have to uber home’ look.” He smiles at you. 

“Aw, you picked out two? Thank you Kookie.” You smile and lean onto your toes to peck his lips. 

You take the clothes to the bathroom to change into and Jungkook takes your seat, checking his hair in the viewfinder. After a few seconds he looks over his shoulder, smiling. He looks into the camera and raises a finger to his lips, as if to tell future viewers to be quiet, and disappears from the camera sights.

“Nice ass babe.” He laughs as he opens the door only to see you halfway through getting changed; in just your bra and underwear. 

“Jungkook!” You shriek and close the door. “The camera is on! And you’re gonna ruin the surprise!” You laugh at his teasing.

“I’m only kinda sorry!” He chuckles and sits back down at the camera. 

When you’re done getting changed you look in the mirror; adjusting your boyfriend’s hat on your head. Huffing and laughing at yourself before you make your way back to your filming location.

“Are you ready?” You ask from the hallway.

“Yes!”

You open the door and stand there, arms at your sides and back stiff as a board. He picked out an oversized grey carhartt t-shirt, baggy black joggers and a plain black bucket hat. The shirts short sleeves falling most of the way down yours arms, falling just before your wrist; the bottom of the shirt falling at your knees. The pants fit well in the hips but had a bunch of extra fabric at your ankles because of their length. Your eyes were covered by the bucket hat, it’s rim brushing against the tip of your nose. 

“Is this what you wanted motherfuckers? I can’t see!” You say raising your arms and flapping your new bat wings.

Jungkook laughs with his head thrown back. “You look so cute!”

“I look like I could go paragliding using only the clothes on my back.” You say pulling the fabric at your sides revealing the width to be three times yours. 

“That’s the goal, always be prepared.” He says standing, and rolling the excess fabric hanging down your body between his finger tips.

“Do you live your life ready to jump from absurd heights at any moment?” 

“Don’t we all?” 

“I’m afraid that’s just a you thing, my love.” You chuckle and rub his arm. “Oh my god WAIT!” You say as you squat and pull your arms into the shirt, effectively putting your entire body in the shirt with ease.

He just laughs at the joy you’re getting from his clothes and uses his strength to pick up your balled up form off the floor into his arms. You do your best to wriggle your arms free of their cotton cage to take the hat off and lazily place it on his head.

“Next outfit!” You exclaim extending your legs; he gets the hint and lets you put your feet back on the floor. You waddle out of the room flapping your stupid wings on the way back to the bathroom. 

You emerge from the hallway in one of his plain white t-shirts -it’s form fitting for him but hangs nicely off your smaller frame- tucked into a pair of ripped blue skinny jeans. You struggled to get the jeans over your ass due to his narrow hips but once you did they hugged you rather nicely, apart from the bunched up extra length at your ankles, like the last pair. You decided to tie the grey plaid button down he provided you, around your waist. And to top it all off his black leather jacket he wears nearly every time the two of you do more than just grocery shop. 

“Oh shit! Fuck it up Kenneth! Fuck it up!” He chants as your strike a few dumb poses. “I’m a little annoyed that you look hotter in that than I do.” He chuckles, placing the hat back on your head as the proverbial cherry on top. 

“Sorry ‘bout it baby.” Punctuating your sentence with a smack to your ass, and an exaggerated smirk. “Alright boys and girls.” You say sitting on Jungkook’s lap. He holds your jaw, squishing your cheeks slightly and presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Perhaps next time I’ll dress him in my clothes, but for now, that’s the end of the video. Do good things! Bye!” You say and you both blow a kiss at the camera, before ending the recording. 

After the camera is shut off, you turn to your boyfriend. “I hope you know that now that I know how comfy that shirt is I’m stealing it all the time. It’s our shirt now!”

“No arguments here.” He chuckles, stealing a kiss and smiling against your lips. 

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In The Wake of her Shadow: Part 2

TAP TAP TAP TAP

“The sound.  That awful, tapping sound.  That driving, piercing, almost mind numbing sound of metal on metal, teeth to bone, what is that.  Gods be damned.  Its Rhythmic. “

TAP TAP TAP TAP

“Why does it mock me?  Why is it there? Why wont it leave? Who is that!”

TAP TAP TAP TAP

“It is there again.  What is it! Why is it there? Gods be damned why cant I see!”

TAP TAP TAP DRIP

Some sounds are often amplified by the extreme given the situation, the location and the amount of vibration echoing from wall to wall.  The Oubliette down in the darkest regions of the Bastille was something that only those who were destined for great things would see. 

Sound traveled forever here.  Or to the mind of someone who had been secured there for several days without food or water; without anything outside of their own thoughts, to that person, Sound was the most terrifying beast in existence.

Strung by his arms; rusted links of saronite secured around each hand, there was a moderately handsome elf.  Or at least he was at one point.  He was chained to the ceiling, his ankles also secured to the floor.  From what it smelled like; it was a dank sewer.  The smell of musty water and iron were heavy here.  Almost over powering.

The prisoner could not see.  He was blindfolded and was only able to use his sense of hearing and smell to determine what was happening.  Again, sound being the greatest ally, but also the most horrific entity ever known.

The tapping sound came from the rats that were gnawing at the other bones of victims in other cells.  Their own chain links rattling against the bars where they had ultimately been left to rot.  There was no shame in this.  Dark actions meant dark consequences.

The dripping sound; well that was something entirely different.

The elven prisoner would start to feel an overwhelming sense of pain come surging into his body from the back; unbeknownst to him he had already had his clothing removed, there was a reason for the pain.  A large series of stitch marks went along both sides of his spine and neck; someone had already operated and repaired the tissue.

“HELLO!” 

He cried as his senses started to return to him.

“HELLO! SOMEONE?”

The response that would come was not only unexpected, but would also be dreadfully terrifying to hear.

“Good Evening Mister Morningstar, I trust you are beginning to regain some of the sensation to your brain?”

“Whose there! Who is that! What are you doing? Why am I---”

The voice again would shush him, softly; almost consoling him as if the current situation was nothing to fear.

“You will notice that your arms and legs are currently suspended from Saronite chains; you have been this way for over three days.  You will feel nothing in them.  Severing the nerves leading to your brain and spinal column, you have no sensation from your hips and shoulders to your extremities. They have already started to turn; the lose of blood to your arms and the tightness of the restraints on your feet.  You will soon notice the flesh begin to blacken and die off.  But you will not feel this.”

“What in the name of all the light are you talking about! HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP ME! GODS BE DAMNED HELP ME!”

Again the voice would silence the prisoner with a shushing sound.

“There are no mortals that can hear your cries Bartholomew.  This is important so you should probably pay attention.  The rats in this chamber do not get fed.  They expect to be anytime there is a visitor.  You will find that the severing of your nerves will be a good thing, but only goes toward. . .about here.”

The interrogator then reached out and lightly pinched the captive on his triceps, and again on his inner thigh.

“The sensation will begin to return the higher you go on your body.  Your abdomen, penis, testicles, pectoral muscles and organs.  These are still very much active and the pain receptors will register.  You should know Mister Morningstar; my goal is and always was to kill you.  I take great pleasure in this.  Pleasure because you. . .sir, have decided that your own benefits of life outweigh that of the people you hunt.  You’ve chosen to ally yourself with the demon of avarice itself, and will pay dearly for your mistakes.”

“I dont even know who you are, or what you are talk--”

“Raelyndia Duskhollow.”

There was silence again.  The sound of rats gnawing on the last bits of flesh from another corpse could be heard only feet away from them.  It drowned the sound of the chamber in its repetitive song.  The name alone was enough to silence the swinging elven captive.  The name was more than enough to enlighten him.  It was the calling card of his death.

“You know exactly why you are here.  You know what you have done.  And you know that you have taken your last steps basking in the glow of the morning sun.  Taken your last lung full of fresh sweet, autumn air in the gardens of Quelthalas.  You. . . my dear Mister Morningstar.  You have forfeited your life for hers.  And as such; it has been claimed.  And that debt is now ready for collection.”

There was silence yet again as the tapping sound of rats shaking chains consumed the elven mans mind.  He snapped, panicking and shaking the chains he was suspended from.

“I dont want to die here! Please gods, by the Light I will tell you anything! I only wanted the perks! It was beneficial to my House! The Gallows, they promised me tha--”

The voice once again brushed across his mind as the hissing sound of his shushing came through once again.

“The time for talk is all but over, Bartholomew.  While you were unconscious, I was able to dissect a portion of your memory from the hippocampus.  Securing what I needed deep within receptors of your neo-cortex.  You serve no purpose any longer.   I have the locations I need.  I have the names I have been seeking.  And from here out; you. . .my dear friend, are obsolete.”

The chilling reminder that usefulness was only as deep as the information provided soon wrought its ugly head for the captive man.  A sense of defeat, acceptance maybe? 

“What will happen to me. . .”

Footsteps softly padded along the floor, dry and hitting stone at first, but soon masked in a soft squishing sound that would indicate wetness.  Blood perhaps?

“Your cellmates will begin to devour the parts of your body that you currently have no feeling in.  The blood that has begun to entropy inside of the appendages will sustain them for a moment.  But the smell of rot will not stop them; but drive them further.  You will feel them as they devour your thighs and biceps.  As well as every other part of your body.  They will tire eventually.  Growing fat and full.  The saliva within their jaws carries with it a very dangerous toxin.  Most vermin have this.  You will mostly die of blood loss, hunger, fatigue and the infection that will soon follow their biting.  And after all of this, you will  suffer for as long as it takes; you will die here.  Alone, Cold, and aware that you have nothing left to give.”

The realization that there was no reasoning with this madman sunk in.  But it was not enough to deter the man from whimpering.

“I--I am sorry. . .”

The prisoner was then grabbed by the face.  Forefingers and thumb squeezing his cheeks closed as his head was steadied and the man who held him spoke.

“Do not patronize me with your pathetic attempts at redemption now.  You cost the lives of hundreds.  You cause suffering.  You cause fear and pain.  The blood of my people, my friends, my sister. . .is on your hands.  There is not a single word you could whimper to me that would ever convince me otherwise that you are nothing more than a spineless maggot.  And you would have gone on doing as you were; enacting and enabling those horrific acts to continue, had you not been caught red handed by me.”

“I don’t even know you. . .” 

The elven man cried pathetically as he whispered out the fact.

Suddenly the blindfold was ripped from the mans eyes; the flash of fire that caught his pupils from the torch behind the captors face blinded him.  When he focused his attention; a face of pale deathly white peered at him.  Veins of sickening black venom spiderwebbing from his nose, eye sockets and mouth.  They were accompanied by pits of empty blackness for eyes. 

“Then let my name be the last thing you think about before you are consumed by your villainy.”

He moved in closely and whispered softly into his ear; the touch that was accompanied on his cheek fading as the terrifying face and body slowly vanished.  It left the man speechless as the voice burrowed deep into his mind.��

“I am Lazarius Kash’ebahl. . . and we have returned. . .We are The Nine.”

Silence, Terror, Echos of madness.  Morningstar hung there in shock, his mind racing.  There was little he could do.  And as soon as he was alone; that familar sound returned.  And he screamed until his vocal chords bled; trying to drown out that insufferable. . .

TAP TAP TAP TAP. . .

[ashesonthefloor]

all that counts, is here and now (my universe will never be the same)

summary: Michael bumps into the cute pet store worker named Calum and develops a crush. hijinks and lots of pining ensue. did I mention this was a soulmate au? title taken from Glad You Came by the Wanted. part two can be found here, ao3 link here

content rating: PG-13 (cursing, a couple sex jokes because it’s Michael, and lots and lots of pining)

word count: 9488 in total with the second half

A/N: okay hello my long awaited fanfic is HERE. tumblr is homophobic so it’s split into two parts but both are completely done. big shoutout to both @clumsyclifford and @cliiffords for hyping me up. and ofc a major thank you to miss @calumcest who screamed w me about this and is reviving Malum w me. enjoy!

Michael was already running late. But Southy’s leash had broken five minutes into the walk, and he didn’t have a spare at home for him. So he stopped by the pet shelter that was, thankfully, right on his way. It was actually the same place he’d adopted Moose. He knew most of the workers - despite not being the biggest people person - and he got along with them quite well.

So it was that much more surprising when Michael grabbed his leash - green, to match the collar, Southy deserved to match - and headed up to the counter only to find a stranger. Correction, the most gorgeous, handsome, pretty, amazing stranger he’d ever seen in his entire life.

“Hi,” the stranger greeted in a surprisingly genuine customer service voice. “Did you find everything okay?”

“Uh,” Michael said, ever the eloquent speaker, as he shifted Southy slightly in his hold. “Yeah, thanks. Just needed a leash since Southy’s snapped.”

The stranger had just rung the leash up when he seemed to notice the dog. It was obvious when he saw him, because his face lit up and, if Michael was a sappy person, which he obviously wasn’t, he would’ve said his eyes sparkled. “Is this Southy?”

Michael nodded, shifting him yet again before holding him out to let the man pet him. It turned out to be the right choice as he watched him coo happily over the dog, letting Southy sniff his hand before giving him a good pet. The man - whose name was Calum, according to the name tag he was now at the right angle to notice - seemed to love dogs an awful lot for someone who worked with them.

“Hi, Southy. Are you enjoying your walk? It’s nice out today, I bet you are. I bet you’ll enjoy it more once your leash is all fixed,” Calum talked to the dog, before rubbing his head again before giving Michael another happy grin and god, Michael was pretty sure he was in love. His cheeks squished up when he smiled in a way that Michael had never seen before, and was confident he would never see again. Not only that, but it actually reached his eyes. He looks genuinely happy. “Thanks. I like getting to say hello to our real customers.”

Michael stared at him for just a beat too long before giving him a grin of his own. And maybe he was a little pink. Maybe. “Yeah, no problem. Southy’s pretty relaxed. I’m actually taking him to volunteer at a nursing home right now. Normally my friend is the one with him but I agreed to go this time.” Why did he tell him that? He talked too much.

Calum gave him another smile before smiling at Southy. “I’m sure he’ll be great at it. He seems like a good therapy dog. And just an all around good boy.”

Michael smiled a little more. Calum got it. “He’s trained to be that way.” He frowned suddenly. “Oh, fuck. I was already running late.” He pulled his phone out to glance at the time. “Oh fuck, now I’m really late.” He handed Calum some cash and took the leash when he handed it over. “Keep the change. Uh, nice to meet you, I’ve got to go.”

He turned and moved quickly towards the door, trying not to fumble in front of the cute stranger. He clipped the leash to Southy’s collar and hurried to the nursing home.

————————

As expected, Ashton wasn’t pleased with him for being so late. He’d given him the ‘we’re definitely talking about this later’ look, since he was with one of the residents and couldn’t exactly just start grilling him the way he wanted to. Which spared Michael the awkwardness of having to explain that his alarm hadn’t gone off and then Southy’s leash had broken - he still had no idea how that happened - and then he’d met the most handsome man he’d ever seen in his life who was going to be in his dreams for the next year at least.

“Do you want to explain why you were so late?” Ashton finally had a chance to ask when Southy was curled up on Ethel’s lap, her wrinkled hand shakily stroking his little head. Michael pulled his eyes away to look at Ashton.

“Not really.” Michael enjoyed being difficult sometimes.

“Okay. Explain why you were late and I had to keep everyone in the activity hall for an extra thirty minutes,” Ashton said, leaving much less room for argument. Michael was never sure if he hated it when he did that or if it was kind of amusing just how well he knew him.

“Sure, daddy.” Ashton aimed a kick at his leg, lowkey enough to be missed by the elderly residents. Michael managed to clumsily avoid it, dumb grin still on his lips. The nickname had come up at some point in their friendship and he’d never dropped it, much to Ashton’s chagrin. He was a little more resigned to it now, though he never really appreciated it. Especially at the place he was volunteering. With easily scandalized (probably, Michael wouldn’t really know) old people.

“So I got Southy and we left the apartment. And then his fucking-“ Ashton gave him a look. This was why Michael called him daddy “-leash snapped, so I had to stop by and get a new one. And then I met the love of my life. Ashton, he’s gorgeous. I’m pretty sure he could bench press me if he tried, he has the greatest biceps in the entire world. Better than yours, even. I know, we thought that was impossible. It’s not. And he wanted to pet Southy and he called him a good boy. So yeah, pretty sure he’s the love of my life and now I need to figure out how to propose. Is offering him my still beating heart a little outdated? Should I go with an engagement ring?”

Watching Ashton’s normally well-kept expression shift through like eight different emotions - and probably the four stages of grief - was just a testament to how ridiculous he was being. He considered it a personal achievement. His current record was nine different emotions. Of course, it was Ashton , so half of it was just in the eyes and eyebrows, but it counted.

“So he was cute?” Ashton finally answered, seeing through about nine layers of Michael’s descriptive, hyperbolic imagery. He wasn’t fun anymore.

“Very,” Michael agreed, glancing back over at Southy to make sure he was fine. He looked like he was living his best life with all the attention.

“And now you’re convinced he’s the love of your life?”

“Absolutely.”

Ashton nodded. “Three diamonds.”

“You think? I don’t want it to be flashy. Just something that says ‘hi, I’m in love with you, and your jawline is sharp enough to cut me, and I’d be honoured to let you bend me-”

“Michael,” Ashton warned, glancing over at Dorothy who was looking at them with some sort of amusement. At least she wasn’t scandalized? 

“Okay, okay. I’ll fill you in later, I guess, since you don’t love me.” Michael just gave him a small, dramatic little pout. Ashton was, unfortunately, immune.

“Or you can tell me how in love you’re in with this stranger now, minus all the graphic imagery,” Ashton pointed out, ever the reasonable party. Except when he liked someone. He was just as bad. Worse, Michael would say, but Ashton didn’t agree.

“Fine, fine. He’s gorgeous, Ashton. And he liked Southy. He called him a good boy.”

“Do you even know his name?” Ashton had been through all of Michael’s crushes on random strangers. 

“Calum,” Michael said, a little triumphantly, with a smug little smile.

“Does he know yours?”

Michael went to answer before pausing. He flushed a little. “Oh, fuck, I forgot to do that part. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even tell him my name.”

Ashton just looked at him for a moment. “Are you going to talk to him again?”

The obvious answer should’ve been yes, given that Michael was genuinely interested in getting to know him. And since he was the love of his life, of course. But he hesitated. It would seem weird to just start hanging around the pet shop now, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want to freak him out.

Ashton shook his head, clearly mildly exasperated by his best friend. “Alright, We’ll talk about it later.” He smiled, moving forward. “Ready for someone else to have a turn with Southy, Ethel?”

————————

“You should just talk to him if you like him that much,” Ashton said several days later, giving Michael a look that meant he really just knew him way too well.

“I don’t know. He probably forgot about me already.” Michael frowned, taking a bite of the pizza Ashton had been nice enough to order. He knew arguing with Michael was a bit pointless sometimes, so he’d learned to just give in and stop prolonging the inevitable. He loved him. 

“You won’t know unless you go see him. Besides, he still doesn’t know your name. What if he’s thinking about you too and hoping you swing by again?” Michael hated it when Ashton was reasonable. It was helpful, though. But he just liked being dramatic sometimes. 

“I don’t know...” Michael said, taking another bite of pizza. “How often do I really need to go to the pet store? Not that often. Wouldn’t it be weird if I just kept going? And what if he’s not there? There’s so many ways this could go wrong, Ashton, I can’t just keep going and hoping he’s there. That’ll kill my soul.”

“So you’re finally admitting you have one?” Ashton grabbed a slice of his own pizza - Michael still hadn’t managed to convince him that Hawaiian was the best, much to his own chagrin. Michael tried to punch his arm before letting out a much-longer-than-necessary-sigh and leaning back in his chair. “Really, Mikey, just go talk to him.” Ashton’s voice was much gentler this time, expression very knowing. Michael wasn’t sure if he hated it, or he appreciated it. “Tell him your name. Ask him out. I promise you it isn’t as scary as you think it is.”

Michael paused. “What if he says no? They have the best prices and they all know me. I can’t just switch pet stores to avoid him after he inevitably breaks my heart.”

“What happened to proposing? I thought he was the love of your life?” Why did Ashton have to have such a good memory? It was infuriating. “Seriously. Stop by, look at some dog toys, and see if he’s there. If he is, ask him on a date. It’s that simple. You won’t have to switch pet stores. He might say yes. If not, you just ignore him when you go in. It’ll be fine.”

Michael frowned. “Fine. Maybe. But first, I want to beat your ass in Call of Duty.” It wasn’t Michael’s favourite, but Ashton was horrible at it, so it was a little fun just to watch him struggle. They always ended up switching to Mario Kart or FIFA or something so Ashton’s little grandpa ass didn’t struggle so much. He was a nice friend. He loved him, really.

Ashton shrugged. “Sure. But I’ll just even the score later on.”

———————— 

Michael hesitated outside the door to the pet shop. He probably looked like a freak just standing there, trying to figure out whether it was worth it to go in or not. Eventually, he decided that it was. Maybe because he wanted to see his future husband again. Maybe because Ashton would keep annoying him if he didn’t. It was like a 60/40 split between the two.

He finally managed to work up enough confidence to actually go inside. He’d only stood there for a minute or two before he was greeted by the familiar customer service voice.

“Hi! Welcome to Paws and Claws. How can I help you?”

Michael turned to look at the absolute Adonis of a man who had occupied his thoughts since he’d first met him. He saw recognition on his face, and then Calum was smiling a little wider, a little more genuine.

“Glad to see you again! No puppy this time?”

“No,” Michael managed to get out. Had he fixed his hair before he came in? He didn’t think so. He really hoped he did. “He had to stay at home. I think he just wanted a nap.”

“What a shame! He was almost as cute as his owner.” Calum bent over to pick up a dog toy, and Michael definitely didn’t glance down. Calum walked over to put it away, and it wasn’t until then that his words registered and he flushed dark. “So what are you looking for?” Calum asked, looking over at him.

“Uh. They just need a new toy. One of them broke this morning.” Michael really needed to get his shit together. He was being embarrassing.

“Oh no! We can’t have that. What kind of toy do you want?” Why did Calum have to be so goddamn nice? Michael was dying. Or going to die. Or in the middle of dying.

“Anything, I guess. Southy and Moose really like to chew.”

“You have two dogs?” Calum beamed, looking at the array of toys to find a couple that would work.

“Yeah. Southy’s, uh, my ESA. And I wanted another one besides just him.” He wasn’t sure if he should say that. Some people were weird about it. Maybe Calum would think he was a freak now and would never accept his proposal.

“That’s sweet. Southy was really well behaved. And the more the merrier with dogs, I always say. I want another one.” Calum came back over to him. “Here’s some good ones! We’ve gotten some really good reviews on them, and we use them a lot for the dogs we have here.”

“You have a dog?” With how much Calum liked other people’s, he wouldn’t have expected that. It seemed like he was just getting his dog fix through other people. Interesting. “Oh, I only need one.”

Calum beamed. “Yeah. He’s staying with my sister since I just moved into a new apartment and had to work some things out with my landlord to let him stay. I miss him, though.” His cheeks did that cute squishy thing. Michael didn’t know how or why it happened but he was in love with it. “They’re buy one get one free right now. You could get a toy for each dog and make it fair.”

Michael nodded a little bit. “I get that. I get pretty upset if I’m separated from mine.” Poor Calum. He must really miss his dog. “That...yeah, okay.” He didn’t really need more toys. But Calum was a fantastic salesman so he couldn’t really turn him down. He’d already lied and said he needed toys, so why wouldn’t Calum try and sell him some? It made sense. It was fine. He’d just live in an apartment covered in dog toys.

“Perfect! I’ll ring you up.” He led him over to the counter with the toys, scanning both of them.

Now was Michael’s chance. He could tell him his name. And that he was in love with him. “Um. I’m Michael, by the way.”

Calum gave him a sweet smile. “I’m Calum.”

“I know. You’re wearing a name tag,” Michael pointed out. Which turned out to be the right thing to do since Calum flushed a little bit.

“Oh. Right. I forgot i was wearing it,” he said with an embarrassed little laugh. He gave Michael his total and Michael paid, taking the toys from him.

“You should bring your dogs by sometime. We have half off bathing next week.” He gave him another happy smile and gave him a flyer for the next week.

“Right. Yeah. I think I will. Moose could use a bath.”

Another smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

————————

“Isn’t he perfect?” Michael lamented to Ashton later on that evening. There was a long pause from the other side of the phone.

“He sounds great. Like you need to ask him on a date.”

“I can’t do that, Ash! I don’t even know if he likes me. And I can’t just ask him out while he’s at work. I’ll just have to love him from afar until I can propose.”

Ashton was quiet for a moment. “Just ask him out. It sounds like you really like him. More than all your other weird crushes. I think you should ask him out. Or at least see if he’d be interested in grabbing dinner or a coffee or something.”

Michael considered it. “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t want to rush things. He probably doesn’t like me. I’ve just been an idiot in front of him.”

“You’re an idiot in front of everyone. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.”

“But it probably does. He probably hates me.” Michael frowned. “You’re awful at comfort.”

“I know, it’s my main skill. Being horrible at comfort. I put it on all my resumés.” Michael could hear the smile in Ashton’s voice. He wanted to pretend it annoyed him. But the familiarity was kind of comforting.

“I’ve got to go, Mikey. But I’ll call you tomorrow, right? And you’re still working this weekend? I’ll see you then too.”

“Yeah, I am. Talk to you tomorrow, mate.”

————————

Michael slept in late the next morning. He always did on his days off. He groaned at the noise of his phone going off incessantly. He figured they’d stop calling. And really, there was only one person it could really be. Ashton was the only person that ever really called him. Because he was a fucking grandpa like that. Sometimes it was his mum but really, Ashton was more likely.

The third time he called, Michael finally picked up. “What?” He asked, sleepy and pissed about being woken up.

“Are you watching the news?”

“No. It’s fucking nine in the morning, who watches the news now? Old people. That’s who-“

“Michael, turn the TV on.”

“Ashton, it’s early-“

“I’m serious. You know soulmates?” Of course Michael did. Everyone had to hear about them. They were rare, but they existed. They were people who had what looked like tattoos, indicating who their soulmate was. Supposedly there were quite a few benefits, but no one could decisively say what they were for everyone, given that they were so rare there wasn’t much research they could do.

“No shit I do. What’s up with them?”

“Everyone has a soulmate now. Overnight, something happened. Everyone’s got tattoos and the entire world is up in flames trying to find their soulmate,” Ashton said, voice rushed. “There’s weird catches for some people. They’re saying- be quiet, just a minute.”

Michael’s eyes widened. Fuck. That was kind of a huge deal. He yanked the covers back - fuck, the air was cold. He regretted doing that immediately - and stumbled into the living room. He was pretty much entirely awake now, jolted into the life of the living by the news. He fumbled with the remote to turn the news on.

“-it seems that some people have tattoos of their soulmate’s names. But most people are getting tattoos representative of their soulmates. Something related to them, or something they treasure. There seems to be a catch, however, so that some people are only getting soulmate markings after meeting their soulmate. This is causing global panic as people begin to take time off to search for their soulmates-“

Michael stopped paying attention again. “Do you have one?” He practically demanded.

“I don’t know! I saw what was happening and called you first because I knew you were missing it.” Damn Ashton being a good friend.

“Well go look!”

“Aren’t you going to look for yours?”

“No, I already know I probably have, like, four. Everyone loves me. But you’re unlovable so it’s more important. I need to know it I was right about that.”

He could practically hear Ashton’s eye roll. The next time he spoke, it was echoey. He was in his bathroom. “I found mine,” he said, normally stable voice a little shaky. “It’s on my bicep.”

“Better than it being on your ass,” Michael pointed out.

“Yours will be on your ass if karma has anything to say about it,” Ashton quipped back.

“Hurry up. What is it?”

“It’s a lamington. It’s got writing on it, I think. Fuck. I can’t read it in the mirror.”

“You have a fucking lamington? Who loves lamingtons enough for that? Take a picture of it so you can see the words.” Which was a genius idea. Michael was a genius.

“Fine, give me just a-“

“Wait, don’t do that, just come over here and let me read it.”

There was a beat before Ashton answered. “What? Why? I can just find out now. What’s yours?”

“I haven’t looked yet. Just come over,” Michael practically pleaded. Not that he’d admit it.

Ashton seemed to recognize the tone of Michael’s voice, and that he wanted someone to be there when he looked. That he was scared he wouldn’t actually have a mark and everyone else would get their soulmates except for him.

“Fine. I’ll be there in ten.”

There was the click of the line as Ashton hung up and Michael was left alone again. The news reporters on the TV were the only thing filling the silence, still droning on about the ‘soulmate phenomenon’, as they were calling it. Michael didn’t care. He just wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he pulled his sweatshirt off and saw nothing but pale skin. He wasn’t going to have a soulmate mark. There was a heavy feeling in his gut that told him that. He wasn’t going to handle it well, and he’d ruin Ashton’s enjoyment of having a soulmate. He was an awful friend.

He was pulled out of his self deprecation By a knock at the door. And, dammit, why didn’t Ashton just walk in like Michael did? He walked over to the door to open the door and let Ashton in.

“I can’t believe you made me wait to figure out who my-“ Ashton started, only to be cut off by Michael.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for coming. How do you know where it is?”

“You mean what if it’s on your ass?” Damn Ashton and that smug little smile. He thought he was funny. And okay, maybe it was, but Michael had said it first.

“Fuck off. I mean really.”

“You look, Mikey. I didn’t just magically know where mine was. You have to go somewhere with a mirror and look. Since I’m here now you could just strip, but the mirror option might leave me with my sight intact.”

“Fuck off-“

“You said that already.”

“You’re not getting a strip show for free anyway.” So with that Michael made his way to the bathroom. Passive (and completely pretend) annoyance gave him the energy necessary to lock the door and strip off his sweatshirt. He looked at himself in the mirror, hair messy and sticking up everywhere, and bags under his eyes. Really, fuck Ashton Irwin - and the universe - for waking him up so early.

As far as he could see, there wasn’t a soulmate mark. Not on his neck, or his face. He was still in his shirt, rumpled from sleeping in it, and it made it harder. But he just had that terror, that he would be blank. The entire world was getting soulmates and he was going to be blank. He’d be a freak. He didn’t want to be left out. Especially not on this.

God. He was alone. He didn’t have a soulmate. He was starting to come to grips with that, alone in the bathroom. Fuck. He should’ve just let Ashton break it to him. He could be nice. But this way he could have his breakdown in private. He gripped the sides of the sink, ready to curl down into himself and maybe never come back out. He started leaning down when he froze. Right there, on his forearm, was the mark. He slowly let go of the sink, bringing his arm up in quiet amazement to stare at it.

Holy fuck. He had a soulmate. Out there in the world, somewhere, living, breathing, existing, was his soulmate. Someone was meant for him. He brushed the pad of one finger over it gingerly, as if to test if it was real. It didn’t come off. Which was a good sign.

After affirming that it was real, that he really had a soulmate, he focused on the design. Which was...yeah. That was a thing. It was a happy dog sitting down, his tail mid wag, with numbers right beneath him reading 1251996. That was helpful. He definitely didn’t know anyone that connected to the tattoo. So his soulmate existed, he just didn’t know where they were. Great.

He yanked the door open and came out to look at Ashton. “I have a tattoo,” he said, a little gleefully.

“No shit. What is it?”

“It’s a dog with some weird numbers.”

“Show me.” Ashton held his arm once Michael offered it, looking at the tattoo. “Shit. We’ve got soulmates. Do you know anyone-“

“No. I’ve never seen the dog in my life and I have no idea what the numbers mean. Is my soulmate a fucking prisoner?”

“I don’t know. You’ve had it for all of an hour, don’t be so negative. I’m sure you’ll find your soulmate. Maybe you’ll get a nice tingle when you meet him-“

“Shut up, Ashton. What’s yours say?”

Ashton rolled his short sleeve up to reveal the tattoo. Like he’d said, it was a lamington, with sweet intricate letters on top of it.

“Luke,” Michael read aloud. “It says Luke.”

“Do you think that’s his name?” Ashton asked, looking surprisingly soft and vulnerable. No wonder. This was his soulmate.

“Yeah. Probably. You’re in love with some guy named Luke. Do you know anyone named Luke?”

Ashton shook his head. “No. I don’t.” He frowned a little.

“At least you’ve got it easy. You can just pop in places and try and find someone named Luke with a tattoo with stuff about you. How am I supposed to find the owner of the dog?”

“We could make a flyer?” Ashton suggested. Always so reasonable. “I’m sure there are groups online for it. We can join those. We’ll find you your soulmate, Mike, I promise.”

Michael nodded, comforted by Ashton’s ever present ability to come up with plans. It sounded like a good one, anyway. “Want to order a pizza?”

Ashton laughed. “Is that the only thing on your mind? Yeah, I guess. But I can always go grab it, the place is just around the corner.”

“You just want to look for Luke.” Michael pouted. Ashton flushed. So he wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, but I can grab you some of those sweets you like from the bakery?”

Michael perked up immediately. “The sugar buns?” They were like heaven, sweet balls of dough rolled in some magical kind of sugar. He was addicted to them.

“Yeah. Those. I’ll be back in fifteen. Unless you want to come?” Ashton offered, though he seemed skeptical. And rightly so.

Michael crinkled his nose. “And deal with people? Absolutely not. Shoo, peasant. Go get me my pizza.”

Ashton just laughed his way out the door, leaving Michael back alone with his thoughts. About his soulmate. He had honestly no idea who it could be. His dating life had been rough lately. And by rough, he hadn’t actually seen anyone in over a year. Life just hadn’t really made any room for it. He’d focused his energy on his fleeting crushes. Soft brown eyes and squishy cheeks and a smile that made him feel warm inside drifted back into his thoughts. Calum. He wondered what Calum was feeling at the moment. They’d only talked a handful of times now. He wasn’t his soulmate. Calum probably had someone taller. More attractive. More deserving of him.

That was a little depressing. He sighed, frowning and slumping against the couch. He wished he’d actually gone with Ashton and braved the people just so he didn’t have to be alone with his thoughts. His phone buzzed, loud in the silence, against the coffee table where he’d left it. He answered it, a little unsure why he was being called.

“Hello?”

“Hey. I found him, Mike. I found him.”

“Found who, Ashton?” Why did he choose now to not explain?

“Luke.” Oh. Oh. Fuck. He’d found his soulmate-

“Already?! How the fuck is that even possible?”

“He works at the bakery. He said- he was saying lamingtons were his favourite of what they offered, and I asked his name. He said it’s Luke. He offered to tell me his tattoo once he gets off. He gets off in fifteen minutes-“

“Go,” Michael said, once there was a pause in Ashton’s excited and slightly frantic words. “Go find out his tattoo. Spend some time with him. I’ll just go pick up the pizza and have some time to think.”

“Are you sure? I can always come back after and just get his number.”

“I’m sure, Ash. He sounds nice. You’d do the same for me. I’m happy for you. Really. Go bond with him. Romance him. Take him out for dinner. Really woo him and give me the good details tomorrow.”

There was a pause, before a relieved. “Thank you. I’ll call tomorrow, I swear. Talk later.” Before there was a click, indicating that Ashton had left him for his lover.

That was fast. Ashton had already found his soulmate. Michael wondered, idly, what it felt like. To know who you belonged with. At least he knew someone out there belonged with him. It was just a matter of finding them.

He’d maybe look for one of the online groups that Ashton had suggested later. For now, he was going to pick up his pizza and enjoy it, even if he was stuck by himself. So he grabbed his keys (he wouldn’t forget them now, not after having locked himself out four times since moving in) and pulled his sweatshirt back on for extra protection before trudging outside.

It was gorgeous out, a crisp feeling in the air indicating the turning of seasons coming soon. Michael wasn’t sure if he should feel elated or not. He was all mixed up inside, and didn’t know where to begin sorting it out. Normally, he talked to Ashton and he helped him begin untangled the complicated web of his emotions. But he was currently occupied. So he’d have to do it himself. Or ignore it and wait. Which sounded much better at the moment.

He almost tripped over a dog, since he had his hoodie up over his head, having to stumble a bit to catch his balance.

“Sorry! Rocko likes getting in peoples way. Are you okay?” The stranger walking said dog asked immediately. Though, there was something familiar about his voice that had his gut churning. In a good or a bad way, Michael couldn’t decide.

He looked up from beneath his hoodie, shocked to see Calum standing there. Calum from the pet store. Recognition dawned on Calum’s face and he gave him a happy smile. “Hey!” Calum said, tone just as happy. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too.” Michael gave him a smile, albeit a slightly strained one. Couldn’t he see he was having a crisis? And mourning what could have been between them? Calum was gorgeous and loved dogs and seemed so nice. He could’ve been his soulmate. But he was stuck with a stupid prisoner or something. Not that he minded too much. Any soulmate was good. Any at all. As long as they weren’t, like, a murderer or something. That would be pretty bad.

“How have you been? All the news this morning has been crazy. I think my phone’s been blowing up since before I woke up.” Calum’s face squished up in that weirdly endearing way that happened when he smiled sometimes. It definitely didn’t make Michael’s chest flip around. Or his heart flutter. He wasn’t sappy like that. He had a soulmate somewhere.

“Mine too. My friend Ashton called me like eight times to make me wake up at nine am just so I could watch the news.” Which was fair, actually. It was a monumental event. Ashton was nice to not let Michael sleep through it. Not that he’d ever say that out loud. He knew anyway. “Then he was rude enough to offer to order pizza and then ditch me to find his soulmate.”

Calum laughed and, wow, that was Michael’s new favourite sound. It did something absolutely weird to his belly that he didn’t understand at all. It was like some sort of flip floppy butterfly thing. He didn’t entirely hate it. “At least you didn’t sleep through it! I feel so bad for all the people without marks. I hope they end up with them eventually, if that’s what they want.” He paused, gaze focusing on Michael. “Do you have a mark?” Before Michael could try and figure out what to say, Calum was waving it off. “Sorry, Sorry. That’s awfully personal. You said you’re grabbing pizza, right? From Alfredo’s around the corner, by any chance?”

Michael didn’t even know what to think about all of that. Did Calum have a soulmate? Had he found them already? He really didn’t know. And he especially didn’t know why he was so fucking attached to the guy from the pet store who reminded him of a puppy. “Yeah, actually. They make the greatest pizzas. It’s a crime to order anywhere else if you can avoid it.”

Calum grinned, face doing that squishy-cheek thing again. “That’s right on my way! I can walk with you, if you’d like?”

And yeah. That sounded really nice to Michael. Of course he’d like. “Sounds good to me.” It sort of hit him then, that this was Calum’s dog. And he felt his heart sink right down into his gut where it died. There was no chance for him to be his soulmate now. Not at all. Rocko, the giant German Shepard he was walking, didn’t match the clearly small dog tattooed on his arm. At least it was still covered by his sweatshirt so they didn’t have to make awkward chit chat about it. “It’s great weather outside for dog walking,” Michael said, just because he was a masochist and enjoyed causing himself pain.

“It really is. I think Rocko will actually be worn out, which is an impressive feat. He’s hard to wear out sometimes. He’s young, so he has more energy.”

Michael nodded. He was still, irrationally, hurt that the love of his life, this man he’d talked to maybe three times, wasn’t his soulmate. Who the fuck else could it be? He hadn’t met anyone new in the last few weeks. Oh fuck. What if it was a customer? He’d met plenty of those. God, that would suck so bad. It would be so much harder to find his soulmate that way. And he’d have to hate them because they were a customer. “I don’t have that problem, really. I just have small dogs so they’re easy to wear out.”

“Southy,” Calum remembered, pleased with himself. “And...oh fuck, don’t tell me. I’ll remember it.” He paused for a moment, presumably to think. “Moose! Moose moose moose.”

Michael smiled despite himself and his insistence on staying in a foul mood. It was sweet that he actually remembered his dogs’ names. “Yeah. That’s them.”

“And Southy’s your ESA. Right. I remember.”

Michael just nodded a little bit. Calum had a good memory. Much better than his, his was shit. Except for when it came to whoever’s turn it was to order pizza, or Ashton’s mistakes. “Yeah.”

“He’s the good boy.” Calum smiled at him, and Michael’s stomach started doing somersaults. Not his heart. That was too cheesy.

“Yeah. He is.” Michael was an idiot. He sounded like a broken record. Couldn’t he find something else to say other than yeah?

“How did the nursing home go? That was where you were taking him, right?”

Damn Calum and his genius memory. “Yeah, it was. And it went really well. The old people really like him. I could do without the old women trying to squeeze my face, though.”

Calum laughed and oh, okay, maybe being a dork was a little worth it if he got reactions like that. “My friend’s grandma does that a lot. I get it. They mean well but, man, my poor face!”

All too soon, they ended up reaching Alfredo’s. Michael hadn’t bumped into him too far away from it and there wasn’t a good way for him to drag the conversation out any longer. Not without being painfully obvious, at least. He gave Calum a slightly reluctant smile. “Right. Here we are I guess.”

“Alright, well, enjoy your pizza! I’ll see you soon?” Calum seemed pretty genuine about it. But he always did. So who knew if he was being real.

“Yeah, hopefully.” Hopefully? Yeah again? Michael was an idiot. “Uh. See you.” He went into Alfredo’s, regretting every single thing he’d said in his entire life, and his own birth.

————————

Michael decided against going in to see Calum again for a while. He needed proper time to process. And think about his soulmate. Ashton had helped him look online for his. They’d had no luck so far. No one had anything relating to Michael at all. Which sucked.

“Maybe it’s defective,” he’d said one day, backwards on the couch with his head hanging over the edge while Ashton scoured the internet in search of Michael’s soulmate. “Maybe I really don’t have one and this is just a cruel trick.”

“Or maybe you’re dramatic and we just haven’t found them yet.” Damn Ashton. Not even letting him whine.

They’d continued looking, but nothing had come up. Luke, though, was nice. Michael had gotten to meet him about a week after the day him and Ashton had meet. He was sweet, if not a little awkward. He worked at the bakery, though, so more often than not he brought sweets to Ashton and sometimes he’d let Michael have some. He was pretty great.

Ashton was happy. He could see it in the smitten way he looked at Luke when he thought he wasn’t looking. In the way he smiled in that fond way he reserved just for him when Luke was rambling on about something, in the way he reassured him when Luke got embarrassed afterward. And Michael was happy for him, really. But he was a little jealous inside somewhere, just because it had been so easy for him. He’d found Luke right after he’d gotten his soulmate mark. There was no worry, no feeling like part of you was wandering out in the world with no way to track it down. He had it easy. And Michael thought that that might make it harder for Ashton to understand what he was going through.

Michael didn’t really know how to explain the feeling. It was just sort of...wrong. Like his heart ached all the time for someone he didn’t know and had never met but somehow he knew he was missing. It felt like he’d lost some part of himself somehow and that was just the scariest part of the whole thing. Because he was still Michael, nothing had changed about that. Except for the tattoo. Ashton seemed to sense that he needed to be left alone about it, so he didn’t tease too much. He was nice, gave him enough distance to process but not so much that he felt unsupported. Michael was grateful. But he was frustrated.

————————

He almost managed to put Calum out of his mind entirely. For the time being, at least. He was so wrapped up in his feelings and his mini spiral and focusing on his soulmate and how weird it felt not being around him, he didn’t have much time or mental energy leftover to dwell on the guy who was still pretty much a stranger.

That all came crashing down the following week, when him and Ashton worked another shift together. They’d worked at the coffee shop together for close to two years. Ashton, being the person he was, had eventually become manager. A position that he didn’t mind so much but Michael liked to poke fun at. Because he was nice.

“Have you seen him again?” Ashton asked, between handing a coffee to a customer with a smile and taking another order. “Calum?”

“No,” Michael grumbled, frowning as he grabbed a cup to make another drink. “Why would I?”

“You said you were in love with him. Why aren’t you at least figuring out if he’s your soulmate?” Ashton glanced over at him. “I need another iced mocha with extra whip.”

Michael sighed, looking at him. “Because he’s definitely got a soulmate that isn’t me. I can feel it Ashton. In my soul. He’s not interested in me and I’ll have to just scrap the proposal and suck it up.”

“You don’t know that. You could always ask him. I need an iced mocha with extra whip.”

“But I do. I don’t have to ask to know that. And why would I bother making a fool of myself when I already know that he’s got another soulmate somewhere?”

“Michael. Iced mocha. Extra whip. And you don’t know that, you’d just rather not ask than-“

Michael didn’t catch anything else he said. He’d finally started on the stupid coffee - which, really, it was more sugar than coffee so he hoped whoever fucking ordered it enjoyed their sugary heart attack at one pm on a Tuesday - when he’d glanced up. And that was an awful idea. Because the next person who entered the shop, complete with the little jingle of the bell over the door, was Calum.

“Welcome to Great Awakenings,” Ashton started in once Calum approached the counter. “What can I get you?”

Michael was staring. Openly. So when Calum smiled and looked over at him, he ducked down beneath the counter to try and avoid looking like an idiot. The only problem was, he spilled the jug of milk he’d been using for the mocha over his head. Ashton heard the clang of the metal hitting the floor and turned to look with a frown, taking in Michael on the floor covered in milk.

“Michael?” He asked, slightly startled. Michael wasn’t even sure how he ended up in this situation. The only explanation he could come up with was that the universe obviously hated him. First, introducing him to Calum and then not making him his soulmate. And now this. He was going to have to fight the universe. He was pulled out of his burning embarrassment by Ashton’s voice. “You go take your break. I think I’ve got an extra shirt or two in my car. I’ll...finish up here.”

Michael stood, chancing only the slightest glance at Calum with his face burning and completely drenched in milk, before he trudged out the back to Ashton’s car in search of a clean shirt and his dignity.

————————

Michael never did bother talking about it. Ashton had put two and two together and, after a couple unsuccessful attempts at asking, dropped the subject all together. Well...for all of four days, at least. That seemed to be Ashton’s limit, since he brought it up again when he’d invited Michael out to grab coffee. Somewhere else other than their work, thankfully. He’d invited Luke to join, with Michael’s approval, since they were trying to work out their dynamic. Which was fine. Everything was fine. He was running late, which gave Ashton the perfect opportunity to try and lecture him.

“Why don’t you just ask him, Mike? You’re sitting around making yourself miserable. The least you can do is ask and actually have a reason for being miserable.”

“Ew. Don’t call me that. And I’m not going to ask him because I already fucking know the answer and I’m not embarrassing myself for the second time in front of him. You don’t get it. Just because everything’s perfect for you and Luke doesn’t mean it’s perfect for everyone else.” Michael regrets his words as soon as he sees something like hurt flash across Ashton’s face. He doesn’t like feeling guilty. Or hurting Ashton’s feelings. It’s...difficult to do, and Michael should’ve been better at avoiding it considering how long they’d been friends. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice softer. “I just mean...you found your soulmate fifteen minutes after getting your mark. And that’s great. I’m happy for you. But it’s not like that for me. I’m..still looking. We haven’t had any luck finding whoever I’m supposed to be with. There’s no point in assuming it’s Calum.”

Before Ashton can give what would probably be an annoyingly reasonable answer, Luke makes his way over. He kind of reminds Michael of a newborn calf. Long legs and a little bit awkward. He smiled, with the same smitten look Ashton always gave him, and sat next to him, pecking his cheek. Gross. “Hey, what did I miss?”

“Michael is lamenting about his lack of soulmate. And how he won’t ask the man he insists is the love of his life what his soulmate mark is.” Michael glared daggers at Ashton, offended that he’d reveal such personal information to anyone. What a jerk.

“Oh. Why don’t you just ask him?” Luke asked, tilting his head.

“Because they’ve only talked four times and Michael insists that it isn’t helpful. Because he obviously already has a soulmate.” Ashton sipped his coffee with a disconcertingly knowing look. He didn’t like that look on him. Not at all.

“You don’t know that, though,” Luke pointed out, lips pulling into a frown. “I thought Ashton did too, until I found out he didn’t. Who is this guy?”

“His name’s Calu-“

“If you tell him, Ashton, I’m not coming to your wedding and I’m never going to cover a shift for you ever again-“

Luke looked startled at the revelation. “Calum? Like, pet store Calum?”

It was Michael’s turn to be shocked. “Wait, you know him?”

Luke’s startled expression didn’t shift. “Yeah, he’s my best friend.” He stared at Michael for a very long moment. “Oh my god. What is it?”

Michael felt lost in like eight different ways. He didn’t even know where to begin. “What is what?”

“Your mark. What is it?”

That really didn’t help Michael’s confusion at all. He just felt worse. “It’s a dog. With some weird numbers. I don’t see what that has to do-“

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Luke said, shaking his head. “You’re both so stupid. So fucking stupid.”

Michael frowned. That wasn’t very nice. “What’s wrong with you-“

“He’s got two dogs. And a strand of numbers.” Luke looked at him, expression somewhere between incredulous and pained.

And oh. Oh. Oh. That changed...a lot of things. “But how do you know it’s him? We could be wrong about it. Maybe it’s not...maybe it’s...”

“Where is your mark? Can I see it?” Michael didn’t like showing it off much. But Luke was sweet and trying to help so he rolled up his sleeve. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. That’s Duke.”

“Who’s Duke?” Ashton chimed in, though his smug expression said he already knew. Michael wasn’t even sure he actually wanted to know.

“Calum’s dog. He loves him to death. You both are so- he saw your mark on that group for people who haven’t found their soulmates but he thought you didn’t like him. When he saw you getting at the coffee shop, he was going to tell you, but after you ducked down to get away from him, he figured that you probably didn’t like him and wanted to pretend he wasn’t your soulmate.”

The new information sent him reeling. It took him a couple of moments to process before his brain was capable of functioning again. “I thought his dog was Rocko,” he finally said, a little dumbly.

Luke shook his head. “That’s his neighbor’s dog. He agreed to take him on a walk after she had to go visit her mum in the hospital.”

Michael was silent for another couple of moments. “So he doesn’t hate me?”

“No, he thought you hated him. He was excited.”

Another few moments of silent contemplation. “I’ll be right back. I have an...errand to run.” He pushed back from the table and left, leaving his iced coffee on the table.

[rebelliouslala]

Hypnos

okay so you’ve been cleaning your home

it’s spring so why not?

you heard somewhere that it’s good for the gods to come in and like give you more blessings

Like a clear prayer pathway?

You honestly didn’t know how else to explain it but you were like “it’s my day off why not”

by early evening you want to die

you didn’t eat

sleep

you finished EVERYTHING

tbh you felt like Hercules except worse

but your friends are all like “y/n Dionysus is in town and he’s throwing a party!”

and other things your friends didn’t mention

you wrinkle your nose and wave them off, sighing, “later, I have to rest”

“please y/n?”

so now you’re being dragged downtown

in your dirty ass clothes

you wanted to throw up really

that was until you feel your eyes get heavy and all closed, and now literally your friends are dragging you

“Y/N HURRY YOUR ASS UP”

“omg just leave them it’s fine we can go”

“and get some DIC”

they leave

now you’re struggling to open your eyes as exhaustion sweeps over you

you collapse on the ground

feeling all numb

all lifeless

that is until you see this dude in a very odd fashion

his hair is a light, fuzzy blonde and his eyes are a little droopy

his clothes are obviously not like yours, no toga, nothing

“a-are you Hermes?” You say sleepily

maybe you were dying

the man smiles in the same attitude, instead helping you up, “no, but we have a little time, now get up, y/n”

he had the smoothest voice, carefully instructing you

you felt light, and happy as you lean with the man

the man smells like lavender, which intoxicates you enough to close your eyes

“what is your name?” You can only mumble out since you were so weak

“Call me Jinjin”

“Jinjin,”

you giggle at the name

“Jinjin~,” you start to sing

he laughs, which makes you only more sleepy

and when you’re sleepy

You’re clingy

wrapping your arms around his bicep, you felt yourself yawn and mumble thank you

Then you have the TRIPPIEST DREAM

you saw the fields of the underworld, a tall, handsome looking man

then you see Jinjin, dragging you out of somewhere

he held you close, and you got on this purple cloud??

“We’ll see each other soon, you’ll see,”

he leans in slowly

and before his perfect lips can make contact with your lips

You wake up

the man is gone, and you rub your eyes tiredly

even though that was like the best sleep ever

you kind of think what happened until you realize the man’s fashion and the dream

HE

WAS

A

GOD

you scramble up from bed

holy frick holy frick what

you try and think back to the myths

you can only think of the god of death

until you think about his twin brother Hypnos

so waking up your neighbors you ask for his temple

they tell you a little new tale about how you shouldn’t slander the gods

especially since Hera just smited -smote? idk- this one woman

so you make your way downtown

walking fast

faces pass

ur not rly home bound

sorry for that joke

it takes you a good day, and you arrive there by the late evening

you’re rly tired

but ur glad you brought your shawl

you climb into the entrance

“uh, hello?”

“oh! y/n!”

you turn and there he is, rubbing his eyes like he woke up from a nap

“were you waiting for me?”

“uh, a little”

you bow, “thank you, I was so tired”

“uhm. . .” he kind of looks off, “y-yeah, how about I walk you home too?”

so you and he walk down the hill from his temple

you learn that he is the god of sleep and dreams

He’s actually pretty chill

he sort of always yawns, which is always cute since he talks a lot

and then suddenly his whole face scrunched up

he looks like a little kitten yawning

okay so maybe you were falling

harD

“So, what was that weird ass dream?” You ask

Jinjin kinda goes silent and he walks a little -just a teeny bit- faster

“Jinjin!” You whine a little

it was that whine that made him stop and sigh

“m-my brother, t-Thanatos was going to kill you. I insisted you just needed rest, so I came from the Underworld, and uhm, I just wanted you to live your life”

You widen your eyes

you did not at all expect that shit

“uh, well- why me?”

He rubs the back of his neck, and you both stop walking

“I saw your future, a little, and your dreams”

“What?”

“Y-You weren’t happy with your life. . .i thought maybe if I could lie to my brother enough, I could find a way for you to live a long life”

you look down and kinda rub your arms

because he wasn’t lying

life wasn’t treating you right, or nice at all

but he continues

“I wanted, to make you happy, such a beautiful person like you shouldn’t give up their life”

okay so the feelings were caught

“What do I owe you?” You ask

He cups your cheek and smiles a little, squishing your cheeks

“Your smile”

You laugh from his cute eye smile, and hide in his neck, making sure he can’t see your tears of happiness

“guess I’ll have to try harder then”

You feel the odd sensation of being light

and Jinjin has placed a purple cloud underneath you both

immediately you both float to the sky

you CLING onto him again

you scream a little, and he holds you close

“You’re alright! Just look!”

it was becoming morning and you and he both rising over the clouds

you gasp when you see the most beautiful and spacious sunrise

you probably will ever see

“oh my gods” you mutter, and you laugh

you’ve never felt at such peace before

“you’re doing great,” Jinjin mutters, and you both fly over the clouds

you kind of ask him a little about his “line of work”

which is just constructing dreams, making sure everyone got sleep

he uses some sort of silver powder, which makes nice dreams for everyone :)

he’s just the sweetest boy you’ve met and you can’t help but just

sigh

soon you both go down the clouds

which is rly fluffy and it’s like some of cloth material

Like cotton balls

anyway you land on your feet in front of your little house

you yawn, realizing you went almost 24 hours without sleep

he helps you to bed, letting you lean on him

he kisses your cheek once you tuck yourself in

“sweet dreams, y/n”

[nicole-lynne]

I’ve Been Looking for Trouble

Hello all! This is my entry for @dreamwritesimagines writer’s block writing challenge. I hope you all like it. Please like, comment, reblog, and follow to your hearts content! 

Pairing: 1940s Bucky x Reader

Prompt: “You know I’m trouble, right?”

You stared up at the ceiling as the morning light filtered through your curtains, the sounds of your mother and sister, Nadine, moving around the kitchen were being drowned out by the comforting noises of Brooklyn. 

You knew it would be polite for you to go out and help them but your soft blankets and pillow seemed like the better option. With the knowledge that your mother would be knocking on your door soon, you snuggled deeper into your quilt and tried to cling onto the dream you’d been having about an overseas adventure. 

In the dream, you had been traveling all over the world as a totally different person. It was a dream that reflected everything you wanted your real life to be but everything it wasn’t. Instead, your family wanted you to live like a perfect little girl who never made a sound or any trouble. To be exactly like your faultless sister. It just was never something you were very good at.  

There was a delicate knock on the door and your sister’s head popped in the door. Of course, her hair was already pinned up with no strand out of place and her makeup was flawless. 

“It’s time to get up, Kitty.” 

You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly before throwing the quilt over your face. You hated when she called you that. It had originally started as ‘kiddie’ when you were little because you were her kid sister and it had slowly morphed into kitty over the years. 

“Don’t be a brat, I’m not gonna wait around for you all morning. I have errands I need to run and mom said you need to go with me.” Nadine scowled at the lump you had formed. “And please, for heaven’s sake, make yourself presentable today. I couldn’t bear it if I saw someone I knew and you embarrassed me.” 

“I’m getting up, jeez.” You kicked the covers off you. “You’re such a snob, Na. No one cares what I look like when I’m standing next to you.” 

“Everyone cares about what you look like. I’m tired of having to treat you like a child.”

“Well why don’t you stop then? I’m twenty years old and I don’t need a little priss like you bossing me around.” 

Nadine stomped across the floor to your wardrobe and flung the door open. “Maybe you should start thanking me for helping you live up to your full potential. For trying to keep you from causing trouble like certain other girls.” 

You huffed out in annoyance and stared down at your feet. You knew she was talking about your friend Maria. Maria was constantly going out with guys, smoking cigarettes, and had skipped more school than you could even begin to count over the years. Your family hated that you were friends and Nadine was always quick to speak down to her. 

Nadine hurled a red floral dress at your head and started to leave. “Wear the nude heels. I’m leaving in thirty minutes, so you better be ready.” She said tersely and slammed the bedroom door. 

You clenched your fists with defeat, the dress wrinkling in your hands. You looked down at the wrinkles smuggly. At least something was on your side. 

~~~

Two hours later you were trailing behind Nadine like a sad puppy through the market, and somehow you had been delegated the task to hold all the bags. 

“Nadine, are we almost done?” You gripped. 

“No, now hush. I still want to stroll through Batterman and I don’t want to hear any complaining. It’s unbecoming of a woman your age.” 

You grumbled quietly behind the mound of packages but followed her anyways to the department store. You could hear kids playing baseball around the corner and you were itching to go join in, but you knew Nadine would simply scoff at the idea. 

You watched your sister head toward the doors and you hesitated. Nadine glimpsed back at you and faltered when she saw you weren’t following. 

“Kitty, what are you doing? Let’s get a move on.” She snapped her fingers at her side. 

“Nads, I’m not feeling too well. I think I’m going to stay out here and get some fresh air.” You squished your face trying to look queasy. 

Nadine looked at you reluctantly, “are you sure? You didn’t seem to feel bad a minute ago.” 

“It just hit me. I think I was just in that tiny market for too long.” 

“Well... Do you want me to wait with you?” Nadine face showed more annoyance than concern. 

“No, no, no, I’ll be fine by myself. You just go in and I’ll be right here waiting for you.” You faked a pathetic smile and waved her on. 

The moment the door closed, you dropped the bags onto the ground and shook out your arms trying to gain some feeling back. You slumped against the side of the building, appreciating the moment you got to people watch. 

The sun was high in the sky and kissing your skin like it was greeting you. There were women hanging out the windows doing laundry and men puttering around their trucks while children were running up and down the streets. The scent of bread was wafting out from the bakery and your mouth watered with desire. 

A giant crash broke your train of thought and you whipped around in the direction it came from. Guys were yelling and there were a few more crashes before you heard footsteps coming straight for you.

You took a step back just as a guy flew around the corner. You gasped, startled, as he slammed his back against the wall and tried to catch his breath. You could help but note how handsome he looked in a form-fitting uniform. He still hadn’t noticed you but you were looking at him with amusement. 

Finally he turned and his eyes landed on you and you quivered slightly at the sight of the most clear blue eyes you’d ever seen. He licked his bottom lip and started to smirk at you when the sound of more footsteps interrupted his thoughts and your gaze flickered to the corner of the building.

In one stride, the man was in front of you and you squeaked in surprise.

“Kiss me.” He said with a sense of urgency.

“Wh-what?” You stammered like a ninny. 

“I said kiss me. Quick.” 

You didn’t let yourself hesitate before nodding in response. The man wrapped his arms around your waist and tipped you backwards in one swift motion. You squealed as you gripped his biceps tight, praying that he wouldn’t drop you. 

Instantly, his lips pressed against yours and your breath hitched at the goosebumps raising along your skin. He tasted of peppermint and it rested on your lips deliciously. You let your eyes drop as his arms tightened around you to hold you closer, completely ignoring the footsteps that were getting closer and then fading into the distance. 

Before you could truly fall deeper into the kiss, it was over and he was setting you back upright. Shaking your head, you had to force yourself not to pout. 

“Wow... that was...wow.” he breathed out, the smell of peppermint filling your nose again. 

“Yeah it was pretty wow...” You bit your bottom lip bashfully.

His pupils dilated at the sight of you biting your lip and heat washed over your body. You were praying to every god in the world that Nadine did not walk out and see this. You wanted to keep this moment to yourself. This moment of being pressed against a handsome man in a soldier’s uniform after a perfect kiss.  

Sooner than you would like, he had dropped his hands off you to give you a little space. 

“Where are my manners, I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.” His eyes were sparkling as he watched you. 

“Bucky...” You let the name sit on your tongue, loving the way it felt. His heart sped up at the thought of his name coming off your lips again. “My name is Y/N.” 

You smiled up at him delighted, “so are you gonna tell me what that was all about, Bucky?” 

His jaw gaped open like he suddenly remembered the commotion that had caused this all in the first place, “oh right, well my friend Steve had a little run in with a couple a’ meatballs and I had to show em what’s what. But they felt the need to return the favor...and now here we are. I’m sure lucky that a beautiful bird like yourself was here to help me out.” 

“That’s awfully brave of you to stick up for your friend.” You batted your eyelashes softly, “and you’re very kind for the sweet words.” 

“What can I say, ma’am, it’s all in the name of duty.” He teased back with a flirty smirk. 

“Well where are you headed to now?” 

“I probably ought to try and find Steve. He booked it in another direction and I better make sure he isn’t getting thrown in the trash or something.” He laughed at the thought and you automatically smiled. That was a laugh you wanted to hear again and again. 

You shifted your weight back and forth trying to decide if you should ask what you wanted or be the good little girl that Nadine was expecting you to be. But the thought made you shudder and you thought, ‘screw it’. 

“Can I come with you?” Bucky’s eyebrow shot into the air and he looked at you impressed. 

“You do know I’m trouble, right?” He asked cheekily. 

You opened your mouth to respond when a group of guys down the street started yelling at you two. They were big and all wore furious expressions on their face. Beside you, Bucky gulped loudly. 

Deciding not to let the moment pass you by, you slipped your hand in his and started dragging him down the street, leaving your bags abandoned. 

“Bucky, I think you’re exactly what I’ve been looking for!” You squealed excitedly and he squeezed your hand sweetly. You couldn’t help but start laughing as you both raced down the street hand-in-hand, hopefully toward your next adventure.

[runaway-horses]

Rainbow Colored Love

Word Count: 1,765

A/N: Me? Self-projecting? Never. (Read; I absolutely am) This took me in a lot of directions in one day before I settled on what I have now. (Yes, I wrote this in one day, and yes, I am exhausted.) Happy Pride to everybody! This fic means a lot to me just because I made Virgil non-binary, like myself, and I hope y’all enjoy it.

Warnings: One use of the F-word, Sympathetic Deceit but he’s only mentioned twice and both times off-screen. I think that’s it? Un-beta read, all mistakes are the result of writing this past midnight.

Tags: @pippippippin, @a-cure-for-sentience, @stormcrawler75, @princeyssash, @quoth-the-sparrow, @theresneverenoughfandoms, @queer-guineapig

Virgil sits at the end of their driveway, head tilted back, eyes shut. The harsh June sun beats down on them, but Virgil is enjoying it. Normally, they would find the heat oppressive. It made wearing their signature hoodie uncomfortable (and according to Patton, dangerous) and the Florida sun was not kind on their pale skin.

But it's hard to muster up any sort of negative feelings today, not even towards the sun.

A smile splits their face as they hear the distinctive rumble of their boyfriend's car making its way down the road. Virgil sits up and squints at the dark blue van rolling to a stop in front of them. Their boyfriend steps out and runs a hand through his blue hair, missing it up. Virgil feels a pang of fondness in their chest at the very sight of him.

"Logan!" They call, standing gracefully. Logan looks over to them and he smiles big, dropping his hand. “Hello darling,” Logan greets, his eyes bright behind his glasses. Virgil walks up to him and tilts their head back to look him in the eye. As much as they liked to grumble about it (and as much as Roman teased them about it), they loved how Logan was just a head taller than them. It meant Virgil could tuck their head right under his chin and breathe in the familiar scent of their boyfriend. (It also made them feel safe, when Logan would wrap his arms around them and press a kiss to the top of their head- yeah. That was nice too.)

Logan’s hands are cool against Virgil’s warm skin as he gently cups their face and kisses their forehead. “Are you ready to go, starshine?” Virgil hums in affirmation and bounds over to the passenger side of Logan’s door, sliding into the car and ignoring Logan’s fond chuckle. Virgil tries not to bounce in their seat as Logan backs the car out of their driveway, and they reach into their pocket for their fidget spinner. They spin it around and enjoy both the motion and the whirr before turning to Logan.

“I want to dye my hair,” They say, abruptly. They’re surprised by Logan’s smile (Logan is extra smiley today, usually it takes a bit more to get their stoic boyfriend to show emotion. Although Virgil supposes they’re feeling particularly stimmy and happy today as well.)

“I had a hunch, or a hope, that you might say that. I re-did mine last night,” He gestures to the vibrant color atop his head, “And I purchased some extra dye. Did you have a particular color in mind?” Virgil hums and flicks the spinner again.

“I was thinking purple?” They say and Logan nods.

“I have a bottle of it at home. Would you like me to do that before we leave for the parade?” Virgil hums again and nods before turning to look out the window. Logan reaches for the radio and the playlist that Virgil made him for their anniversary fills the car, which causes Virgil to glance over at Logan.

I need to know

That when I fail you'll still be here, mmm

'Cause if you stick around, I'll sing you pretty sounds

And we'll make money selling your hair

He’s smiling, and after a moment he starts to song along.

I don't care what's in your hair

I just wanna know what's on your mind

I used to say I wanna die before I'm old

But because of you, I might think twice

Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Yeah, yeah, yeah!

+++

The two of them are still singing along to the playlist when Logan pulls up to his house, and they wait in the driveway until the current song finishes for Logan to turn off the car. Virgil opens the car door and follows Logan into his house. They like Logan’s house, it smells like peppermint and cinnamon and Logan’s dad is always kind to Virgil. Logan leads him into the bathroom, where there’s bottles of hair dye on the counter. Virgil spots the purple and picks it up to look at the color more closely. Vibrant Violet, the label reads. They smile at Logan and hand him the bottle. “This is good, I hope.”

Logan reaches for the latex gloves on the counter and urges Virgil to sit up on the edge of the sink so he can start on their hair.

45 minutes later, Logan is blow drying Virgil’s hair as they discuss Doctor Who and Logan is making Virgil laugh with his Intense Focus face. (Your eyebrows scrunch together and you get this really serious look on your face; it’s adorable! Sometimes you even stick your tongue out a little-hey! I’m just telling the truth!)

“All done!” Logan announces, peeling off his gloves and dropping them in the trash can. Virgil hops off the counter and turns to look in the mirror, gasping at their reflection. Their hair is a vibrant shade of purple, the bangs fluffier than usual due to its recent blow drying. They run a hand through their hair and study their reflection for a moment longer before turning around and hugging Logan.

“I love it! Thank you, Logan,” They say into his chest, and they feel themself melt a little when Logan drops a kiss on their head.

“You’re welcome dearest. Now, are you ready to get dressed? I don't want to be late.’

Virgil nods and looks at themself in the mirror one last time before grabbing their bag and darting into Logan’s bedroom, pulling their outfit out of the backpack. They’re pulling their shirt over their head when Logan enters and they smile at his tank top, which has the words “Everything is gay and nothing is binary” printed on it in blocky letters.

(It also highlights Logan’s impressive biceps and shoulders, so in no way is Virgil complaining.)

He lifts up a pallet of face paint and shakes it. "Would you paint my face for me, dear?" Virgil nods and reaches for the pallet, swatting Logan's arm when he lifts it up out of their reach. Logan laughs and hands it to Virgil, who flips open the lid with a huff. "You're lucky I love you," they mutter as they swipe color across their boyfriend's face.

"Indeed I am," Logan murmurs, leaving forward and kissing Virgil gently, trapping their hand between their chests as they melt into the kiss.

"Fuck you, Logan. Now I'm soft," They object weakly, fighting back the blush that's painting their cheeks red. "You weren't supposed to make that romantic!"

Logan pulls them closer and kisses their cheeks. "Roman must be rubbing off on me," he says. Virgil pushes him away gently, certain that they'll explode if Logan keeps kissing them.

"He's a bad influence on you, that Prince."

Virgil finishes the last swipe of blue on Logan's face, having painted two identical bi flags on either side of Logan's face.

"You're all set!" They say, admiring their work. "I can't believe I painted straight lines during this Good Gay Month."

Logan's laughs as he pulls on his combat boots. "Now who sounds like Roman?"

Virgil doesn't respond, preoccupied with their task of painting yellow, white, purple, and black stripes on their own face. When they catch Logan's eyes in the mirror, he's smiling at them.

They smile back at him, and pull back from the mirror.

"Ok, I'm ready." They say, picking up their backpack and slinging it over their shoulder.

"Let's get our gay on, shall we?"

+++

The entire drive, Virgil is vibrating with excited energy. They spin their fidget spinner for the entire ride, trying to settle their emotions somewhat.

When Logan parks the car at their destination, Virgil reaches into their backpack and digs around for a moment before emerging with a small pin that they fix to their shirt.

My Pronouns Are they/them/theirs.

Logan reads the white text over the non-binary flag and gives Virgil a smile filled with pride. Virgil smiles back. They've come a long way in two years, two years ago they never would've imagined being comfortable enough with themself to wear a pin like this, to have the flag so visible on their body.

They step out of the car and grasp Logan's hand as the two of them walk towards the loud and joyful sounds of the crowds. There's glitter and color and sound everywhere, and Virgil feels the tight grip of anxiety for a terrifying moment, but then Logan squeezes their hand and the crowd parts and they can breathe again.

They hear a loud shout to their left, and when they look they see Roman and Patton hanging off of each other, each decked out in Pride regalia.

"Oh my stars, Virgil! Look at you, you look wonderful!" Patton says as they get closer. Virgil smiles shyly and squeezes Logan's hand again.

"Thanks Padre. You look pretty pan-tastic yourself."

Patton screeches with joy and slaps at Roman's arm, smiling huge.

"A pun! What a pun-derful pun, thank you Vee!" Virgil smiles at their friend as he flaps his hands a little and Roman looks at his boyfriend like he hung the sun. Roman is wearing his “No Romo” shirt that Virgil gifted him when he came out to the group. (Later that night, he also admitted his squishes for Patton and Dee, and the three of them have been together since. It’s a memorable day in their friendship history for a couple reasons.)

"We're looking for Dee, but we'll see you guys once the parade starts?" Roman asks, questioning gaze lingering on Virgil.

"You will, for sure." They say, happiness bubbling in their chest as they answer. Roman smiles at them before leading Patton off, presumably in search of their third QPP.

Logan and Virgil walk hand in hand through the crowd, and they find what they deem to be a good spot to wait in for the parade to begin. Virgil takes their backpack off and reaches into it again, pulling out the finishing touch to their outfit.

The demiromantic flag unfolds, and they tie it around their shoulders resolutely. They look at Logan, pride in their eyes, and Logan kisses them.

And as Logan's fingers sink into their hair, with the rumble of people around them and their flag fluttering at their back, Virgil feels at home.

And when they break apart to walk, Virgil says a silent thank you to all those who walked before, and gave them the opportunity to be here, walking hand in hand with the boy they love.

[prettyboy-parker]

good boys, bad boys

masterlist

chapter 3: football

words: 2.5k

warnings: none

author’s note: OKAY I JUST REMEMBERED FOOTBALL ISNT IN THE SPRING/SUMMER TIME IM AN IDIOT BUT JUST GO ALONG WITH IT

For Peter, this week has been incredibly boring. The entire school seems to have the itch for summer, you can almost feel it. His teachers are running out of planned material, but they still aren’t allowed to goof off.

At least it’s Friday.

“Are you coming to the football game tonight, Peter?” Steve asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Before Peter has a chance to respond, Sam cuts in.

“You better be, Parker. This is the semi-final.”

Sam Wilson is a junior like them, one of Steve’s best friends and teammate.

He sighs and picks at his mixed fruit cup.

“I wouldn’t miss it. You know that.” He responds, catching a glimpse of Steve’s baby blue eyes.

“Damn straight.” Sam huffs, taking a bite of his almost-soggy pizza.

The boy with fiery red hair and posture like a dancer turns to him.

“We appreciate you attending, Peter. Even if some people,” He shoots a glare at Sam, “Don’t make that clear.”

“Thanks Vis. But really, I love watching you guys play. It’s fun. And I wouldn’t miss the semi-finals for the world.”

Peter doesn’t know much about the senior, only that he plays football and Vis is certainly not an actual name.

Vis gives him a small smile before turning back to his lunch.

“Does anyone want me to take their trash?” Peter offers, standing up off of the plastic bench.

A couple of hands place wrappers onto his tray. He turns and heads to the trash can. On his way there, he sees that Stark and his guys are eating at the table next to it. Taking a deep breath, he pretends to look at the other tables as he approaches the trash can. He successfully gets rid of his trash and tray without interruption. As he walks back to his own table, he can’t help but glance back at their table, meeting the blue-grey eyes on a familiar face.

***

“Why do we even have to pay to get in? At least we show up.” Stephen complains as they stand in line, waiting to pay their admission.

“Come on, it’s only $2. And we’re supporting the school.” Peter tells him, poking him in the bicep.

“Oh, the school. How could I forget.” Stephen scoffs, taking out his wallet a grabbing 2 dollar bills. Peter takes his own crumpled money and tries flattening it out.

“Hello, boys.” Their teacher, Mrs. Harriman, says as they approach the ticket booth.

“Hi, Mrs. Harriman.” They say in unison, holding out their wrinkled bills.

She takes them and stamps their hands with a custom stamp of their school logo.

The atom design is smudged and unclear from the ink, but Peter doesn’t mind.

They walk inside the gates, noticing how the bleachers are already packed.

“Peter!”

Peter’s heart rate increases when he notices Bucky calling and waving to him, surrounded by Stark and his friends.

“Why the fuck is he calling for you?” Stephen hisses, grabbing Peter by the arm and forcing him to make eye contact.

“Um, I-I don’t know.” Peter stammers.

Stephen’s eyes narrow.

“Just, go find Wong and Anne, okay? I’ll find you later.” He says quickly and Stephen drops his arm.

“Fine.” He grumbles, turning to find his friends.

Peter turns back around to face Bucky, only to find him watching intently.

He plasters a smile onto his face and jogs over to where they’re standing against the side of the bleachers.

“Hey, Bucky! Fancy seeing you here.” He chirps, stopping before he runs into the boy. It feels so natural for him to just lean up and kiss him-

Wait, what?

“Have to show some spirit somehow, darlin’,” Bucky says, taking a quick puff of his cigarette.

Peter flushes at the nickname, rocking on his heels nervously.

“You the spirited type, Peter?”

Peter turns slowly to face Tony. For a second, he quiets and analyzes the older boy. Far away, his unwavering smirk gives the impression of constant mischief, but up close you can see the dark circles under his eyes that no high schooler should have.

“What, no introduction?” Peter quips, crossing his arms.

Tony grins.

“I think you know who I am.”

“Sure do.”

“Now are you going to answer the question?”

Peter lets out a giggle.

“I guess you could say I am.” He tells Tony, looking down at his ratty Midtown t-shirt. He’s not wearing much, the shirt paired with running shorts. He seems to always be wearing running shorts, probably because it’s all Aunt May can afford he likes them so much.

Tony makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a hum. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, then stretches out his arm to Peter, raising his eyebrow.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke all that much.” He tells him sheepishly and Tony shrugs as if to say ‘okay, whatever.’

The conversation behind Tony ceases.

“Who’s this?”

A kid with long, greasy black hair steps forward. He has an old, worn jean jacket that’s littered with patches thrown over a plain black t-shirt.

“This is Peter,” Bucky tells him, throwing his arm around Peter’s shoulders.

He feels like he’s going to die.

“Loki.” The kid responds, standing awkwardly.

“He’s the baby of the group,” Pietro says from behind Loki, squeezing the younger’s sides. Loki squirms and swats Pietro’s hands away, the bleach blonde’s shrill laugh heard over the commotion of the game.

Bucky leans down, lips brushing against Peter’s ear to whisper, “He’s a sophomore.”

Peter would be shocked to learn that a sophomore is in Stark’s crew, but he’s too focused on the bubbly feeling that spreads throughout his body at the close contact from Bucky. Jeez, he could even feel the small amount of stubble brushing against his jaw.

“O-oh.” Peter stutters, taking a few steps back. Bucky stops him from walking too far.

“Okay team, let’s go find a place to sit,” Tony says, starting to head to the bleachers. Peter ends up shimmying out of Bucky’s grasp, almost running to keep up with the rest of the group. His short legs can’t carry him that far. They push past throngs of people, finally eyeing an empty spot at the top of one of the bleachers. The group heads up the bleachers, combat boots and Doc Martens loud on the metal. They all sit down, Peter ending up squished between Tony and Bucky.

They both smell like cigarettes and cologne.

The marching band is playing their school Fight Song before the players come onto the field. The cheerleaders are yelling something from the sidelines. Tony notices him watching them and nudges him with his elbow.

“See the chick with the red hair? Heavy eyeliner?” He asks, pointing to the cheerleaders. There’s a girl with long, wavy, red hair in the team’s uniform.

“Yeah,” Peter responds, turning to look at Tony.

“That’s Maximoff’s sister. Slept with her once. Can’t remember it.”

Peter looks away, uncomfortable.

Saving him from anymore conversation, the speakers amplify the voice of the announcer. He goes through the players on the other team, the Oak Ridge Bears. This is met from many boos from the Midtown kids, the students from Oak Ridge’s cheers drowned out. When it’s time to introduce the Midtown players, the crowd loses their shit.

Peter makes sure to cheer extra loud for Steve.

The game is one of the more exciting ones, the team with the lead constantly switching. It’s dark, and while it is summer, there’s a chill in the air. Peter curses himself for leaving Steve’s letterman jacket at his house. He rubs his arms rapidly, seeking some short-lived warmth.

“Sweetheart, do you want my jacket?”

Peter looks at Tony, startled.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to. I’m okay.” He manages to say.

“Please take it. I’m warm.” Tony insists, already starting to shrug off his leather jacket. Before Peter can protest some more, Tony drapes the jacket over his shoulders.

It’s heavy, warm, and smells like smoke and expensive cologne.

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter says, slipping his arms into the sleeves.

“Anytime.” Tony grins, then turns his attention back to the game. Peter notices how good his arms look in the tight AC/DC shirt. His muscles are definitely from some sort of manual labor and Peter shudders at the thought of him bending over the hood of a car. His tan skin is covered in thick arm hair and Peter immediately thinks,

Italian. He must be Italian.

Peter forces himself to tear his eyes away from Tony, focusing on the game again.

The rest of the game goes quickly, Midtown eventually gaining the lead in the last 2 minutes. Their team ends up winning, guaranteeing them a spot at finals. They follow the crowd to head to the parking lot.

“Don’t want to lose you!” Tony calls out from ahead of him, reaching backward and grabbing Peter’s hand. Peter can feel his face turn red.

Tony squeezes his hand and Peter squeezes back.

Tony leads him to the parking lot, Peter ending up beside him, swinging their arms gently.

“Um, Tony? I have to go find my ride.” Peter tells him sheepishly as the group approaches their motorcycles.

“Why don’t you come to get milkshakes with us, doll?” Bucky says from behind them.

Peter turns around in surprise, dropping Tony’s hand.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.” He says, toying with the end of his sleeves.

“You never intrude. I’ll take you home afterward.”

Bucky smiles and he looks so gentle, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Sure.” Peter finally agrees.

Tony taps him lightly on the shoulder. Peter turns around to see him with a helmet in his hands.

“Don’t want that pretty little head of yours getting hurt.”

Reluctantly, Peter takes the helmet.

“What about you?” He asks while securing it on his head.

“Don’t worry about me,” Tony tells him with a smirk, swinging his leg around his bike.

“Hop on, Pete. All you have to do is hold on to me.”

Peter nervously gets on the bike, wrapping his lanky arms around Tony’s torso.

“Bye, Maximoff. Barton.” Tony waves at the two other guys, starting the bike. Peter jumps at the sudden jerk of motion, squeezing Tony a bit tighter.

“Nothin’ to worry about!” He laughs over the engine and Peter rests his head on his shoulder.

They start driving, the air turning cool. Peter can predict how ridiculous his hair will look. He’s more than nervous to be on a motorcycle.

If Aunt May ever found out about this, she would surely kill him.

They eventually reach Tip Top, a close to run down neighborhood diner. Aunt May says it’s been around since she was little. Tony parks the bike, Bucky right next to him.

“God, I love this jacket on you.” Tony murmurs as he unclips the strap on the helmet. His calloused fingers brush Peter’s smooth cheeks and he almost faints.

“It’s yours, silly.” Peter giggles, playfully swatting Tony on the arm.

“How about we head inside?” Bucky says sharply, stopping Tony from responding. This does little to dampen Tony’s spirits because he grins.

“Drinks on me! Race ya.”

All three of them make a mad dash to the front door, making patrons near them upset. Bucky reaches the door first, most likely due to his long legs, and they all stumble into the restaurant.

“MJ!” Peter squeaks upon seeing who’s the hostess. He totally forgot MJ just landed a job at the diner, taking the closing shifts.

The brunette looks at him, utterly surprised.

“Peter! What are you doing here?” She asks, but her expression reads ‘what are you doing with them?’

“Oh! Tony and Bucky offered to go get milkshakes. We were at the football game.” He tells her, looking up at Tony and biting his lip. He gives him a small smile, throwing his arm around Peter’s waist.

“Could you get us a table for 3?” He asks MJ.

She blinks in surprise, remembering that she’s working. She hastily shuffles through a stack of menus and grabs three.

“Follow me.” She says quickly, guiding them through the almost vacant restaurant. She sits them at a light blue booth, more than a few holes in the plastic seating.

“Thanks, MJ,” Peter tells her once he’s seated next to Tony.

All she does is give him a glare before walking away.

When their waitress comes, an elderly woman named Ruth, Tony orders large vanilla milkshakes for them. When they arrive at the table, Peter immediately eats the cherry off of its stem. Peter notices Bucky watching him intently.

“Can you tie a knot with your mouth, doll?”

Peter immediately flushes, but pretends to act like the comment didn’t phase him.

“I’ve never learned. That doesn’t mean my mouth isn’t good for other things, though.” Peter tells him with a wink, then proceeding to take a sip of his shake.

“Like what?” Tony asks.

Peter pretends to mull over the question.

“Talking. Mostly.”

They sit and drink their milkshakes for about 30 minutes, all of them flirting back and forth. Once their glasses are empty, Tony bids his farewells to Bucky and Peter, including letting Peter wear his jacket home.

“Can I walk you up?” Bucky asks when they reach Peter’s apartment complex, helping Peter off of his bike.

“I, uh, I don’t know. My aunt..” Peter trails off, looking down at his worn Converse.

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, taking his hand and tilting Peter’s head upwards.

“I get it. Parents don’t like me.” He says sadly, pain in his dusty blue eyes.

“But you’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. I wish my everyone would see that.” Peter sighs, resting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Peter.”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Peter nods with parted lips. He stands on his tippy toes and leans in to meet Bucky. His breath is knocked out of him when their lips touch. Peter’s own lips are smooth and soft, while Bucky’s are a bit dry.

He makes a mental note to buy him some Chapstick.

Bucky pulls him in closer by his waist, Peter desperately leaning into the kiss. Bucky’s tongue darts out across Peter’s bottom lip, a silent request of entry. Unsurely, Peter parts his lips a little bit.

He’s not experienced.

Peter’s only kissed two people in his life. First was Janine in 5th grade at the winter dance, which was also the day he decided he definitely didn't like girls.

The second was some kid named Wade in 9th grade, who proceeded to tell him how shit of a kisser he is afterward.

In conclusion, Peter doesn’t really know what he’s doing.

His brain goes fuzzy as Bucky’s tongue slips into his mouth, giving him a taste of tobacco. He’s never really been one to smoke, but tasting it on another guy?

That’s a different story.

Peter groans and grabs Bucky by the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him closer. Bucky’s free hand makes its way up to Peter’s hair, tugging gently.

They eventually run out of air, pulling away ever so slightly. Peter’s lips are swollen and slick, as well as Bucky’s. The older looks down at Peter, eyes blown with lust.

“Goodnight, darlin.”

“Night, Bucky.”

tag list (ask if you want to be added):

@starker-flame @lurafita @sam-christo @337-years-old @thebadthingshappen @twink-peter @the-dark-obsidian-princess @spideravocados @gayfandomsaremything

[haven-raven012591]

On a Sour Note

Elias X Genevieve

Word count: 2,980

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Cursing.

Summary: What will happen when Genevieve’s ex decides cause trouble between her and her new love? Will Elias and Genevieve grow stronger or will it all fall apart?

Art work by @wrestling-edits-af.

Gen was standing there watching as the love of her life played for people and insulted them. She giggled knowing that as soon as his match was over they'd go out to dinner and then back to the hotel. Or at least that's what she thought would happen. She was so engrossed in Elias that she didn't hear the heavy boot falls that marked the coming storm. Like distant thunder as the storm grew closer to her.

She felt the arm go around her shoulder and froze as she looked up to see two beautiful but angry blue eyes looking at her. “I get injured and you find some other guy to fall into bed with!” Dean snarled. Genevieve rolled his arm off her shoulders and locked eyes with Dean. “I wasn't the one that was cheating on me the whole time we were dating, with someone I considered a friend.” Genevieve snapped. Dean smirked and brushed her long red hair from her shoulders.  

“There's enough of me to go around baby, I can still handle two women.” Dean said. “You made a fool out of me Dean, you of all people should know how much that hurt me!” Genevieve fumed. He only laughed and leaned down to her ear. “If I can't have you no one will Gen, you're mine!” Dean whispered. She gasped as she saw Elias stop and take in the scene that was in front of him.

Genevieve shoved Dean away and slapped him. She ran to Elias and he shook his head. “What was that?” Elias growled. She licked her lips and closed her eyes. “Eli that was nothing I swear to you.” Genevieve said. He looked at her then at Dean smirking. “She's still as feisty as ever.” Dean said. Gen turned and looked at him. “You're an asshole Dean!” Genevieve shrieked. Elias took her hand and she turned to face him.

“Come on Gen, let's go il mio amore.” Elias said. She laced her fingers with his and they walked away. She looked into Elias's green eyes and smiled as he shut the door to his dressing room. “Eli I swear there's nothing going on.” Genevieve said. He put his guitar in the case and pulled her against his chest. “If I ever see you with him again I'll end him and then us.” Elias growled. She put her arms around his neck and played with his hair.

He rubbed up her back and kissed her deeply. She tangled her fingers into his hair and kissed him back with just as much passion. He picked her up and pinned her to the door as his lips trailed kisses from her lips to her collar bone. She sighed and moaned softly. “You're mine Genevieve.” Elias said. She melted a little more for him as he kissed her jawline and down the other side of her neck. “I've been yours for a while Eli.” Genevieve said softly. He looked up at her and she laid her forehead to his. “Nine months.” Elias whispered. She kissed him softly. “You picked me up and dusted me off when he told me the night he got injured, you sat with me and sang to me when I was sad.” Genevieve said. He put her down and she wrapped her arms around him as he kissed the top of her head. They went out and had dinner then they walked in the park. Now she laid tucked protectively against his chest wide awake.

He'd left what happened at the arena alone and she was happy about that. But now the old memories surfaced in her mind every time she tried to sleep. “Are you ok baby?” Elias asked as he rubbed her arm. She jumped a little hearing his voice out of the blue. “Just thinking go back to sleep.” Genevieve whispered kissing him softly. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kept her next to him. “Eli what are you doing?” Genevieve asked. He rolled them over and kissed her heatedly. “Stay in bed with me.” Elias whispered to her lips. She rubbed his arms and down his back. “I couldn't leave now if I wanted to you're squishing me.” Genevieve giggled. He kissed her again and she tangled her fingers in his hair and kept his lips to hers. He settled between her legs and she moaned into his lips as he thrust inside her. She pulled back and sighed as he kissed her neck. “Glad you slept naked baby.” Elias groaned softly.

“We'll how was I supposed to put clothes on when you had your big arms wrapped around me?” Genevieve teased. He laughed and pulled her hips closer as he thrust in her again. “Fuck.” Elias groaned. She moaned as he kissed and licked her breasts swirling his tongue around her nipples making them harder. “Eli!” Genevieve moaned louder. He kissed her as he picked up his pace. Her hand grabbed his biceps and moaned into his lips again. He pulled back and laid his head in her neck inhaling her scent. “You smell amazing.” Elias groaned as she dug her nails into his arms. “You feel so damn good Eli please don't stop.” Genevieve moaned. He grinned and cupped her breasts sucking her nipples one after the other as she arched off the bed. He was slow and methodical with her making her come undone. She grabbed his shoulders and moaned louder. “Elias!” Genevieve screamed as she came. “Genevieve!” Elias groaned a few minutes later as he came. She welcomed his weight on her as he laid there panting.

The next few days where happy for them as they were home and away from the drama. That was until Gen got a late night phone call. “Hello?” Genevieve said groggily into the phone. “I knew you'd pick up my call.” Dean said. “What are you doing calling me in the middle of the night?” Genevieve whispered. She got up and went to the bathroom. “I knew when I saw you two that you didn't love him.” Dean said. “Excuse you?” Genevieve said.

“You don't love him Gen you still love me.” Dean said. “Fuck off Dean.” Genevieve said and hung up. She went back to bed and Elias brought her close and she snuggled into his strong and reassuring embrace. She loved him and she knew she'd always loved him no matter what. Eli was her person, her soulmate. It was funny because up until him she didn't believe those things existed at least not for her.

But now with him everything seemed so easy and so free. She was free, that was one thing she'd never expected from a relationship. When she was with Dean it seemed so forced and they'd fight a lot. It's not that her and Elias didn't fight,they did all couples do but not like her and Dean. Her and Eli had disagreements is what she called them. Her and Dean had, had nothing but long horrid fights.

Elias rubbed her back as if sensing her discomfort. She sighed and kissed his bare chest and he grunted. “Shh baby.” Genevieve said. He pulled her tighter against himself and she closed her eyes now sure nothing could get her not even her past. They were packing to head out on the road for the weekend when Elias pulled her close.

“Who's been calling you so late this week?” Elias asked. She kissed him long and slow. “No one Eli.” Genevieve purred. “Oh no Gen, I'm not doing that now tell me who's calling you.” Elias said taking her hands. “Dean.” Genevieve said. “And you we're what gonna lie to me, get me in bed and hope I'd forget that you've been taking your ex's late night phone calls?” Elias snapped. “Eli I've just been answering them because it's late and they wake me up I've told him to fuck off every time, plus Dean is no one to me now.” Genevieve said. Elias stood there looking at her. Her deep forest green eyes and vibrant red hair gave her this other worldly quality about her. Like she was some wood nymph or elf.

He brought her close and she looked into his green eyes and smiled as her hands player with his long brown hair. She jumped into his arms and he growled as they stripped each other. Her off-white skin was in another ball park when it came to his own tanned flesh. He laid her on the bed and kissed her passionately as he thrust inside her. There was no time for foreplay and it was a pity he loved to make her cum a few times just with his fingers and his tongue before he made her cum all over his cock. She arched into him and gripped his shoulders and he gripped her thighs running his hands down them and back up to her hips. This made her back arch more and she gasped into the kiss. “Eli that feels so good baby.” Genevieve said softly. “I love how soft you are Gen, how warm and wet you always seem to be for me at any time of the day.” Elias whispered as he kissed her breasts repeatedly.

She licked her lips and moaned as he rolled her already hard nipples between his calloused fingers. It always managed to send shivers down her spine when he touched her like this, hell when he touched her at all. She ran her hands into his hair as he lowered his mouth to one nipple and swirled his tongue around it sucking softly as he flicked it now. She moaned again as he kissed between her breasts as he moved to the other nipple. Her body was like his guitar he could play any melody or rift on it and it would sing for him. Although she was moaning and closing to screaming for him other than singing for him but he really didn’t care he loved anything she did. His hands gripped her hips and she cried out his name as she came for the first time that night.

He groaned at the way the walls of her pussy tightened around him and squeezed his cock tighter. He palmed her ass and lifted her hips up as he pushed deeper into her making her cum again. “Elias.” Genevieve screamed as she held onto his forearms her back arched sharply off the back her head buried deep into the pillow. He laid her back down and caressed her hips and up to her cheek kissing them repeatedly. “Think you can do that once more my love and I’ll paint your walls with my own release.” Elias whispered and kissed behind her ear. “Yes.” Genevieve panted and whimpered as she rolled her hips. He laughed and kissed her passionately as he felt her shaking under him. His thrusts now became sloppy and hard as he was getting closer to his own release and she need him to do that she needed him to cum for her like she had for him.

He thrust his tongue inside her mouth and she moaned against his lips as she gripped his hair keeping his lips to hers. She rolled her hips and met every thrust of his with thrusts of her own. He growled and threw his head back yelling as he came hard. “Genevieve!” Elias roared and she followed him as soon as she felt him fill her. “Elias!” Genevieve moaned as she came for the third time. They both panted as he laid on top of her and she always welcomed his weight on her she loved it, it made her fells special and safe. Once they were able to talk he spoke first. “I love you Gen so much more than I thought I could ever love someone.” Elias said. She froze and looked at him. “Eli you know I love you the same I always have it seems like, I never loved him like this.” Genevieve said. He kissed her forehead and she held him tighter. “I don’t want you to leave me.” Genevieve said softly. Elias looked at her and kissed her passionately. “I’m never leaving you Genevieve.” Elias vowed looking into her eyes.

The way the lights picked up his eyes that night was eerie as hell it felt like something was about to happen and she knew that it wasn’t going to be good. Dean was behind him the next time she looked at the monitor. “No.” Genevieve whispered. She had to watch she knew she couldn’t go out there she wasn’t supposed to be on TV. Dean grabbed him and yanked him up slamming him into the turnbuckle and she gasped. Roman and Seth were out there as well watching his back. She didn’t know what to do so she stood there and watched as Dean beat him to a pulp on TV and to add insult to injury he smashed Elias’s guitar over his head. Genevieve had, had enough she ran out and slid into the ring slapping dean knocking him off balance. She got on her knees and moved Elias’s hair from his face and kissed him softly. “Gen.” Elias whispered. She nodded and took his hand. “Who else would be kissing you handsome?” Genevieve asked teasingly.

“I need your help.” Elias said. She helped him up and got him to the trainer’s room. They didn’t need to send him to the hospital and that was a good thing. When thy got to the hotel he took a long hot shower and she waited for him to come out knowing that he would be pissed off at her when he got out. He got out and laid down on the bed with her. “I have him next week and I for one cannot wait to repay him for this.” Elias growled. “I guess you want me to find another hotel room and to move out when we get home?” Genevieve asked tentatively. “I want you to be with me next week I’ve cleared it with Stephanie and Triple H.” Elias said. “Eli.” Genevieve whispered and sniffed. He sat up and pulled her into his arms. “Shh my love I don’t blame you for this he choose to do this and he will pay for it.” Elias said. She looked up and he kissed her tenderly. “I am in love with you silly woman and he is not breaking us up that is all he is trying to do and I will not let him win.” Elias said.

Genevieve’s cell rang and she answered it without looking. “Ready to leave him now since I broke his face?” Dean laughed. “I love Elias more than I ever loved you Dean and you are not going to come between me and him.” Genevieve said. She hung up and Elias smiled kissing her softly. “That’s MY Girl.” Elias said. She laughed and they laid back and watched a movie. He rubbed her back and kissed her forehead as she slept in his arms that night he just couldn’t sleep he had too much on his mind. They hadn’t been together long but he loved her more than anything or anyone else outside his family. That was another thing his family loved her. When they spent Christmas with his parents and sisters they had raved about her to him after the Holiday was over.

The week and weekend went by so quick Genevieve wasn’t sure that it had happened at all. There she stood in an Elias shirt and jeans as she walked down the ramp with him for his match. Once the spotlight was on him she was moved back up the ramp to sit with the commentary team. They talked some during his performance but she never said a word. It wasn’t until Deans music started did she start to feel nervous and like she was going to throw up. She hated what he had become but she wasn’t about to leave Elias out there alone either. The match started and they went at it.

Elias had him on his ass in the middle of the ring with his neck at an odd angle putting pressure on it. When Dean got out of that they traded blows in the center of the ring until Elias gave him an upper cut that put him on his knees. Dean got up and shoved Elias into the corner delivering shoulder after shoulder into Elias’s midsection. Genevieve was on the edge of her seat the whole match until Dean was about to give Elias Dirty deeds and Elias turned it into Drift away and pinned him for the win. Genevieve ran down to the ring and jumped into his arms kissing him passionately. Elias held her tightly and stroked her hair as he put her on her feet. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere Gen, I love you baby.” Elias said. “I love you too.” Genevieve said.

They went to the back and he kissed her again. She ran her hands over him and he smiled as he pulled back. “I want to ask you something Gen.” Elias said. “I’m all ears Eli.” Genevieve said softly. He kissed her forehead and smiled at her. “Will you marry me Genevieve?” Elias asked softly. He held her hands in his and she teared up as he pulled the ring box from his guitar case. “Yes.” Genevieve said. He stood up and slid the ring on her hand and brushed away her tears. “I guess this means I always get to walk with Elias.” Genevieve said giggling. “Yes.” Elias said. She kissed him long and slow and he held her tightly as he stroked her long red hair. “I love you Elias.” Genevieve said. “I love you too Genevieve.” Elias said.

@team-elias @thegloriousdisaster @scuzmunkie @kittysilver86 @alexnine @2sweetqueen @loveroflive78 @iwritewwe @soulofaravenheartofawolf @crayzeebizkit @livelifebeautifully81 @wrestlingxbalorxrollins @balordominion @adriennegabriella @briqueenofthenorth @hardyfangirl3 @lauri3strode @calwitch @meremaidqueen @dolphinpink310

[yukheii]

college athlete!bts

notes: i’ve made minor edits and revisions to these, but they’re still true to the originals. still in the process of reposting from my old blog, bear with me, loves.

disclaimer: blanket disclaimers

KIM SEOKJIN ◦ [cr.]

“I’m going to side with Jungkookie next time you chew him out for being too hard on himself.”

Your voice pulls Seokjin above the waters that engulf his body. He hears you in waves of clarity, every other word drowned beneath the pool water as he completes his butterfly lap. He swims to the edge of the pool where you’re crouched down, a paper bag in one hand, a towel in the other.

He shakes his hair gently and laughs as you flinch away. He’s beautiful like this; in this pool, surrounded by the water he claims saves him, and you argue will swallow him up one day. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he doesn’t care, as long as you keep coming around to warn him.

He sweeps his wet hair back and away from his forehead. “That for me?” He points at the towel.

“No, it’s for the other guy in the pool,” you sit down, criss cross.

“I’m jealous of him then. He’s got a real pretty girl taking care of him.”

He hoists himself out of the water and stands next to you. You were never quite sure whether Jin was made and born to be a swimmer or whether being a swimmer sculpted the body he has. Something like an Adonis; well proportioned limbs beneath layers of muscle and the perfect amount of squish, lovely all the same. He always gives himself credit for that face of his—as he should, you think, it’s a pretty one—but that body.

That body that towers above you as he dries his hair and torso, wraps the towel around his waist and extends an arm.

“No way, this lo mein is mine,” you tell him, moving the brown bag behind your back.

Jin only laughs softly and shakes his head, “No, give me your hand, love. I think it would fit in mine swimmingly, don’t you agree?”

“Seokjin,” you blink, “I’m leaving.”

“Aww, come on that was a good one!”

MIN YOONGI ◦ [cr.]

“Kind of unfair that your boyfriend’s short as a stump, but better than half the team,” a sweaty, unhappy Seungcheol sits next to you.

You only chuckle and watch as Yoongi makes another perfect swish. “He’s persistent.”

“He’s crazy,” Seungcheol counters.

“That too,” you hum, “But you sealed your fate when you voted him captain.”

You lean back into the bleachers and watch as Yoongi instructs the rest of the team to run play seventeen again in preparation for their upcoming championship. Seungcheol is mid-sip of his water bottle when Yoongi calls out for him and you see his body visibly choke up.

“Choi, get off your ass, back on the court, and away from my girl.”

You snicker as you watch Seungcheol scurry back onto the court, mumbling something about how Yoongi has it out for him. His presence is soon replaced by that of your blonde haired boyfriend; and he places his hands on either side of you, looks down with little beads of sweat on the side of his face, and a slight smirk on his lips.

“Hi,” he sings after a minute of silence. You can’t help but laugh, sweeping his bangs out of eyes before returning the hello.

“You should give Coups a break, he’s tired,” you pout. “Besides, I thought you wanted me to be friends with your friends.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “When I said you should make friends, I meant with Seokjin and Namjoon, not these idiots.”

“Then why’d you invite me to sit in on your practice? Jin and Namjoon are on the swim team.”

“I figured you see me all hot and sweaty, get turned on, and then we’d go back to yours and have great sex.”

He chuckles as you hit his bicep and leans over slightly to kiss your forehead, while you mumble about how greasy he is. “Alright, fine, since you care about them so much, how about I end practice early, then you and me can go grab some food?”

“What, no great sex afterwards?”

Yoongi laughs, breathy yet full. “Shutup and get your stuff ready,” he tells you before walking back to center court. “We’ll see about that later.”

JUNG HOSEOK ◦ [cr.]

“Come on, babe, one more round!”

Of course he’s still jumping off the walls. Only Hoseok could manage to attempt to teach someone how to play tennis in the blazing hot sun for two hours and still have enough energy to run a marathon.

“I have a confession to make,” you huff, holding the ridiculously bright tennis ball in your hand, “I only asked you to teach me to play tennis for the aesthetic of the whole thing and because you look good in your uniform. Now can we please go back to your dorm and take a nap?”

Your words paint a heart shaped smile on his lips. He throws his head back with laughter—and suddenly it’s hard to tell whether you’re suffering because of the heat or his beautiful jawline. Probably both.

“You think I look good in my uniform?” He sniggers.

You roll your eyes, “The whole school thinks you look good in your uniform.”

He does though. He manages to not look ridiculous in his neon yellow shirt and matching tennis shoes. His calves are incredible and hidden behind his white shorts are the strongest pair of thighs you’ve ever seen. And somehow he’s pulling off his green, opaque visor.

“I didn’t ask about the whole school, I asked about you, sunshine.”

“Yes, Hobi, I just said that, stop being greasy,” you pout, “Now can we please get out of this heat?”

He laughs at your pain and if he weren’t so angelic you’d probably have already kneed him in the balls.

It’s too hot for touching but when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders you don’t push him away. “Alright, let’s go,” he kisses the top of your head and leads you off of the courts.

“For the record, you look really good in your uniform too,” he winks, “That skirt does wonders for your legs, babe.”

You take the racket out his hand and hit him atop his head, “Jung Hoseok, I told you to stop being greasy!”

KIM NAMJOON ◦ [cr.]

You make your way around the couch and settle down next to your boyfriend who’s watch the taping of his last swim meet for the tenth time today, at least.

“Only you could set the record for fastest backstroke and still be upset, Joonie.”

Namjoon works harder than anyone you know, whether it be at his school work or training. He’s constantly on the grind to improve himself, push himself to be a little better than he was yesterday. It’s admirable, but he’s also the most self-critical person on the planet.

“He was tailing me, ______. If I had been one stroke slower, I would have lost.”

“But you weren’t one stroke slower, Joon. You won.”

“But I could have—”

“You could shutup and pay attention to your girlfriend,” you interrupt with a smile. “I made popcorn.”

Namjoon’s eyes soften and a gentle smile graces his lips. You’re an angel in his eyes; why you choose to stick with him and his self-criticism and hectic practice schedules is beyond him. He only knows he’s grateful for it.

“You know I’m not supposed to eat that,” he sighs.

“Popcorn is healthy for you! Jin told me so.”

“Pretty sure you mean pizza, not popcorn.”

“Alright, then let’s go get pizza.”

“Baby, I can’t—”

“Can’t? That doesn’t sound like the attitude of a winner to me,” you pout, and his eyes grow at your use of his own words against him. 

When he doesn’t say anything, only looks down at your lap and sighs, you reach your free hand to cup his face, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Kim Namjoon, you just broke a regional record that hasn’t been broken in thirty years and you’re telling me you can’t let your girlfriend treat you to a slice of pizza?”

He kisses you with his soft lips and smiles back. “I love you, you know that?”

You peck his lips again and run your hands through his hair, “I know, Joon. But you should love yourself just as much.”

PARK JIMIN ◦ [cr.]

“You know, you kind of look like Elsa,” you hum.

“Like, the Disney princess?” he asks, “Why’s that?”

He takes your mitten-clad hands in his and leading you onto the ice. You stumble, but he’s there to catch you. “You know, with the blonde hair and the ice and everything.”

Jimin only smiles and emits a breathy laugh, “Whatever you say, love.”

You’re about to remark on his resemblance to the ice princess again, but Jimin soon starts skating backwards, dragging you along with him by the extension of your hands.

“Wah—Jimin, you said we’d go slow!” You yell and he makes circles around the rink, giggles flying at your distress.

“Going slow is no fun!” He quips, suddenly changing directions. The speed makes his bangs fly over his forehead and cover his eyes—and he really does look like Elsa, you think—or at least you try to think when you’re not thinking about how you’re going to die if he doesn’t stop.

“Jiminie!” you screech, as he comes to a sudden halt, holding you close to his chest. His eye smile is the only thing saving him from a serious beating right now. That and the fact that if he skated away, you couldn’t catch him in your wildest dreams.

“If you’re gonna wear my jersey, you’ve gotta go faster than two inches an hour, babe. I don’t want people thinking I’m in love with a wimp.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, then I’ll just wear Seokmin’s jersey.”

“Not a chance,” he rolls his eyes back at you.

You take in his wind brushed hair and flushed face. He scrunches his nose slightly, flashing a smile that reaches his eyes. You almost tilt your head wondering if this Park Jimin is the same boy who bodychecked a guy so hard he knocked his tooth out last Tuesday.

“Your nose is red.”

Jimin wraps his arms around your waist and shrugs, “It’s okay. The cold never bothered me anyway.”

KIM TAEHYUNG ◦ [cr.]

“Gross, Tae, get off of me, you’re all sweaty and grassy!” You shove your indeed sweaty and grass-stain infected boyfriend away from you to no avail.

Taehyung only giggles into your ears and hugs you closer, “I thought you said I look hot when I’m sweaty.”

“You look hot, but you smell gross. Tae, come on, this shirt is new.”

“That shirt is mine.”

You feel the heat rise to your face and shove him again. “You can’t even be here it’s a thirty second time out!”

He finally retreats and looks at you with messy hair and a rectangular smile.

“Kim! Get back here!” His coach yells on cue. Taehyung gives him a thumbs up, and you a quick kiss to cheek before running back to his team’s side, yelling about how you jinxed it. Only your Taehyung would think it’s appropriate to run to the sidelines to hug his girlfriend mid-time out.

“You two are gross,” Yoongi comments. Jungkook agrees with him.

“They’re cute, hyung,” Namjoon beams.

The whistle is blown and Taehyung is back in action, weaving the soccer ball between his feet and past the other team. He winks at you when he scores; Yoongi is seconds from barfing up his lunch. You only shake your head and watch ahead.

Tae’s team is quick to jump on him when he scores the winning goal. They carry him off to the sidelines as the game ends and players and spectators alike begin to pack up their belongings. Tae looks at you from across the field, gloriously sweaty and grass-stained, and mouths “now?” to you.

You can only giggle and nod your head. He runs and engulfs you in a warm (and overdramatic, according to Jungkook) hug. He’s spinning you around, his giggles swirling with yours and you feel like you’re floating—all of his sweat and stains forgotten. When you stop, he doesn’t give you time to congratulate him or scold you for messing up your—his—shirt; he kisses you, happily and deeply, grime and all.

Yoongi and Jungkook pretend to vomit in the background, but he doesn’t care. “I love you,” he beams, before kissing you again.

JEON JUNGKOOK ◦ [cr.]

There are pros and cons to dating a varsity athlete.

The pros include laying underneath your boyfriend as you “help” him do pushups and receiving a kiss each time he leans down; resting your head on said boyfriend’s toned chest; the feeling of his calloused hands ghosting along your sides while you cuddle on his futon; wearing his alternate jersey at games, despite it being too many sizes too big for your smaller frame; and cute picnic dates in the middle of an empty baseball field.

The cons include waking up at five in the morning to attend said picnic date.

“Come on, this is cute!” he exclaims as you take another bite into your breakfast sandwich. He hadn’t even opted for you two to sit in the bleachers—instead, setting up picnic over the pitcher’s mound.

You only stare back at him, thinking about what you wanna do more: kiss him or smack him. It is cute, you reason, so you won’t smack him. It’d be cuter if you didn’t have to wake up at five to do it, so you won’t kiss him either.

In lieu, you give him a soft smile. He sure is precious with that his two-row bunny smile he’s got.

Jungkook breaks your train of thought with a sudden squeal, “Ooh, come here, it’s starting.” He motions for you come over to his side of the small bump. You shuffle over, having given up on keeping your leggings clean, and sit next to him. He takes the blanket he’d kept in his lap and spreads it over your shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. (That’s another pro—those damn arms).

Jungkook points just over the edge of the top of the stadium where the sun can be seen poking out. The sky is a gorgeous yellow-orange hue as the ball of light makes it way high into the sky. You look up at him, smile as warm as the sunlight being cast on the two of you lean slightly to kiss his cheek.

“I guess this is cute,” you lean on his shoulder afterwards (pro number twenty-seven), and wrap your hands around his waist.

“Told you so,” he hums. You smile into his neck, because who would have thought star pitcher of the varsity baseball team, Jeon Jungkook would be into cheesy picnic dates and watching the sunrise?

“You’re cute,” you quip afterwards.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Jungkook, you’re my boyfriend.”

“How embarrassing.”