#It turned out less crack than i imagined and more fluff...

[fluentmoviequoter]

Wintery

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!vigilante!reader

Summary: Gotham winters are brutal, but your best friend Jason Todd and work friend Red Hood know how to combat the cold. Unfortunately, you're falling in love with both of them.

Warnings: reader and Jason don't know the other is a vigilante, fluff, brotherly teasing, kissing, more fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I have no idea where this idea came from but it wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to write it. I hope it's okay and feel free to let me know what you think!🤍

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Picture from Pinterest

Gotham winters are cold, windy, and relentless. There are few places to find refuge from the harsh bite of the chilling wind and fewer remedies to the wind-burned skin and seemingly permanent chapped lips.

Jason Todd, however, is a Gotham boy, born and raised, so he knows the importance of staying moisturized and protected in the winter. So, it's no surprise that he keeps lip balm in his pocket all winter.

No, it isn’t intimidating to see Red Hood putting Chapstick on, but having cracked lips is far more frightening. He finds quiet alleys, tipping his helmet up to combat dry lips before returning to his vigilante duties. Nightwing has only caught him once, and Jason is intent on never experiencing that level of brotherly torture (teasing) again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Since joining the small group of vigilantes, Red Hood has captured and kept your attention. Never saying more than a few words to you, he always seems nearby and eager to help you out of trouble, but you can’t get past that point.

Nightwing and Robin occasionally tell you their ideas to get him to open up to you, convinced there’s something between you, but you brush it off and admire the man in red from a distance.

The night wind is blowing hard enough you’re uncomfortable standing on such a high roof. You tuck yourself behind anything stationary, including Red Hood. 

Under the hood, Jason smiles to himself. He knows why you’re standing close to him, your concern for the wind mixing with an irrational idea that he will allow anything to happen to you. But, if you want to use him to block the wind from your pretty face, he’s happy to stay perfectly still. However, his gaze keeps dropping to your lips.

Jason watches you; he has been since you first stumbled upon them in a less than satisfactory suit. You were bleeding from a run-in with several muggers but smiling through your pain because you managed to make someone feel safe in Gotham; a rare feat unless you’re Batman. Instantly drawn to you, Red Hood has let himself get close enough to consider you a friend but not close enough to talk to you or worry incessantly about where you are through the day.

You say something, and Jason shakes his head to escape his memories of you, focusing on you and your dry-lipped smile. The winds are blowing up the building and into your face even as he blocks the worst of it, and your rosy cheeks amplify Jason’s growing concern. He wants to offer his jacket to you, even his chapstick – an unwelcome idea of kissing you to share it enters his mind, but he shoves it away. Or tries to; the imagined feeling of your lips on his is hard to shake.

After your question goes unanswered the second time, you wonder if Red Hood fell asleep under the helmet. He jerks sideways when you slide your hand into his pocket. His grip falls away from the holster on his thigh when he realizes it’s just you. (Though he’d never think 'just you' about anything.) You pull your hand out of the worn leather jacket, a small white tube in your grasp. Keeping your eyes on the small eye slits of the mask, you uncap the balm and put it directly on your lips.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling as you place it back in his pocket before turning away.

Anyone else, and he’d throw it away, unwilling to share such a personal item, but since he just thought about sharing it in a much different way, he doesn’t mind the idea of you doing it again. He’ll have to remember which pocket he put it in and leave it there for you, he decides.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It’s freezing,” you groan, rubbing your arms as you walk inside the warm apartment. “Why can’t we move to Metropolis?”

Jason laughs at you, his best friend. Since he developed what Dick refuses to call anything but “a crush” on his vigilante partner, he’s wondered what this thing with you is. You are his friend, of course, but there is something more there. Jason has never been good with feelings, and he’s in a strange spot between two women who affect him, similar yet completely different in how he responds.

“Because we can’t afford it,” Jason hums, welcoming you onto the couch beside him.

You slide your cold feet under his sweatpants-clad legs, sighing when he lays his arm over your shoulders.

“We who, Mr. Trust Fund Wayne?” you tease, leaning your head against his upper arm. “Thanks for inviting me over, though, even if I did get frostbite on the way.”

Jason chuckles, stopping short when he remembers something someone else said after fighting Mr. Freeze during a riot at Arkham. Shaking his head, he determines that he has a type.

“I’m stealing this,” you interrupt his reading, pulling a hoodie from the back of his couch.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, watching you pull it over your head. You feel warmer beside him after a few minutes, and when you dig a small tub of lip balm out of your pocket, Jason wonders if he should move to Metropolis.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where did it go?” Jason says to himself, barely audible through the voice modifier of the mask.

“Whatcha looking for?” you ask, dropping to the fire escape beside Red Hood. He doesn’t answer, but when you realize all his attention is focused on one pocket, you know. “Really? I need it again, too,” you lament.

Red Hood sighs, turning toward you. Your lips still look fine, with no sign of chapping in sight. Deciding he needs it more than you do, Jason seizes the opportunity.

Pushing his helmet up, he grabs your face between his warm, gloved hands. Pulling you against him, Jason presses his lips to yours, moving with you as the moisturizing gloss spreads across his lips.

“Better?” he asks, smirking before his face is hidden behind his helmet again.

Your face is still in his hands as you nod. “Nightwing took it,” you whisper.

Jason rolls his eyes and leans forward, whispering, “Who needs it when I have you?”

“You do,” you reply, dumbfounded and breathless from the kiss you’ve admittedly been daydreaming about. “I got mine from you.”

Red Hood laughs, and it warms you from the inside out. You think for a moment you’ve heard that laugh before, but then the idea disappears.

✯✯✯✯✯

The next day, you beat Jason back to his apartment after leaving the manor. Letting yourself in, you walk to his bookshelf to see if he’s gotten any new books. A leather jacket is lying on the floor beside the shelf, and when you pick it up, something falls out of the pocket.

“Hey,” Jason greets, closing the door behind him.

Turning, you hold the chapstick up, looking at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Yeah?”

He comes to your side, his brows pinched. 

“Are you-“

You drop everything in your hands before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to you. As you kiss him, everything clicks into place.

Falling in love with Jason and Red Hood simultaneously wasn’t some cruel trick of fate or a mistake… you’d been with the same guy all along.

Pulling back, Jason takes a moment before opening his eyes. He blinks at you several times, trying to speak and failing.

“Really?” you ask, tilting your head. “I see that made a much bigger impact on me than it did on you.”

Jason still can’t answer, his mind going over each similarity that he should have caught on to, each mirrored movement or similar response. Your kiss, though… your kiss is unmistakable. He believed his lies about the touches and the words, but nothing can compete with your affection.

“Thank you,” Jason whispers, pulling you close again.

“For what?” you ask, brushing your fingers through the white streak in his hair. “It took me way too long to realize.”

“For everything,” he answers before kissing you again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your first patrol after learning not just Red Hood but everyone’s true identities is interesting. Bringing your own protection against the current blizzard, you're grateful for the foresight after you get separated from Jason.

Waiting near Arkham and shivering in the cold, you don’t hear the crunch of boots on snow until Red Hood grabs your waist and spins you around. Without his helmet, only a domino mask to protect his identity (pointless in the dark storm), he doesn’t wait before pressing his lips to yours, eager to try a new flavor and get more of you. After waiting so long and being tortured by his tragic decision to love two women at once, Jason deserves to show you how much he cares for you twice as often as he wishes. And if you start buying crazy lip balm flavors to mess with him, he’ll love you even more for it.

[jasminsstories]

[01:22 am]

pov: you want to wait until zayne comes home, but he works overtime again. when he comes home he finds you asleep already.

fluff. just pure soft fluff. use of pet names (angel, love). zayne x reader

your tired eyes wandered to the top left of your smartphone screen where the numbers of the current time was displayed. “seems like zayne is working overtime again huh”, you muttered to yourself and a yawn left your mouth. your fingers opened the message from him earlier that day where he wrote how we wanted to come right to your place after he is done working. those were the last words he left you. it seemed like the cardiologist got too busy right after. you didn’t even realize how your heavy eyes closed on their own while you read the message again and your phone display darkened right afterwards.

you didn’t know what exactly woke you but you noticed a shifting on the bed and a rustling of the bed sheets. “mhmn..?”, you turned on your back and managed to crack your eyes slightly open. however due to the darkness of the room you couldn’t see or make out anything. “go to sleep again, angel”, you heard a familiar low voice whisper and the warmth of a hand caress your cheek, “sorry, i didn’t want to wake you up.” your drowsy eyes closed again in relaxation, because you were now certain who the person next to you was. so you just leaned your head into his hand and rubbed your cheek slightly against it with a soft sigh, “zayne.. you late.” your sleepy brain was not quite able to form a coherent sentence, but the chuckle from your lover revealed that he couldn’t care less and probably even found it adorable. “i got a sudden emergency operation and it took longer than expected”, the raven haired doctor answered and that’s when he made out your phone right next to you, laying there discarded. carefully he picked it up to put it to safety on your bedside table. you could feel the warmth of his body loom over you while he did this. “…you waited for me?” “mhmm.. yeah” “i didn’t want to make you wait, i’m sorry” you could already imagine his furrowed eyebrows and the apologetic gleam in his orbs behind your closed eyes, so you just shook your head and reached your arms upwards in hopes to find his body. you were lucky and without hesitation you enclosed his broad form to pull him towards you. he let out a surprised sound and instinctively quickly propped his hands against the mattress to prevent his weight completely fall onto you. “doesn’t matter- you are here now”, you mumbled and nuzzled your nose into his hair. a fond smile spread across zayne’s lips and he felt how his exhausted body absorbed the warmth and comfort you provided him even when you were half asleep. slowly he shifted his weight to lay down beside you, snaking his arms around your body to completely engulf you in a hug. you felt his familiar smell and warmth wrap around you and you immediately nestled your head against his chest. the rhythmical, strong beats of his heart, pulled you to sleep again. “i will always come back to you”, he said quietly, not sure if you were still able to hear his words. “good night, my love” zayne pressed a loving kiss on the crown of your head, before he closed his eyes and the world of dreams called him.

✨ note: this got way longer than i thought and intended to, but i’m so down bad for this man. had to get my brain rots out somehow. it’s been really long since i wrote something like this and english is not my first language so excuse me if there are mistakes or it’s a bit wonky on some ends. thinking about writing more zayne stuff in the future, but i’m not sure if there are people who would want to read these ><

[chimielie]

sun seeker

summary: you are a princess, a future queen. somehow, this is still not enough.

word count: 1.5k

cw: fighting, oikawa’s an asshole (sorry), arranged marriage/royalty au, fake history stuff, angst to fluff (i guess), i’m not telling you who the love interest is but like. Guess, misogyny, ambiguous ending

a/n: if i tell you that i imagined a whole other side for oikawa will you forgive me? also this was supposed to be a short drabble related to between lightning strikes but it very much was not. my bad

Your betrothed is unexpectedly quiet.

It had only been a few days since you met the crown prince, having been sequestered in your father’s court in the country for most of your life, learning to fill the seat of someday-Empress. The capital is huge, bustling with people, always noisy—or so you surmised from within your veiled carriage. You had thought, as you bowed before the Emperor and Imperial Heir, that your life was finally beginning, finally growing beyond the narrow confines of etiquette training and religious rituals.

Instead, you felt your dreams shrivel and die as your daily routine proceeded exactly as it had for close to two decades. The only difference was time mandatorily spent with Tooru, who seemed… less than enthused by your match.

You had dreamed of someone who chafed against authority as you had, who felt as bound by propriety despite the privilege of your positions. Alas, you found him to be both sullen and arrogant, eager to rule but in denial of his own dissatisfaction with a noblewoman such as yourself. It made you want to scream. You had not chosen the circumstances of your birth, the path which you had been led to walk. It was not your fault that fate had pushed you two so forcefully together without regard for your desires, ambitions, or personalities.

“I was told you visited the temple this morning,” you say, watching your fiancé pause a long sip of tea, his brown eyes temporarily widening. Your face slips momentarily into a frown; you cannot conceal your frustration with his clear disdain for such small talk but unwillingness to bring anything more engaging to your table.

“Yes,” he says finally, setting down his cup. Light brown liquid sloshes over the rim and onto his fingers; he wipes them on his robes without care for the expensive fabric. “There are many rituals that must be done to ensure the most auspicious wedding possible.” His voice catches noticeably on the word wedding. You take a sip of your own tea to hide your grimace.

It is lukewarm. How long have you been sitting here, trying to force civility?

“Did it go well?” You ask in turn, your pitch straining. Behind you, one of the imperial guards snorts. When you try to discern which of them broke character, they have all returned to a stoic, uniform position. You straighten your posture.

“It was satisfactory,” Tooru says. You hear the snort again, and the crown prince’s lips twitch, just barely.

You shut your eyes tightly for a moment, trying to take in a deep breath. Your chest feels tight, though, bound by heavy fabrics and scarlet ribbon. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere for the air to go.

“What did you do this morning?” He asks, and you throw the cup at him.

His Imperial Highness is athletic beneath his aristocracy, and he dodges it easily. It bounces off one of the silk screens behind him and lies, cracked in two, in a puddle of lukewarm tea on the floor. You bury your face in your hands and scream through your teeth, a short, guttural noise that carves a little more space in your chest to breathe.

When you look up again, he stands over you, his perfect brows pulled into an expression of concern. You know without looking that two of the Imperial Guard are standing behind you, hands on their weapons.

“You have asked me that,” you say slowly, fighting to push the words out through the red haze of rage, “twice now. And you asked what my plans were yesterday. And the answer is always the same: wait in my rooms for you to call, because I am a painting of a woman waiting for you to walk in and criticize my form and decide that I am satisfactory.”

“I didn’t—” he says, and for a moment you become a fairytale heroine instead of a scorned princess, sitting on the floor looking up at him with despondent eyes that betray your desire to be loved. “This is what we are,” he decides finally, expression no longer concerned. “I think perhaps you need some rest.”

“You cannot be serious,” you seethe, pushing yourself to your feet. One of the guards puts a hand on you, ready to restrain you.

Tooru turns, his back facing you. He glances back as he exits, tone bored, eyes cold.

“Do not worry yourself,” he tells you, “I still find you satisfactory.”

You lunge after him, but two strong hands clamp down on your arms, hauling you back. You writhe and kick, but when you look up at your guard, his face is impassive, his eyes distant.

“I hate you,” you snarl, and watch as his eyes flicker down to your face. Seeing you. “I hate you,” you say again, but it sounds much more like a sob.

You can’t sleep that night.

The moon is full, high and bright, and every time you close your eyes, you see visions of your future. A glorified concubine, living in an expensive sanitarium, surely to be driven to insanity before your husband can ascend the throne.

You sit up, wild-eyed, and throw your door open with more force than you realize.

“Princess,” says your guard, startled.

“I can’t sleep,” you say, your heart thrumming in your chest. “Hajime, please, I can’t sleep.”

“I can’t let you out of your quarters,” Iwaizumi Hajime, head of your security detail, says.

“I don’t want—” you start, and he gives you a knowing look. “I know. Please just come and—talk with me. A little.”

He sighs, deeply, a rush of wind through cypress trees, and follows you into your room.

“Sit,” you order him, and the moonlight affords you the ability to see his green eyes flash with panic. “I am your future queen. Sit.”

He sits, trying to maintain his stern, professional face, even as you peel his helmet off and run your hands through his flattened hair.

“You lied to me,” you hum, and he jerks under your touch, façade breaking. “You told me Tooru never shut up.”

“I knew him a long time ago,” says Hajime. One of the few who had come with you to Kyoto, he had been raised here and come to your father’s court as a youth to learn to fight. “He’s not—he’s stubborn. He’ll soften eventually.”

“I don’t care,” you say bitterly. “Why did you hold me back?”

“He’s the prince,” Hajime says, his voice rasping with exasperation.

“I am the princess,” you say, and his lips press together into a straight line.

“My princess,” he murmurs. Hajime has always run warm, much more suited for Kyoto’s climate than your hometown’s. When he wraps an arm around you and pulls you against his side, you can feel his body heat through his armor.

“You let him say horrible things to me,” you say. His hold on you tightens.

“He is my oldest friend.”

“I am your—” you sigh heavily, pushing away from him, looking out at the moon. “I am nothing to you. I will live, though I am ungrateful. Many would say I am the luckiest woman in all the land.” The air is very cold without his touch.

“You are not nothing to me,” Hajime says, and you smile wistfully at his selective hearing.

“At least I am satisfactory.” You don’t see what happens, but Hajime’s helmet clatters loudly on the floor a moment later. “What—”

“He is my oldest friend,” he repeats himself, but his voice is low, so deep in his chest you can barely hear him. It does not matter; you can feel his words. “I wanted to kill him.”

Your lips part on a silent gasp, and he leans in close, so close that you can nearly taste him. You’ve always loved the way he smells, something base that relaxes you instantly. You haven’t been this close to him since you left home.

“He’s the Emperor,” he continues, “I can’t hurt him. I held us back.”

“Us?” You ask, his fingers suddenly tightly intertwined with yours.

“Ask me to help you leave,” he says, and you shut your eyes against his gaze, frightening and familiar all at once. “Ask me to take you away from here. I had—I have plans, and you will not be happy with him, Princess. You will be more than satisfactory, satisfied—you will be loved.”

Something knotted tightly unspools in you, red threads laying themselves out in perfect lines. You duck your head and nod against his shoulder, face rubbing against the metal of his armor.

You aren’t likely to succeed, you know, no matter how thoroughly Hajime has planned. Your fiancé will look for you: a stubborn man, like he had said. You do not know if his disdain for you or his love for Hajime will protect you. You could both die.

“Take me away,” you say, voice ringing out like a queen’s.

The moon, at its fullest cycle, chases its estranged wife into the day. The crown prince wakes without his betrothed. The world only spins forward.

[qqtxt]

omgomgomg i cant let this thought go help meee but imagine the cliché bad dream trope with txt specifically the one where reader wakes up from a bad dream where the dream version of bf!txt was cheating on them then they wake up and get angry at irl txt lmao (im not really thinking angst but lighthearted and soft hours)

*smacks them awake with a pillow*"WHO IS SHE?!"

Them: 👁👄👁 "Babe I just woke up wdym..."

oh my goodness this is too real. i have done something similar to my bf before and he's really just 💧👁👄👁💧 this made me giggle so i just had to write a little something! I'm still a little stumped with my studies but i really wanted to write something out so this is a bit short and not really proofread! so apologies in advance but i do hope it's okay! 💖

[🌸] bitter dream, sweet reality w/ txt

✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / fluff, crack 🌸🤡 / idol!txt / non.idol!you / soobin and yeonjun get roasted for nothing ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 400 words for each member / altogether, word count: 1,591 words ✿ in which you dreamt that he cheated on you and you smack their face with a pillow [masterlist 🌸] / other members under the cut!

[🐰] soobin  soobin lets out a whine when he feels a smack to the face. as he opens his eyes, he flinches when he notices you're already looking at him with a frown on your face. the worry overtakes him too quickly as he sits up, hands to your shoulders, "hey... you okay?"

"how can you ask that when you did what you did?" you mutter under your breath, looking away from him with a huff. he gapes, blinking a couple of times to recuperate. 

"i-i just–what did i–"

"you cheated on me. in my dream. you suck."

initially, soobin's stumped. listening to your words, he was ready to apologise until he realises that–"wait, in your dream? i cheated? on you?" he chuckles when the words sink in, and he watches how you cross your arms in front of your chest. "you can't be serious, right? why would i ever cheat on you?"

when you press your lips to a thin line and refuse to look at him, he takes it as his cue to–"ah..." he hums softly, relenting as he wraps his arms around you. it was easy enough to curl you in given that he makes use of his figure; effectively nudging you towards him and engulfing you in his embrace. "i apologise on behalf of dream soobin, but real life soobin won't ever do that," he gives you a gentle shake, "hm?"

"hm," you nod, putting your arms around him to snuggle closer towards him. sure, you might've hit soobin in the face with the pillow but the way he's able to hug you like this might've been all the more worth it as he smiles into the side of your face like a hopeless romantic.

[🦊] yeonjun yeonjun nearly falls off the bed as he comes to wake from the hit to the face. he can't quite believe he's woken up just from a hit but when he snaps his eyes open and turns to the side, he's a mumbling fish.

"what?! who? what's going on?" he frantically looks around, and then he spots you sitting up with a pillow in your hands, nearly looking like you're about to squish it to death. "yah..." he murmurs, a hand reaching out to you but his brows furrow when you dodge his touch, "what's wrong?"

"you cheated on me."

his eyes visibly widen as he swallows.

"me? when?"

"in my dream. last night. i don't like you."

he didn't intend to but you make it very, very hard not to smile. the corner of his lips already tug upwards at the thought of you being frustrated at the fact you thought he would cheat on you, or even comprehend that.

"look at me, please?" he tries to reach out to you and this time he manages to put a hand on the pillow you're holding. he tugs at it and you let go of the pillow so he can put it back next to him as he puts his hands in yours to give a squeeze. "c'mon now, the quicker you look at me, the faster we can go back to sleep."

you reluctantly look at him and that's when you see it. the way his eyes look at you with love, overflowing with warmth. the way he's so infatuated with you that he couldn't ever, possibly do it.

"how could i ever cheat on you when i get to look at you look at me like this? do i need to run up to the rooftop to profess my love to you to the entire world? because i would, let me just grab my slippers and–"

you make a noise that crosses between a whine and grumble, squeezing his hands. that alone was enough for yeonjun to be able to get you to lie down next to him as he cuddles you in bed until you fall asleep with a smile on both of your faces.

[🐯] beomgyu  beomgyu merely groans at the soft plush feeling he feels on his face. he doesn't bother opening his eyes, only reaching out blindly until he hooks his arm around what feels like your waist and he pulls. he whines a little when you don't oblige it makes him peel one eye open to see you frowning at him. instinctively, he shrugs it off and shifts closer towards you instead, nuzzling against the side of your arm, "what time is it? it still looks dark to be awake..."

when he doesn't hear a response, he huffs and opens his eyes, now noticing the way you're still frowning.

"nawh... what's wrong? can't sleep?"

"i was peacefully sleeping until you decided to cheat on me in my dream."

his first instinct is to laugh, then drag poor, innocent yeonjun into this.

"the day i ever cheat on you is the day that yeonjun-hyung turns into a bird,"

"..."

"...okay, not funny. but look at me," he sits up on his elbows, turning to look at you properly even though he has crust in his eyes and he looks like he needs to sleep for another year and a half. "i'm so hopelessly in love with you that i still feel like i don't see you enough,"

"i'm with you every night," you counter, with a scoff of laugh that he holds onto with a grin, "exactly," he nods. "so how can i possibly cheat on you?"

when you don't respond, he knows he's won when he's able to lay back down and lure you into his arms.

"better?" he hums, burying his face in your neck as you cuddle against his chest, as he moulds into your back with a sigh. "better."

[🐿] taehyun  taehyun's half-sleepy, half-confused when he wakes up from the fluff of a pillow that greets him awake. it takes him a while to process that okay, i'm awake and to notice that oh, you're the one who woke me up when he notices the pillow in your hands, a frown etched to your lips, brows furrowed. he sighs and sits up, tilting his head at you, "can't sleep?"

you keep silent, fidgeting with the pillow that taehyun shakes his head.

"c'mon, pretty thing. i can't help unless you tell me what's wrong," he shifts a little closer, placing a hand on top of yours, lifting his brows just a little on instinct, "hm?"

he sees how your features change in the dark and he shouldn't laugh but he does when you're all pouty and sulky.

"you're a cheater, kang taehyun."

"me?" he snorts, giving your hands a squeeze, "since when?"

"since last night, in my dream."

you watch as your words seep into his brain, and it shows on his face when his lips turn from an 'o' to a small smile.

"that's not fair, now is it? i can't control dream taehyun, but at least i can control real-life taehyun," he moves to wedge his hand between yours and grips onto one of it, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, "and real-life taehyun would never do that to you."

"promise?" you know you sound childish, maybe even a little irrational but it's the way taehyun nods with such firmness and genuity, even locking pinkies with you that makes you feel at ease, "promise."

[🐧] kai kai is the definition of clueless and flustered upon being smacked to wake with a pillow to the face. though, he's surprisingly not as panicky as imagined when he sits up with a sharp intake of breath, eyes rapidly blinking as he adjusts to the darkness of the room and calls for your name softly.

"are you okay?" he mutters, rubbing his eyes as he sits up, half-lidded.

"no, because you," with another pillow hit to the chest, he oofs back onto the bed despite trying to sit up, "cheated on me."

he remains laying down on the bed, moving his hand from his eyes with a chuckle.

"what's so funny?" you huff, nudging him with your weapon (pillow).

"me cheating on you is like saying soobin-hyung willingly signed a gym membership."

"...do you think this is funny?"

"y/n," he sits up, testing the waters to see if you'd hit him again but when you lower your weapon down, he smiles at you so sweetly, it's making you feel a little guilty for waking him up like this and he's still so sweet to you. "i literally flew back ten hours just so i can be with you for two days before i'd have to leave again. i'd still do it again and again because i love you so much. do you think i'd cheat on you?"

"then why'd you cheat on me in my dream?"

he shrugs, "i can't answer that. that's not me."

when you don't say anything, he sighs and peels the pillow from your hands so he can place it back on the bed. then, he crawls over to you, wrapping his arms around you to carefully lure you back to where you belong; in his arms, side by side in bed.

"you don't actually think i'll cheat on you, do you?" he murmurs, rubbing your stomach as he hooks his chin on your shoulder.

you shake your head and lean back to his touch, "no, but it felt real. and i didn't like that feeling..."

"mm..." he hums, "that doesn't sound like it feels nice. but do you feel a bit better now?"

you nod, lapping your hands over his as your eyes close, "yeah, much better now."

[activesplooger]

ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ | ᴠᴏx x ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Notes: (MDNI) SORRY ITS ALMOST BEEN A MONTH I'VE BEEN BUSYYY. feedback is greatly appreciated!

Summary: Confronting Vox and attending a meeting! CW: Angst, platonic heartbreak, fluff, reference to pt. 3 paragraph 2 (hint hint). Word Count: 2,626

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Masterpost!

The room fell dead silent. Vox sat in his chair looking unamused and bored as he waited for you to speak. A hint of dread in his eyes, like he knew this was coming. You open your mouth to speak, yet, no words come out. It's hard to articulate everything you need to say along with how you should even start a conversation like this.

All these years of anger and a hankering for confrontation. Yet, here you are, the opportunity laid out in front of you and all you can do is stare in silence.

Vox exhales roughly in impatience, "Are you gonna talk or-". "What's wrong with you?" you blurt out. Yeah... That was definitely not the right way to start this conversation.

Vox quirks an eyebrow and glances at one of his monitors displaying the time, "Can you speed this up?" he huffs dismissively, "I have things to do.". At that moment, his audacity led you to find the words to speak, "No! I can't!" you step closer, waving a pointed finger at him sternly, as if you were a mother scolding a child, "I have waited far too long for you to just disregard this as if it's some type of chore! Now, you are gonna sit there and listen while I talk!." Vox's eyes widen as he straightens out his posture. Surprisingly, your little rant seemed to catch his attention. Taking a deep breath, you begin to speak calmly, "Look, ever since that day- the one with the whole Alastor thing- you've been... different, to say the least. Meaner, colder-". "Like I wasn't those things before then." he chimes in defensively. "Don't interrupt!" you begin, "And, you know what I mean... Even if you weren't the greatest person before, it got way worse after... It wasn't just that either... You're more distant now... and cruel..." "Well, what am I supposed to do about it? You think I'm gonna do a 180 just because you 'called me out'?" Vox laughs bitterly, "Nice try, sweetheart, I've come up with worse things to say about myself." Your face contorts to one of confusion and concern. Did he just openly admit to self-loathing? And brag about it?! This was gonna be a long talk... "Was that supposed to be a flex? You know what, that's beside the point," you say.

"Then what is the point?!". he says exasperated.

"The point is that ever since your fight with Alastor you've been a major shithead!" You snap, narrowed angry eyes meeting his red ones. "So what?!" Vox pushes on the arms of his chair as he gets up, a frustrated scowl etched across his features. "So? SO?!" your eyes bore into him with a fierce glare, stepping closer until you're less than a foot apart from him, "So I wanna know what happened! I wanna know what Alastor did to make you such an INSUFFERABLE PRICK.". Vox looks at you as if you had said the most offensive thing imaginable, "I'm the bad guy? I'M THE FUCKING BAD GUY? No, you don't get to do this. You don't KNOW me. You don't know what happened that day!". "Then tell me!" you plead sharply. Vox's voice glitches as he speaks, "₦Ø!".

"Why?" you ask, pretty much at the end of your rope," you can't put all these walls up and act like a douche for some big ominous reason only to shut people out when they ask!". "You don't know what you're talking about!" he dismissively replies. Letting out a sharp huff, you repeat, "For the love of Lucifer- Then fucking tell me!"

"I CAN'T" he yells, breathing heavily before speaking in a softer tone, "I can't... you don't know how badly he fucking hurt-" a voice crack cuts him off. Bringing a large hand to cover his mouth, he swiftly walks past you to avoid you seeing him. You weren't certain, but you could've sworn you saw his eyes water... Turning your body to face him, you watch as he walks to the edge of the platform and sits, legs dangling off the edge just above the water. He watches the sharks swimming below him, taking a deep breath before he murmurs, "Just- Drop it. Okay?". Ugh. You hated that you felt bad for the fucker. You shouldn't feel bad, you had every right to leave him here wallowing in self-pity. But, you didn't. Despite everything, you just couldn't leave it there... You kept telling yourself that you just wanted to yell and make him feel horrible for everything he did but, in reality, you wanted him to go back to normal. At this point, you wonder if he can be normal anymore... Still, there was no harm in trying... Curse you and your savior complex.

Before you can second guess yourself, you walk over and sit beside him. Your hand reaches out and hovers over his shoulder hesitantly. After a brief moment of contemplation, you shake your head and rest your hand back down beside you.

"I really loved him, you know..." Vox quietly admits. Eyes widening to the size of bowling balls, your head sharply turns to face him. Vox looks back at you and groans, "Not like that!". You let out a soft "oh" in response, your expression relaxing as you turn to look back out at the vast array of sharks.

A sharp exhale leaves Vox's lips, "What I meant was that he was my best friend... I told him everything, trusted him, loved him... I loved him more than I've ever loved anyone or anything in my life.". You nod and gaze sympathetically at him as he explains. "I was too blinded by this idea that Alastor could never hurt me to realize that the whole thing was completely one-sided. I told him everything, but I was too dense to realize that he didn't tell me ŞⱧł₮! That smiling bastard just wanted me to spill my guts so at the right moment, he could use it against me... and he did..." "Oh," you start, "so that night is when he-" "Yeah.". Vox rests his elbows on his knees, hunching over and resting his head in his hands, "I invited him over to join the Vees and- fuck.". As he cusses, his voice croaks, and tears well up in his eyes once more. "And," he proceeds, "he denied me. When I got mad and asked him why he said, "Why would I ever want to do something so frivolous as working with a vain incompetent TV? I know you Vox. And this isn't what you think it is."". You speak, a bit astonished, "Shit... And that's all because he didn't like your business proposal?" "Yeah, I mean, I didn't react calmly to his rejection by any means but still. Nothing warranted that kind of reaction... Anyway, then we got into an argument. I said horrible things I didn't mean, and he said even worse things that he did mean... As a last resort, I tried hypnotizing him, I was just so desperate, I couldn't believe what he was saying to me... And that didn't go over well since he beat the shit out of me after..." As he explains, the pieces of information start clicking together in your head, "Oh yeah... and that's when I found you-" "Yep. That's when you found me."

…

A familiar silence fills the air after Vox stops explaining. His expression is thoughtful as he looks down at the sharks below him, as if he’s debating on whether or not to break the silence.

Your eyes are fixed on him as he looks out, unable to look away. Before, you saw him as this powerful, callous, sadistic overlord… But now, all you see is a broken sinner. A tired defeated sinner. Just like everyone else in Hell. Just like you.

A few minutes of silence roll by, the only sounds being the buzzing of monitors and the occasional quiet splash of water. Vox takes a deep breath, “I almost died that day… That is if you hadn’t saved me.”. Not knowing how to respond, you stayed quiet.

He turns to meet your gaze, “I never thanked you.”.

“You did not.” you respond matter-of-factly, with a hint of bitterness in your tone.

Vox’s eyes meet yours with sincerity, “Well, thank you.”

A soft smile grows on your lips, “You’re welcome.”

Looking back out at the water, he apologizes, ”-And sorry.”. Your eyebrows furrow, “For?-“.

“For being an asshole,” he states flatly. "Oh yeah..." you reply with a casual tone. Vox looks at you with an almost-offended look. "No hesitation, really? No, "Mr. Vox you could never be an asshole!"", he says half-jokingly. You chuckle and roll your eyes, "No way in here would I ever say that.". The two of you share a short-lived bittersweet laugh before Vox's tone grows serious again, "Seriously though, you didn't deserve that... no one did...". You sharply exhale, not saying anything in return. He was right. He was an asshole and he wasn't off the hook for it because he had some backstory to prove it. You felt bad for him, but it felt worse to be mistreated and see others be mistreated by him.

"Earlier, when you said I grew distant... You're right, I was- or, am," he affirms... "I know," you respond, not making eye contact with him anymore as your mind races with thoughts of his maltreatment. "Yes, but do you know why?". This seems to snap you out of your thoughts. Your mind is screaming 'YES', however, you keep it casual and nod slowly.

Vox takes a deep breath, "I stopped being friends with you and well everyone because I don't want another Alastor in my life...".

"What about Val and Vel?" you inquire.

"That's different" he shifts over, swinging his legs over the edge and onto the platform, sitting crisscrossed in front of you, "Val and Vel are... business partners. I only really keep them around for appearances.".

"How charming," you say sarcastically.

"I just thought you should know," he says softly, eyes never leaving yours, "I didn't want to hurt myself again, so I distanced myself and didn't give anyone a reason to like me.". Fuck. You wanted to just forget everything and go back to normal, but you know that can't happen. After all, these are just meaningless words. He hasn't even promised to get better or at least try to! You need time to process everything and he needed time to get his shit together. Not everything could be fixed in this one moment, and you both knew that.

Silence fills the room once more, there's nothing left to say now that everything is out in the open. 'It's not your job to fix him' keeps repeating in your head, as if to convince yourself of it. His eyes stay fixed on you with a slight frown on his face. Maybe you should go.

Pushing off the floor to get up, a large hand grasps at yours, "Wait-". You stumble a bit when he grabs at your hand, "Wh-".

"I really need you to know that I'm sorry," he pleads, "Y/N I know I'm an asshole that you could never forgive but trust me, I hate myself just as much as you hate me... please...".

Taking your hand back, you sigh and step back. You look down at his pleading, desperate form, "I never said I didn't forgive you... but that doesn't mean that what you did and what you're continuing to do is okay by any means... I can't keep forgiving you Vox, and frankly, I'm the only person that will even forgive you to begin with. You need to change. You can get better, I know you can. I've seen you better...". And with that, you leave, not bothering to turn back. You know that if you look back now at his sorry-ass you'd stay. And what good would staying do?

You've done enough. The rest was up to him.

-- The blaring sound of your alarm wakes you up. Groggily sitting up, you rub your eyes and hop out of bed. Today's an important day, you had to accompany Vox to an important meeting with the overlord Carmilla Carmine.

After a much-needed cup of coffee, you take a shower, letting the soothing hot water wash the grime of yesterday off you. As you wash up, you can't help but wonder what today would be like... 'Would Vox be nicer? Would he stay the same?'. Questions plagued your mind throughout getting ready.

Stepping out of the shower, you put on a robe and plug in your hair dryer to style your hair. You style your hair and put on your make-up after. Glancing over to check the time, you panic a bit, 'Shit, I'm gonna be late if I don't haul ass!'. Hurriedly, you put on your uniform: a form-fitting white blouse and navy blazer, a teal and navy tie, navy pants, and black stiletto heels. Taking one final glance in the mirror, you leave for work.

Pulling into your parking space, you speed walk into work, worried that Vox will be pissed if you make him late for his meeting. You push open the large circular doors to his office and hurry down the walkway. Vox is sitting in his chair with an annoyed expression as an employee stands beside him. Of course, your nosy ass wanted to see what was happening, so you stood and watched.

Neither Vox nor the employee had noticed you as you eavesdropped. Vox sits with a hand pinching the bridge of his nose, gritting his teeth as he holds back his anger, "You want a what?". "A raise, sir." the employee squeaks. The hand that was previously pinching his nose drags across his face as he tries to restrain his anger, "Why the ₣Ữ- ahem- Why would I do that?".

You could tell Vox was trying to not berate the employee. An involuntary smile crept across your lips. 'He's trying...'. "W-Well because I've been working here for a long time and-" the staff member goes on and on, stuttering about why they should get a raise. Vox felt frustration rising in him as the employee went on. Vox rose up from our chair quickly before the staff member could continue any longer, "Fine! Just-" he pointed a large teal claw towards the door, "GO!". The employee says their thank-you's as they swiftly rush down the walkway.

His eyes land on you, standing there with a grin, "What that look for?". "What? Oh! Nothing, just here to remind you of your 10:00 meeting with Carmilla," you respond. "Oh," he begins, "right, let's go.".

-- A sleek black VoxTech limo chauffeurs you and Vox to the meeting. The ride was fairly quiet, and a tad awkward since you both didn't know how to talk normally after what went down yesterday. Luckily Carmilla's office was a short ride from the Vee Tower, so you didn't have to sit in awkward silence for too long. Upon arrival, the two of you briskly walk into her office so as to not be late. When you walk in, Carmilla and Vox exchange formal greetings and pleasantries 'How are you' 'Nice to see you' blah blah blah. Carmilla's sharp eyes fell on you after they finished the courteous exchange, "And who would this be?".

Vox's eyes flicker to you, then back to Carmilla, "Oh. This is Y/N, my assistant... and friend."

-

ITS DONE WNIWEHIWHFOUIWHEI. i hope you guys liked it! lmk if u wanna be tagged for future chaps! if theres any grammar mistakes or parts that dont make sense lmk!

-

TAG LIST:

@lovelyemily, @preppyfellaa, @diffidentphantom, @lil-glum, @leonotlara,

@matpatsstuff, @rapunzelbro, @n0tmentallystable, @that-one-person-blue If I missed anyone or incorrectly added anyone, let me know!

[lefarte]

Hallo, may I make a soft Levi funger x reader request? 💜

So polite heheh yes of course. My first request, is it cause he’s my profile picture 👀 ? You didn’t specify if you wanted headcanons or more of a ficlet (is that a word?) so I just sort of did my best I hope this is decent 🩷

Under the cut ^_^ no content warnings, just fluff, gender neutral reader

When Levi got clingy (which is often) it rarely manifested through physical touch. He’s hardly willing to do any more than tug on your sleeve to get your attention, and even this is a very small action that you could easily miss. More than anything, he liked to watch and guard you. Even if you kept telling him it wasn’t necessary, you always found him awake at the small hours of the morning over your bed.

“…I… I was awake anyway, so…”

He muttered something like that and then turn away. What would he do if not watch over you? Oil his gun? Count the windows in the building, count the entrance and exit points, think about his life up until this point? Since the war, even his mind became something of a problem. Always rearing its head at inopportune moments.

When he looked at you and the way your hair is fussed up first thing in the morning, he could almost imagine… domesticity. Something like this; he wakes up, and your hands are entangled from the night before, and you yawn and rub your eyes. You would eat breakfast together and talk.

“…How long have you been up?” You pulled the blankets off. “Did you sleep at all?”

Levi nodded. “I did…”

“You’re getting tremors in your hands again.”

He looked at his hands, cracked and dirty and covered in dry blood, bitten and shaky. A telltale sign. Within a few hours, maybe less, the nausea would come, and then the cravings, the sweat and the migraine. He shrugged.

You rolled out of bed. The bed squealed as you got off. To his surprise, you came to him.

“Don’t bite it,” You said, looking at his hands.

He blinked.

“You bit so hard you’re bleeding,” You reiterated, touching his fingernails.

He cocked his head, much like a dog. “S…Sometimes I wonder if you’re a… real… person.”

…Or a figment of his imagination. The first time he saw you, he ran away. You must have been some ghost of his past, one of the many dead faces brought animate by the withdrawals. And you kept pursuing. He thought for sure you wanted to kill him for what he did. Instead of that, you gave him heroin. And then you gave him food, and took him in, for absolutely no cost.

He decided that you must not know, and you should never know.

“Don’t be silly.”

You put a bandaid over his finger.

“…No…really… you shouldn’t be here…” Not in Prehevil. It’s a rotten place, for bad people. “And… um… I don’t need a bandage… you should save that.”

“You say weird things sometimes. It makes me want to squeeze you.”

He couldn’t respond to that. “Huh.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“Stay here...” He croaked.

He had to admit that you were being sensible. The lack of sleep had been getting to him. He was saying things he shouldn’t say. The sun hadn’t fully risen, so… he could afford himself to rest for maybe another 20 minutes. Being generous.

It felt pathetic to beg.

“I’ll keep watch.” You promised.

Swallowing his shame, he slipped under the covers. It was still warm from your body heat. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt the warmth of a human, even if it was just the lingering traces from your pillow. He almost felt excited like a little kid. Its like an indirect hug, he thought.

You sat at the foot of the bed. You had no rifle to polish or any way to keep yourself occupied, except to listen to the soft breathing of Levi next to you. The way he curled up was soft, never like how a soldier should sleep. He left his rifle.

“Sleep well,” you said softly.

“….yeah….”

[strkyoo]

ok but how about reader who wants to court lynette but has to get approval from lyney first (protective big bro is always the best)

— enchanted approval

PAIRING ; lynette x gn!reader (ft. lyney)

IN WHICH ; you want to take your relationship with lynette to the next level, but will her twin brother approve?

NOTE ; yea i think lyney would be a little protective for lynette bc of their past,, ngl i feel bad for both of em :(

// FLUFF? — established relationship, more focused to lyney and reader, protective lyney — wc ; 1.2k

you are currently at the debord hotel, waiting for lynette and her twin brother—lyney. this was the day… where you will try to convince lyney to let you take your relationship seriously with lynette.

you gulped nervously, sitting on the fancy chair, folding your hands together and tapping your feet in unison, staring at your empty plate because you literally have nothing to do now besides waiting for the twins.

few minutes passed, and you could hear footsteps leading to your seat. you turned back to see who it was, and it turns out it was lynette and lyney.

they dressed in a fancy outfit, making you blushed furiously especially when you saw how beautiful lynette is in that dress. gosh, can’t wait to see her in a wedding dress, or maybe in a suit— wait, s/o! don’t think that way! not yet, just… not yet…

“ehem.” lyney’s voice called, with the speed of lightning you snap out of your imagination. “oh— uh… bonjour….”

“bonjour.” lynette added, making you smile in relief. you silently begs her to sit beside you by tapping the chair beside you while looking at her with a pleading gaze, which caught her off guard when she saw how panicked you were right now.

with a soft sigh, she took a seat beside you, her hand clasping yours as your fingers intertwined together. her grip was gentle, as if telling you it’ll be just fine. the way she holds your hand is enough to make you feel less anxious and nervous. you appreciate her small effort to calm you down, even if it’s only a simple gesture— they always work, no matter what.

lyney, who secretly watched as she tried to soothe you, smiled softly, yet he tried to hide it in order to look professional. “so,” he began to speak, “i assume you’re s/o? lynette’s lover?”

“y-yes,” you nodded a little as you shifted your gaze to lyney, your hand still holding lynette’s hand for some support. “we’ve been dating for years… and i have deep feelings for her so i wanted to speak with you before moving forward.”

a mixture of nervousness and a tiny bit of determination coursing through you when you say that. you swear to the archons you’ve never said anything related like this to anyone before. this is so awkward.

lyney also looked a little different than usual. he looked more stern, more serious… almost like a different person without his usual cheerful aura and teasing personality.

you wanted to sigh in relief when you saw how lyney’s expression softened a bit at your statement, your shoulder dropping slightly in order to be more relaxed and comfortable despite the awkward situation.

“hey, relax, will ya? i don’t bite.” the awkward and tense atmosphere suddenly being cracked by lyney’s playful grin.

“but still. i don’t need to tell ya’ how important lynette is to me,” his tone suddenly became serious, “she’s my sister, and i’ll do anything to protect her at any cost.”

lyney’s intense gaze locked onto your eyes, making you feel even more tensed than before. but you managed to calm down as you took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts together as you try to think of some fitting and convincing words.

“yes… i’m completely aware of that, and i respect that. i would never do anything foolish to hurt her.” you muttered out, trying to offer a friendly smile to him.

lyney’s gaze softened again as he leaned back to his fancy chair, crossing his legs and arms together. “ooh, is that so? tell me, then. what do you see in her? what makes you think you’re the right person for her?”

these questions. these questions you’re super afraid of but the ones you’ve been waiting for too.

lynette looked at him with a frown, thinking that the question might be a bit far. as she was about to excuse her brother, you took a deep breath one more time— your heart pounding hard inside your chest as you spoke from the bottom of your heart:

“lynette is more than just an… incredible magician’s assistant— she’s kind, she’s passionate… and… and she has a heart that shines brighter than any magic! i want to stand by her side, to support her no matter what, and cherish every moment with her.”

“and if you allow me, lyney, i would start by getting to know her better, spending more time together outside of her performances, and showing her how much she means to me. i want to build a strong foundation of trust and understanding.”

it took some time for lyney to understand what you mean— he nodded, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table, while lynette sighed in relief and blushing madly at your remarks about her.

after a few more moments of intense scrutiny, his stern façade cracked, and he chuckled. “very well. i appreciate your honesty and determination.”

you couldn’t help but smiled at his response, “i promise, i’ll do my best to make you proud.”

he sighed, “you better do your best,” a playful glint is clear in his eye. “well then, if my sister’s heart is in it, who am i to stand in the way?”

relief and gratitude washed over you as lyney’s stance softened. you tried to wipe away the cold sweats on your forehead with your handkerchief, mumbling a soft ‘thank you’ to him.

after a few moments, lyney excused himself to buy the three of you some food and drinks after the tense communication, his playful side is now back to normal. as he left his seat, you let out a huge sigh of relief and leaned back to your chair.

“oh thank the archons… i feel like i would’ve passed away.” you breathed out, still trying to control your ragged breath.

lynette chuckled as she squeezed your hand again, this time she does it gently, pressing a subtle kiss on your cheeks. “don’t worry, my brother really likes you. he just wanted to hear your perspective.”

you smiled at the kiss, nodding your head slowly. “i’m glad to hear that. like, super duper glad.”

“mhm. he’s always been protective, but i trust his judgment,” she added, her fingers still intertwined with yours.

as you held her hand, the stage lights casting a soft glow on both of you, you knew that this was the beginning of a beautiful journey. well, hopefully.

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated ! ♡

— © strkyoo.

[b33zlebubz]

RIGOR MORTIS | CHAPTER EIGHT

SIMON RILEY X AFAB READER | 18+ MDNI | MASTERLIST | AO3 PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: reader uses she/her pronouns, fluff angst & eventual smut, blood violence & death, suicidal ideology, slow burn, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, toxic workplace environment, flashbacks “Abandoned in a battlefield with the one person you thought you would never see again; you're forced to come to terms with the ghosts of your past." CHAPTER CW: IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULT ((not from simon))

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14TH 2016 NORWAY, 1400 HOURS

"You're movin' too much, still."

"You are quite literally breathing down my neck.  Kinda hard not to."

"Yeah, well, get used to it, love.  'Cause at this point you're always gonna have someone looming over you."

You huff, unamused, and it clouds out in front of your face as you squint through the scope of an unloaded rifle.  Gloved hands grip the machine as you focus the scope on a point far-off at the other end of the course. 

Four hours you've been out here, now, running a sniping simulation.  The rest of your squad was split up in pairs across the vast landscape.  You were left as the odd one out and, seeing as Walker had originally planned to just stick you carelessly in with another group, Simon volunteered to partner with you instead.  Keep things equal.  Which basically—as your superior—meant he had an excuse to sit back and smoke while you did all the work.

The exercise was simple; climb the mountain, find your post, sit and keep watch for flags until the next team tags you out.  A sniping exercise as well as a strength and conditioning one.  

You both made quick work of the mountain, ice picks cracking against the ice.  Simon never really considered himself the competitive type, partially because he never needed to be and partially because there was no point—he's worked hard to ensure he's always the biggest guy in the room.  Today, though, something in your growing annoyance as he yelled down keep up, sergeant or watch your footing every time you lagged behind stirred something in you, which in turn stirred something in him.  It quickly became something of a race.

When his pick slipped and you finally surpassed him as he skidded down a few meters, he heard your laugh for the first time against the wind.  For some reason, it made him smile, too.

"I hate sniper duty," you grumble.  "Don't know how you do it—sit in the snow for hours."

"Same way I put up with your whiny ass."

"And what's that?"

"Patience."

You roll your eyes, but your lip quirks up into a smile nonetheless.  A sight he's grown more accustomed to over the course of the past couple days of training and conversation.  He's helped you out in little ways, stopping by the shooting range to offer some constructive criticism as you practiced, offering dietary and training advice to get your strength up, sticking his neck out for you when he could around Walker…among other things.  As it would turn out, you were good company.  Whiny, maybe—but good company, nonetheless. 

You were improving, too.  Temperament and strength-wise.  How much of it is due to his company rather than his guidance, though, he isn't sure.

"You're not funny," you retort.

"You complained the whole way up the mountain, love."

You huff and shoot him a look.  "Did I get it done?"

"Affirmative."

"And did I beat you while doing it?"

He shrugs.  "More or less."

"Then you should watch your mouth, Lieutenant."

His eyebrows raise, amused.  "Is that a threat I hear?"

"It's a promise to beat you again sliding back down the mountain, sir."

He imagines you throwing yourself down the snow in order to beat your own speed record, and he chuckles a little at the thought.  "I'd like to see you try, Angel."

You smile, gaze focused through the scope.  You've spotted three flags already, and you spot two more as another hour passes.  The team that's supposed to take your place is getting closer, Ghost thinks it'll be twenty minutes before they rendezvous, and you both make your way back for the day.  

"Ghost."

"Angel," he exhales another cloud of smoke and vapor when you speak, breaking the comfortable silence that's washed over you both.

You maneuver awkwardly to position your hand behind you, opening and closing your fist a few times.

"Hand me one of those," you say, your breathing puffing out into the freezing air.  "And my lighter."

He shakes his head with an amused smirk.   "You're supposed to be focusing."

"Can't focus if my hands are shaking."

"And what if this is a real scenario?  You're not gonna have cigarettes in a life-or-death situation, sergeant."

"Yeah, well, you do," you flex your hand again.  "So gimme."

He figures you're the only Sergeant on base he'd let order him around, but he doesn't let that thought take root in his mind. Instead, he shifts closer so that he's lying on his stomach next to you in the snow.  

"Keep still," he tells you, plucking a cigarette from his pack.  "You miss a flag Walker won't let me hear the end of it." 

You seem slightly surprised, but you don't say anything as he slots himself next to you.  He offers you the cigarette as you keep your gaze in the scope, and you use your free hand to slot it between your lips before he lights it.  You inhale slowly, and he watches your lips as you do so; watches the tips of your fingers through the clipped tips of the gloves he gave you and watches you exhale.  When he looks up, you're already looking at him.  He's close enough to see where snow clings to your lashes.

A beat passes where you both just stare at each other.  Simon finds he can't read your expression.  Then, you shake your head and clear your throat, which in turn snaps him out of his daze, before you take another drag and lock your focus in once more.

"Another flag," you say, your brow furrowed.  "At your twelve o' clock.  About four kilometers out."

Simon shifts, putting some space between you both as he clears his throat because fuck.  What the hell was that? 

"Copy that."

You're quiet for the rest of the exercise, only speaking whenever you spot another flag.  For some reason, Simon still finds himself fixed on the cigarette in your hand as you work.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14TH 2016 NORWAY, 1800 HOURS

Whenever both return to the base, there's a lot of whispering.  He doesn't notice, at first, too busy sorting equipment and putting it away.  You don't notice the lingering stares or the hushed voices either; or you're just pointedly ignoring them.  Sorting through your own gear nearby, you're quiet, and you're done and ready before he's even folded his snowsuit.  Nevertheless, Simon doesn't pay much mind to the name being whispered around until he can put the face to it.

Roger's Back.

Now, if there is one thing Simon isn't—it's humble.  After years of hard work he's managed to pack on an impressive amount of muscle, taking him from a lanky, malnourished teen to the legend he was now.  Not since Roba has he ever had an issue taking down anyone with the same experience, or sometimes more, than him.  He's made sure of that and intends to keep things that way.  

That is, until Simon happens to lift his head and peer down the hall towards someone he, for once, doesn't have to look down to meet the gaze of.

He's massive, is Simon's first thought.  The same height as him, he wagers the bloke might be the only lower-ranked soldier here who actually matches his strength enough to maybe have the upper hand in a fight.  

Simon's second thought is that bloody hell.

There's a long scratch across the man's cheek and the remains of a bruise around that of an eyepatch.  There's a still-healing gash on the side of his head, scar tissue fresh and thick on the temple of a shaved head, flesh stretched inward from staples freshly removed.

Ah.  Roger.  The sergeant who's skull you cracked against the edge of a bar.

The man approaches you from behind and Simon stops in his tracks just down the hall, eyes flitting over to watch the scene unfold in the corner of his eye.  

Keeping his face hidden had its cons, sure.  Maybe he did nearly suffocate himself every time he sweat his ass off in the desert.  Maybe underwater tasks were difficult and maybe he had to jump through all kinds of hoops to avoid getting his picture taken.  In hiding his own emotions, however, he's become quite good at reading the body language of others.

And you're uncomfortable.  Tense.  Ready to bite at a moment's notice.

You stand rigid still as you sense his presence, your back to the man as he approaches lazily to stand behind you.  Some words are exchanged.  You, biting retorts that just barely count as professional and him…standing too close for comfort.  

You hold your ground.  You don't punch first—just like Simon told you.  He watches the man's lips move, reads the threat that crosses his lips.  Still, you hold your ground as Simon's fists clench and he realizes what's happening—why you punched first.  Why you're struggling and why you put your training on halt for leave.

Next time, the man says.  Next time, you're not getting away so easily, bird.

Simon watches you think about it.  He watches your hands ball into fists, watches your eyes narrow and your nose scrunch with disgust.  But you don't move, no—you don't shrink away in fear and you don't immediately go for the kill.  You stand your ground just as Simon told you to.

You do so until the man looks away first, sauntering off.  Simon watches you let out one breath, then another, before you grab your pack in a shaking hand and sling it over your shoulder.  His eyes linger on you as you quickly leave the room, barely noticing how Roger approaches him to introduce himself.

It's not until the door shuts behind you that Simon grabs the young Sergeant by the front of his shirt and slams him against the wall.  Roger lets out a startled yelp.

"You lay another finger on her," he snarls.  "And I'll fuckin' cut it off, Sergeant, you copy?"

Roger's eyes are wide.  The breath knocked from his lungs, he's panting, and his mouth opens and shuts again in shock.

"I said do you copy?"

"Yes—yes, sir.  Copy and check."

Satisfied that his warning is taken seriously, Simon turns him loose with a hissed, "piss off."

Roger stumbles.  Disoriented, he continues down the hallway, and Simon is still seething as his boots carry him down a wrong turn to Walker's office.

He doesn't walk out until your safety is guaranteed.

[cocojimin]

Flaws&All

↣ pairing: idol!yoongi x gn!reader ↣ genre: established relationship, slight angst, fluff ↣ warnings: alluding to depressive states ↣ word count: ~600 ↣ song inspo: Beyoncé - Flaws and All a/n: hello all! this one-shot is apart of my new series, 'Song Shuffle One-Shots' or SOS where I shuffle my library and write based on the song. hope you all enjoy the first installment.

You catch me when I fall.

Accept me, flaws and all.

And that’s why I love you.

Loving Yoongi has never been an easy road, but it is a road you’d happily trek down without question. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Coming into a quiet home was not often a marker for something being amiss. Usually when you got off work or back from an outing, the house would mainly be darkened, save for soft light spilling from underneath a certain door.

Yoongi’s Studio.

Tonight, however, there was no signs of him within the walls of his personal domain. The door was slightly cracked, computer off, no sounds of keyboards or groans of frustration.

Moving slowly through the dark home, you brought light with every wall you touched. Light began to flood the various rooms in search of your lover.

Living Room.

Kitchen.

Studio.

Bedroom.

Brightness revealed the bed, completely made, save for a heap of gray occupying the same side Yoongi usually sleeps on. This particular scene wouldn’t have been a cause for concern if you didn’t know Yoongi inside and out. Around this time, he would either be in his studio finishing up his latest obsession or in the living room, complaining about the show he purposefully turned on.

Head tucked under the gray throw blanket.

Feet incased in the fabric.

Yoongi was in the fetal position, so cocooned from the outside world that he didn’t register you being home, or the lights being turned on. Pulling back the blanket, you finally locked eyes with your lover. Red rimmed and tired, he passed you a soft smile, muscles slightly relaxing as he didn’t have to hold his protection taunt anymore.

“I didn’t hear you come in. I’m sorry about that”, Yoongi spoke through a puff of air.

Carding through his hair, you caught his wandering gaze.

Yoongi has bouts where he falls into himself. 

Drowning in inconsistencies. 

Sometimes silence is key, or maybe comforting words. Other days its soft touches and whispers of incoherent thoughts. Words jumbled together that spell out ‘I Love You’ in every language imaginable.

Tonight, you could tell he need to be grounded through touch.

“Why didn’t you call me, honey boy?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you, you know how I get”, he says as he leans into your touch. “I thought doing this might help”, he chuckles humorlessly, “I just look silly though, don’t I?”.

Shaking your head, you fully unwrap him in more ways than one. Taking in his flaws and insecurities without passing judgement, knowing they all combine to make the amazing human you know and adore.

“You know you can call me for anything”, Yoongi begins to interject, but you quickly stop his incoming ramblings, “I don’t care if you just get a papercut or you just needed me to keep you company, I’ll answer.” Yoongi’s small smile let you know he understood exactly what message you were trying to get across in a less blunt way.

“Come on, honey boy”, rising to your feet, you outstretched your hand. “Let’s go wash the day away, I’ll let you use my new scrub that you like so much.”

Yoongi giggled.

His face lights up as he takes your hand, thanking whatever powers may be for sending him an angel. No matter how many times he sits and ponders on how you continue to love him despite him lacking on days, he can’t figure out what you see. Your belief and love for him never wavers as you continuously reassure him and shows him that he is worth loving.

And that, is why he loves you.

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

Hope after the Darkness

Parining: Mob!Winterfrost X Reader.

Summary: After the events of Brock's attack, you think your hope of a family is unreachable until you are proven wrong.

Word Count: 1.30k

Warnings: none just fluff!

Part 1 <

You paced around the bathroom, mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. The news you were about to share was both thrilling and terrifying, and the fear of how it would change everything made your heart pound.

You had taken the test in secret, and the positive result had filled you with a strange mixture of delight and dread. You couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to hold a tiny, perfect baby in your arms, but the thought of telling Loki and Bucky loomed over you like a dark cloud. They hadn’t even talked about starting a family again after the events that happened with Rumlow. The weight of your unspoken fears grew heavier over the next few hours.

The bathroom door creaked open and your breath caught in your throat. You turned to see them walk out, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. In Bucky's hand, he held a small white test, and your heart sank waiting for them to speak. 

“Hey, doll," bucky said, his voice calm but with a hint of tension. “I found this in the bathroom.” you swallowed hard, hands trembling. You could barely meet his gaze as he held up the pregnancy test, the positive line of blue glaringly obvious. The silence between them felt like it stretched on forever.

Bucky's eyes softened and he took a step closer to you. “Is this…?” he began, trailing off as he searched for the right words. “Are we…? Are you pregnant again?” Your eyes filled with tears  and you nodded, voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes. I didn’t know how to tell you guys. I was so scared.”

Both their expression shifted from confusion to tenderness. Bucky gently set the test down and took your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “Doll, I’m scared too,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “But we’re in this together. I want to be here for you, for us. We’ll figure it out all over again”

The relief that washed over you was almost overwhelming. The weight of your fear lifted as you saw the genuine care in Bucky's eyes. You glanced over at Loki, as he sat quietly on the edge of the bed. The room was filled with noticeable tension, and while bucky had been excited by the news, Loki's silence was almost deafening.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady, and said softly, “Loki, are you okay?” Loki looked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. It took him a moment to find his voice and when he did, it was filled with an earnest warmth. “My love, I’m more than okay,” he finally said, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m incredibly happy.”

Before you could react, Loki stood up, his movements were deliberate as if he was trying to savor each moment. When he reached you, he gently cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours with a profound tenderness.

The weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes made your heart swell. Without another word, Loki leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with relief, joy, and an undeniable promise of support. 

As you slowly pulled apart, Loki’s forehead rested against yours. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Hearing that you’re pregnant… it’s the best news I could have ever hoped for. I’m thrilled. I want to be with you and James every step of the way.” Tears of happiness brimmed in all three of your eyes. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice choked with emotion. “I needed to hear that.”

Loki’s smile was radiant as he pulled you into a close embrace. “We’re going to be amazing parents,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “And we’re going to do this together,” Bucky added as he too wrapped his arms around you both. As you nestled into their arms, the future seemed a little less daunting. With both of your men by your side, the journey ahead felt not only manageable but filled with hope and love. 

Just as they were about to exchange another loving glance, the door swung open and Sam bounded into the room, his face brimming with his usual enthusiasm. “Hey guys!” Sam started, but he was quickly cut off by your excited exclamation.

“Sam! We have something to tell you!” your eyes sparkled with excitement. You could barely contain the enthusiasm, your voice trembling with joy. Sam paused, his curiosity piqued. “What’s up?” he asked, his gaze shifting between all three of you.

You took a deep breath, your smile widening. “ You’re going to be an uncle!” The room seemed to pause for a moment as Sam processed the news. Then his eyes went wide with disbelief and a grin broke out across his face. He let out a joyous whoop, and without another word, he rushed forward and enveloped you in a tight hug.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing!” Sam exclaimed, his voice a mixture of awe and exhilaration. “I’m going to be an uncle! This is the best news ever!” His excitement was so infectious that it seemed to amplify the already vibrant atmosphere in the room. Loki and Bucky laughed, their happiness reignited by Sam’s overwhelming enthusiasm. The moment of serenity they had shared was now transformed into a celebration, as Sam’s joy added a new layer to their shared elation. 

“You know Steve’s gonna be pretty competitive about this, right?” Sam said, grinning. Bucky chuckled. “Oh, definitely. Steve's going to want to outdo everyone.” You shook your head with a smile. “Sounds like you two are in for a serious competition.” Sam winked. “Oh, it’s on. I’m just hoping the kid doesn’t end up with two uncles trying to outdo each other with bedtime stories and birthday presents!”

Loki then grinned. “Well, the baby’s definitely going to have the coolest uncles around. Thor is also coming back to visit.” they all laughed, it was clear that the competition between Sam, Steve, and Thor would only add to the joy and fun of their growing family.

TAGS 🏷️

@hannibals-favourite-meal @mochie85 @loopsisloops @ladyofthestayingpower @joyful-enchantress @sarahscribbles @michelleleewise @missvelvetsstuff @caothicshit @huntressandlioness1 @Slave4loki @foxherder @MisstressMischief @Tomandcakes @lyds247 @silverfire475 @springdandelixn @nana1000night @sarahrogersevans @vbecker10

[frickingnerd]

lying is the greatest kind of love

pairing: trucy wright x gn!reader

summary: trucy interrogates you, when she suspects that you're her secret admirer! and you crack as soon as she start pulling out the evidence…

tags: silly & wholesome fluff, (best) friends to lovers, secret admirer!reader, trucy roleplaying as a lawyer/police officer, confession (reader to trucy + reciprocated)

“why am i here…?”

you anxiously sat on the couch in the wright anything agency. trucy stood in front of you, a file with tons of papers inside of them, that she rapidly flipped through. and it was just you and her in the entire agency, with everyone else out for the day. it was only natural to become nervous in a situation like this!

“this is an interrogation. you have the right to remain silent. anything you say can and will be used against you. you have no right to an attorney…”

“wait, that's not how it goes–!” you protested, as trucy went on reading you your miranda rights. or rather, her version of them.

“if you cannot afford an attorney… oh, skip that part.” she mumbled, before getting to the last point. “do you understand these rights i have just read to you? with these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

“no–!” you whined, which in turn made trucy sigh and complain as well.

“hey, play along here! this doesn't work if you don't say the right things…” she sighed and sat down across from you.

“trucy, what are we even doing? what are all those papers?” you asked, pointing at the file in her hands. trucy hesitated, before she sighed and opened the file once more.

“i am investigating you, under suspicion of being my secret admirer!” trucy said, before handing you the file. in it were tons of love letters that should seem rather familiar to you.

“o-oh.” you quickly closed the file as soon as you recognized the first letter. taking a look at the cheesy things you wrote in there now made you cringe, knowing that trucy had figured out it was from you.

“do you have anything to say to that?” as soon as you closed the file, trucy took it back and opened it once more, skimming through the pages. “how about i jog your memory?”

“no, i really don't think that's necess–”

but trucy had already started.

“life feels empty when i'm not with you.”

“you take my breath away.”

“i'm so into you.”

“i can't imagine my life without you.”

she could've probably kept on forever, but before trucy could remind you of anymore of the cringey things you wrote in those letters, you broke.

“stop–! i admit it, i wrote them! just… please, stop reading…” you whined, your will to fight back gone.

trucy chuckled and closed the file, placing it on the table in front of her. while you seemed embarrassed about it all, trucy seemed to enjoy doing the questioning for once. she really had spent too much time around lawyers…

“why didn't you just tell me that you liked me?” trucy asked softly, finally being her old self again and dropping her lawyer act.

“i… i didn't want to ruin our friendship. but now i'm starting to think getting rejected by you outright would've been less embarrassing than this…”

“who says i'm rejecting you?”

your head had hung low to avoid eye contact, but as soon as trucy said that, your head shot up.

“i figured after those embarrassing things i wrote, you wouldn't want me around anymore…” you mumbled, awkwardly rubbing your neck.

“i think what you wrote was really sweet!” trucy smiled. “just next time, feel free to say those things to my face, instead of putting them in letters. i'd like to hear you say them, you know?”

[lvlystars]

not your usual saturday night — x.mh

pairing. xu minghao x fem!reader

genre. fluff(?)

summary. when saturday rolls around, minghao expects to be sitting in his apartment, all wrapped up in his blankets with a steaming cup of tea beside him. he certainly did not expect to find himself at a damn frat party, holding a can of beer while a girl's breasts are being pushed up in front of him (on accident, of course). never in a million years did he imagine that. but here we are.

warnings. frat party activities mentioned. alcohol consumption.

wc. 1.6k (FUCK IT UP LESGOO)

minghao huffs out in boredom as he rolls his eyes, unable to tolerate the amount of sweaty bodies around him, yelling and whooping at two people who were grinding up against one another in the living room of the house. to the left of him, he spotted a guy—not any older than minghao is—handing a bag of some kind of white powder (probably drugs) to a younger looking kid, a sophomore at most. along the stairs, he sees two guys making out, their intoxicated smiles and giggles muffled by the blaring music that would probably get the cops here in the next few hours.

so to put it short: not his usual saturday night.

minghao makes a beeline to the kitchen, getting himself a drink from the fridge. he eyes a couple of beers and hard seltzers, and a large bottle of vodka at the bottom. sighing out, he opts for the beer, reaching out for the blue can before he feels a hand on his shoulder. turning his head around, he’s met with the captain of the varsity football team, otherwise known as kim mingyu. but people really prefer to just call him “the tall guy”—not to his face, of course, but who can blame them? the man is literally 6’2.

“minghao? didn’t really take you for a college-frat-parties kinda guy.” mingyu teases, flashing his canine smile at the chinese boy, making the latter just smile and laugh a little. “yeah, i’m really not. seokmin dragged me here.” minghao scratches the back of his head, closing the fridge behind him as he faces mingyu.

“of course he did.” mingyu laughs, patting his back. “alright, i’m gonna join the others in the living room. wanna come?” minghao shakes his head. “no, it’s fine. i’ll just be hanging around here for a bit. it feels really stuffy in there.” mingyu visibly deflates at minghao’s rejection, but he just shrugs, smiling again. “it’s alright. i get what you mean. well, if you wanna join us, we’ll just be chilling there all night.” mingyu says before walking off towards the living room.

“fuck you, seokmin.” minghao curses, cracking open his can of beer before taking a swig of it.

“but it’s my girlfriend’s best friend’s birthday!” seokmin—minghao’s best friend since high school—yells. minghao rolls his eyes at the korean boy’s attempt at getting him to come to just another random party.

“and why do i have to come?” minghao asks, raising his eyebrow.

“i heard the birthday girl is single…” minghao groans as seokmin wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“look, seokmin. i appreciate you being the living version of tinder for me, but i’m not interested in dating, more or less getting involved with anyone at the moment.”

“OH COME ON! please?! give it just ONE chance! if it doesn’t work out, i promise i won’t help your sad, single butt anymore!”

bless his heart for not saying ‘ass’.

and that’s how he ended up in a frat house party with almost half the arts department population in it.

he walks off into the house, trying to find any empty rooms, but in almost every room he looks into, there are people getting high, getting dicked down, or people just hanging out with their friends. finally, he finds a room that’s just occupied by a girl sitting at a desk, the room illuminated by her study lamp.

“hello?” minghao asks as he closes the door, looking around. “hi?” she says back, looking up from her laptop screen. the girl didn’t seem out of place at all. in fact, she was wearing a sparkly green dress that fell off her shoulders, and had a deep neckline. the orange light of the lamp beside her gave the girl a warm glow as she blinked at minghao, who just stood there, before he realises that he’s just been blatantly eyeing down some random girl who was probably trying to get work done.

“oh! uh, i’m sorry, it was just a bit too much out there, so…y’know.” minghao smiles, gesturing towards the room.

“yeah i get it.” the girl says, smiling back at him.

minghao couldn’t help but notice how sober the girl sounded, and maybe also how her voice sounded pretty husky and attractive when it’s resounding off such an empty study room, only filled with a desk, small couch, and empty shelves where textbooks and novels should be.

“you wanna maybe sit down? there should be a couch over there. or i can move to the couch and you can-“

“no! it’s…it’s fine. i’m fine with the couch. thanks.” minghao turns down her offer and goes to sit on the couch.

the two college kids just continue to sit in silence, minghao pulling out his phone and just mindlessly scrolling through his instagram page as the girl continues to work on whatever she was typing away at on her laptop, until she decides to break the silence.

“i’m sorry, it’s probably so awkward. what’s your name?”

“minghao. you?”

“y/n.”

“what major?” minghao asks, putting away his phone as he showed more interest in the conversation than the dog freaking out over a balloon on his phone.

“psych.”

“okay now i’m scared of you.” minghao chuckles, making y/n laugh out loud, shutting her laptop before she leans back.

“i get that a LOT. i just don’t understand why you hate us?!” y/n whines, crossing her arms as her breasts push up, the action making minghao flustered as he looks away.

“i-it’s just that…you guys can like…read our minds! that’s creepy, dude! like if i’m doing a certain action, y’all know what’s going on in our minds and like you know what to do!” minghao throws his arms in the air, accidentally slamming one of them on the shelf behind him. he hisses in pain as he brings down his arm, noticing that he had hit his hand on the sharp edge of the shelf.

“oh shit are you okay?” y/n immediately gets up, rushing over to minghao to hold his arm, turning on the light to get a better look at any damage.

as y/n hovered over him, minghao blushes as he tries to distract himself from the view in front of him: y/n’s chest just being pushed up in front of his face. although hers weren’t as large as some others minghao had seen, he couldn’t lie that they still were just as distracting.

“i-i think i’m okay, y/n.” minghao lowly mutters, making the girl notice their position. she immediately pulls away, pulling up her bodycon dress over her chest as she looks down, mumbling an apology.

instead of saying anything, minghao pats the empty spot beside him on the couch, the two once again sitting in silence before speaking out his thoughts.

“you know what, this party is kinda boring. you wanna like, go over to my place, or we can hang out at yours?” minghao speaks up, looking at y/n, to which she looks stunned.

“i’m sorry, what?”

“i…i just asked…if you wanna…go to my…place…’cause this party is…boring.” minghao just quietly trails off as the girl stares back at him, a dejected yet amused look in her eyes.

“this is…this is my birthday party.” y/n says, making minghao’s eyes go wide.

“oh. OH. OH I AM SO SORRY-“

“it’s fine, my best friend planned the entire thing. i guess she used my birthday as an excuse to party, to be honest. she’s probably making out with her suckass boyfriend. what’s his name again? seok…what? seokjin?”

“it’s seokmin.”

“that’s the one!”

“...he’s my friend.”

“oh…oh shit i’m so sorry, i didn’t–” minghao shakes his head as he laughs softly, his eyes forming into crescents as the ends crinkle. “no, no you’re good. he really does suck up to her like no tomorrow. it’s so sickening sometimes.” minghao brushes it off, making the girl soften at his nature.

“i guess we’re both even on accidentally insulting the wrong party.” minghao starts giggling, his laugh sounding more like a pretty twinkle in her ears, and y/n finds herself being entranced by the way minghao’s eyes form crescents when he smiles widely, and the way his teeth look so perfect and cute as he beams. the way–

y/n snaps out of her little trance when minghao snaps his fingers in front of her, making her blink twice before apologising, flustered at how she was just caught staring at probably one of the prettiest guys she’s ever seen since she stepped foot into campus.

“i was just saying that those two—seokmin and your friend—are just like each other.” minghao gestures towards the door behind y/n, making her chuckle as she nods in agreement.

“they really are, it’s crazy.” she agrees, laughing at herself as she distracts herself by playing with her fingers, trying to ignore the heat creeping into her cheeks. “funny enough, seokmin was trying to set me up with you, playing all cupid or whatever.” minghao chuckles, making the girl’s eyes widen.

“no way! hyejin was going to set me up with you too! saying that you would be just my type and shit!” y/n gasps, throwing her arm onto minghao’s shoulder, making the poor guy freeze and hyperfixate on the way her touch made him shiver (in a good way, of course). clearing his throat, minghao speaks up.

“i’m your type?” he wiggles his eyebrows, making the girl bashfully look away as she retreats her hand, smiling to herself. before she can say anything, minghao grabs a hold of her hand again, grasping it firmly. “if i’m your type, then do you want to go on a date with me? because you seem like my type too, y/n.” minghao smiles with reassurance, squeezing her hand for comfort.

the silence prolongs before y/n smiles again.

“yes, i would love that, minghao.”

tags 🏷️ —

@wqnwoos @etherealyoungk @amxlia-stars @seuonji @spicyseonghwas @jaehunnyy @kyeomyun @leo-seonghwa @star1117-archives

networks 🔗 —

@preciousillusions-net @cacaokpop-fics @caratsland @k-labels

SVT WORKS

send an ask or drop a comment if you want to be added to my general taglist!

ⓒ lvlystars

[brisquad-unit-4402]

would you still love me if i was a

[bavis gavis voice] happy post-white day you sick Fucks.

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, crack treated seriously, inspired by fulgur’s white day stream, maybe canon compliant?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It takes Fulgur some time to weigh the question after you repeat it again. Even so, it’s less of the sweet thoughtfulness you were hoping for and more just trying to wrap his head around it.

He’s so confused that not only does he look away from his computer screen, but he pivots his chair around entirely to face you. “…A worm.”

“Yeah.”

"Like a pest? Or a vermin."

"If you wanna call them that, sure."

“Why would you turn into a worm?”

“I dunno, maybe I’m secretly Gregor Samsa?”

“What does Kafka have to do with anything?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You spend a lot of time thinking about things that don’t matter.”

“Hey, it does too matter.”

“Kafkaism is fiction that reflects the surrealism of reality. We’re not fictional.”

“Cap.”

“What do you mean, cap, I’m a real— oh, never mind.” He pinches his nose again, and this time you must’ve gotten under his skin, because he even lifts his glasses up to rest on his head as he looks at you. “Why are you asking me about worms?”

“No context allowed! I’m suddenly a worm. Would you still love me, yes or no?”

“Why would I have to answer? You’re not turning into a worm.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Wh—“ Fulgur stares at you. “Yes, I do?! I live with you!”

You look off to the side and smirk. “Heh. You don’t even know about my double-life as a decomposer.”

“The only decomposing you do is when you lay in bed for three hours on your phone.”

“Fuu! Answer now!”

“No comment!”

“You are so unromantic!”

“You’re just now realizing this?!”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

This is ironic.

Delightfully so.

Not exactly as you imagined, however. Rather than a worm, right in front of you is…

“Please don’t make this any worse than it is, Reader.”

A small seahorse, prostrated on the ground and somehow capable of breathing despite being very much above air. The gray ponytail and stubble around his snout was jarring, but there’s no mistaking the lifeline of red around his eye.

You let out the fourth-loudest laugh of your life, effectively wrecking Fulgur’s request before you even accepted it.

You cackle for some time until your side hurts and you tear up. Seahorse Fulgur levitates up to eye-level (somehow??) as you wipe your watery eyes. “Are you still mad…?”

“Mad?" You ask. "Why would I be mad?”

He hesitates. “The worm thing?”

It takes you a moment to remember the conversation you had almost exactly a week ago. You haven’t forgotten it nor how amused you were during it, but who’s to say the feeling was mutual?

Your lips press together. Did you misread the situation? “No, I wasn’t mad at all. It’s a silly question with silly answers.”

“Oh.” Fulgur sounds almost as small as his seahorse body, just the right size to cup your hands around him. Your fingers serve as a headrest. "Well, now I feel silly, too."

"It's okay, I don't mind. It was funny watching you get confused even if I didn't get an answer." You pat him on the head with a finger. "I'd still love you even if you were a seahorse, though."

Fulgur shuts his eyes. "You're making fun of me."

"A little."

"Would you let up if I answered the worm thing?"

"Maaaaybe." You pat him on the head again. "It doesn't matter now, we just need to find Legatus."

"Well, I would," Fulgur admits.

"Pardon?"

"Even if you're a worm," the seahorse says. He lays flat along your palm, yet his tail stretches out, wrapping around the edge of your thumb. Can seahorses blush?

You'd like to put that question to the test. "Full sentences, please, Fuu."

"I'd love you even if you were a worm," Fulgur says, and even with a snout and two beady eyes, you can just hear the way he presses his lips together and averts his gaze, dedicated to whenever he says it and all the courage he has to muster to be honest.

If he knew how he had you wrapped around his finger when he gets this shy he'd never let you hear the end of it, and still never be able to abuse that privilege. He's true to himself, even if it's at the expense of his pride.

So the urge to tease passes. Instead, you lift your hand up to your lips, press a kiss onto your fingers, and poke him gently on the side of his face. "Let's get you fixed up, Fuu."

"Please." His tail tightens around your thumb. "I'm afraid if we wait any longer I might give birth."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Waiting for the Storm

Prologue

Series Masterlist Chapter 1

pairing: Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader 

summary: "If you spend your whole life waiting for the storm, you'll never enjoy the sunshine." -Morris West

When Michael's release day finally arrives, he isn't too optimistic about his future. The most he's hoping for is a relationship with his daughter and a new path forward. The world, however, has bigger plans for him after he meets a timid, yet lovely, children's book illustrator who has more in common with him than it seems.

warnings: swearing, emotional and physical abuse (very brief descriptions here but these will be recurring themes in this story), descriptions of prison, descriptions of family loss

a/n: Ahhhh! My first Mikey story because I FINALLY had inspiration. I am way too excited about this WIP so I really hope this lil tidbit gets y'all intrigued! The general vibes will be fluff and hurt/comfort because Mikey deserves to be comforted. I hope you all enjoy!

w/c: ~900

There was something comforting about the rain. Peaceful and cleansing. Water vapor rising unburdened by the impurities of the ground to the heavens and falling back again like a gift, washing away the sins below with every splattering drop. 

When she was a child, the other girls bemoaned their hometown’s climate and constant precipitation. “Rain brings noise, and floods, and mud, and worms!” They’d lament to her after every storm. She never knew how to tell them that none of those consequences bothered her. 

Floods were rare, and more a symptom of poor drainage systems than the rain itself. Mud was mostly avoidable, and easy to wash away. Worms were necessary for composting and agriculture, not to mention completely harmless. 

The noise, well, this she understood. When she was a toddler the loud smashes of thunder and cracks of lightning terrified her too—scaring her under the covers night after night, hands clamped over her ears. But then her life became less quiet, and the storms were less loud by comparison. 

See when your home is full of screaming, and crying,  and the echoing slap of skin hitting skin, thunder is a lot more appealing. It’s easy to focus on. If you try hard enough, you can let it drown out the sounds of your father putting another hole in the drywall, of your mother’s car pulling out of the driveway for the last time—the tires screeching as she leaves you behind.  

The spattering of rain against the windows became her anchor whenever the universe was kind enough to offer it to her. When her father rages around the house, destroying every trace of his estranged wife, she would lay in bed—eyes glued to the droplets splashing against the glass. 

On the especially bad nights, she pictured a safe haven: a set of cliffs, composed of worn shale threaded with lush green grass. She could feel the cracked sandstone through the fabric of her pajamas as she sat along the edge. Fat raindrops drenched her scalp, trailing down her face, over her heavy eyelids and exposed collar bone. The ground beneath her grew increasingly damp, each swirl of water wafting the scent of petrichor towards her nose. Somewhere in the distance, waves crested over rocks—the sound getting lost in the patter of the rain. 

As she aged, she continued to dream of this place. Throughout her tumultuous teenage years and every disagreement with her father. Each and every time she felt lonely after moving to another, sunnier, state for her bachelor’s degree. 

The image was especially helpful as her relationship with Xavier turned sour. Every insult, threat, and smack fading into the drum of raindrops on rock. She’d lay awake at night, bruises blooming on her limbs, imagining the rain. 

And it was the steady pounding of droplets on the roof that gave her the courage to pack her things and leave. Trekking across town, over multiple bus routes, until she stood her friendly coworker’s doorstep—soaked to the bone, and more unhurried than she’d been in years, all thanks to the rain. 

Michael had never minded the rain. A symptom of living in Dublin his whole life, he supposed. When every other day brought a shield of clouds over the sun, you adjusted or you fled to brighter pastures. 

He sure as hell didn’t mind it when he was in his cell, listening to the jeers and yelling of the other prisoners night after fucking night. The thrum of raindrops against cinderblock were a welcomed static noise. 

At first, he was grateful for the solitude of his protected status. It gave him time to grieve the loss of his wife, to repent for his hand in her death. His stint in prison meant he was temporarily relieved of the burden placed on his shoulders by the family and it gave him time to grow and reflect. 

But it also meant losing Anna, grieving and spiraling on his own for eight excruciating years, and being closer to his father than he’d ever wanted to be again. It meant that he’d lost everything that mattered, because he’d been too careless to protect it. 

He missed freedom. He missed his family, his daughter more than anything. He missed fresh air, and hot water, and home cooked meals. He wanted to feel the wind against his chest, the rain on his face, anything but the stale breath of hundreds of other prisoners and the bite of the cool cement against his back as he drifted off. 

His release day approached slowly, at first. But after the first few years, the days began to blend together. Seasons rolling by like a strip of film in a projector, bursts of green coming and going as the plants in the sparse outdoor yard sprouted and died. The tunnel was quickly ending, but he wasn’t yet sure if there was light at the end of it. 

Regardless of what lay waiting for him outside of those gates, he’d regain his autonomy, he’d try to see Anna, he’d try to move forward. 

This is what the rain sounded like, when it pounded against the foundation of the prison. It sounded like liberty, like family, like achievable peace. 

If he could feel the rain again, he could keep going. And he would.

[aliorsboxostuff]

tangerine x gn (or m if you need to gender) reader where the twins take a job & the mission is like to protect/escort reader. love ur work have a great day/night!!

A/N: Y’know I've been thinking of writing a fic like that and hey! You requested anon so here it is! I took the liberty to give Reader a codename (both easier for me to write and for y'all to imagine) And he will be codenamed ‘Wolf’ (Cheesy ik). Now Reader is a bit more cheerful and bright than Tangerine, overall a golden retriever, so we got a grumpy x sunshine on our hands! Enjoy dear anon! <3

Sharp Smile

TANGERINE X M!READER

Tags: Tangerine x male!reader, implied nsfw, described nsfw, Lemon egging on his twin, sexual innuendos, pool table (ever since TGM there's something so sexual abt it idk), dom!Reader, golden-retriever!Reader, meet-cute (maybe?), escort!fic, fluff, fluff and smut

Tangerine and Lemon do yet ANOTHER escort mission after the disaster in Japan, but this time, Tangerine meets a boy too interesting to let him off his leash. 

—

3rd POV

"Who's the bloke anyway? Need’n an escort and all,"

"Well from what the file says, mans an important relative to some mob boss in Belgium. The guys inviting his family over for some gathering' i think? And were tasked with keepin' em' safe,"

"Better not be like that fuckin' white deaths kid again," 

"Nah man, we're only pickin' up the guy from the station, over to a private airway, and off we go in a fancy jet flyin' over the Atlantic Ocean,"

Tangerine huffs, his eyes scanning the crowd as it filters out of the train station. He rubs at the scar on the left of his neck, which finally healed enough for him to not feel self-conscious and wear a turtleneck, especially not around mid-July in America. He and Lemon stand just out of reach from their car, both looking around for their package. 

"Oh! Speak of that devil," Lemon grins, suddenly he whistles loudly. "Oi! Over here!"

The man in question turns. Tangerine felt like an atomic bomb went off in his chest. 

His hair was neatly swept back, a gray suit in place with a dark coat, and a devastating smile as he waves and approaches the twins. As he makes his way closer, Tangerine notices the extra inches he had on him. Not enough to make his neck crane but enough to grow the number of butterflies in Tangerine's stomach. 

"Tangerine and Lemon, right?" He smiles, pointing between the two. 

"That's right mate, pleasure to meet ya'," Lemon shakes his hand. "I'm Lemon," Tangerine spots a sliver of skin with small scars littered on them, he wonders if he could count them all.

"Oh I'm not supposed to tell you guys my real name, right, privacy purposes and all that," He pauses as if recalling something. "My uncle told me my codename is 'Wolf' so just-"

"Yeah, that'll do mate," Lemon nods.

"And you must be…" Wolf extends his hand in front of Tangerine, whose eyes are still glued to the man's perfect structure. Lemon rolls his eyes, elbowing his twin and pretends to cough, finally regaining Tan's focus.

"Right yea- Tangerine," He succeeds with minimal voice cracks.

"Tangerine," Wolf smiles. "Please to meet you,"

"Yeah sure," Tangerine says all too fast. He quickly turns to grab Wolf's luggage and bumps Lemon. "Come on then, I don't wanna waste another fucken' hour in this place,"

Soon enough, the three are flying through the highway in their Range Rover, courtesy of the rich boss that wants nothing less for their relative. Lemon drives while Tangerine sits shotgun, Wolf scrolling through his phone in the back seat. 

Something about the man interests Tangerine; and no it's not just the good looks and the slightly windswept hair from the man's train ride and from when he pulled his head out of the car like a fucking dog until he had to nag at him about his safety and his face dropped and pouted—No it really isn't that. For someone to reach Tangerines radar, they had to pique his interest in a specific way. Usually, he'd go for a man that's a couple of years older than him in age, maybe a gentleman with experience just so he can relish the feeling of being a pillow princess, or a person that's so reserved, so mysterious, he finds the thrill of getting to know them better. That, or his enemies—because he likes taunting them okay?

But Wolf, this man, kid even; judging from the way he's thoroughly engaged in a discussion about Thomas the tank engine with Lemon, there's nothing to be picked apart from him. To put it simply; Wolf is just another work from another rich geezer that's too careful about their precious relatives and has too much time on his hands. 

Tangerine glances at the rearview mirror when Wolf exhausts himself from the animated conversation with Lemon. The man is now looking out the window, his eyes trained on the road. Until he suddenly turned and their eyes met. Wolf smiles. It's bright and warm, and it scares Tangerine a little how sincere it is. Tangerine breaks eye contact, quickly looking out of his own window, cheeks tinted red slightly.

The group stopped for gas, Lemon leaving the two to go use the toilet and buy them snacks. Wolf suddenly peaked from between the front seats. 

"Hey, Tan?" He jumps, suddenly hearing his voice so close to him.

"Fuck- Yeah?" Wolf chuckles.

"Have you ever been to Belgium?" The man asks, tilting his head, his blinding smile in place.

"Sure I've been, was on a mission with Lemon there once,"

"Really? Have you ever been to Bruges then?"

"Uhm, no don't think so," Wolf grins impossibly wider if that was even possible. Tangerine should've brought his sunglasses. 

"From what my uncle told me, it's the most romantic city in Belgium," his eyes glinted slightly. "I think I'd like to take someone there one day,"

"Well whoever that would be one lucky bird,"

"Oh I'm sure he is," Wolf sneaks a wink before he slinks back into his seat, leaving Tangerine into his own spiraling thoughts. A steady red slowly blooms on the merc's cheeks, he quickly looks out the window to see his twin walking back to the car. He sighs in relief.

When they finally arrive at the private runway, Lemon and Tangerine carry Wolf's luggage while the man carries his day bag into the jet. The twin notices the size of the plane, slightly roomier and bigger than a normal private jet. While the exterior is sleek black, the inside is a luxurious beige and white, complemented with accents of mahogany brown on the side of the seats.

"There's a bar at the back, and after that should be the bedroom and bathroom," 

"Bloody hell it's a whole house 'ere," 

Lemon's statement makes Wolf giggle as he sets his bag on one of the seats. "You boys get comfortable, it's a long 9-hour flight," 

The seats were divided into groups of four and two, with a table separating each group. Wolf dropped his bag on one of the fours and so Lemon and Tangerine sat opposite him. The light to buckle in turns on the group braces for take-off. 

It was irrational to have a fear of flight when your literal work was taking heads off of people but Tangerine does, so fuck him. While Lemon took notice of how fast they went on the runway, Tangerine had nowhere to look beside the inside of the plane. He frowns slightly, only to choke when he spots how Wolf was sitting. He doesn't remember the man taking off his coat but it's nowhere near his body, instead, the vest pressed perfectly on broad shoulders and chest, the column of his neck prominent as he rests his head back. The brit swore under his breath, suddenly too keen on looking anywhere but at Wolf.

The captain announces that they are steady in the air and passengers are free to roam. Wolf was the first to stand, eager to leave the sitting room.

Wolf made his way behind the twins and opened a door, leading to the bar. The twins follow, taking in the spacious room with a pool table in the middle, a couch next to it, and a bar on the far end. He slides behind the counter, already scouring the vast choices of alcohol and non-alcohol. "Fancy a drink, boys?" 

"I'll take Scotch," Lemon has already made his way to the island, taking a seat.

"Buboun for me," Tangerine mimics his brother, though he gravitates towards the seat closest to Wolf. The man nods, fishing for the bottles and glasses. 

"Here we are gentlemen, enjoy," He gives Lemon his drink, then Tangerines, placing the glass with a wink before he sips on his. Tangerine had to scoff in order to hide the annoying blush it spurred.

"Does the pool actually work or is it jus' for show?" Tangerine asks in order to avert Wolf's gaze from him. The man perks and skids out from behind the bar.

"In fact, it does," He picks a pool cue. "Want a round, Tangerine?" Wolf purrs, his smirk sharpens. 

That voice is gonna be the death of me. "Sure, see how well you can take me,"

"Oh you're on, darling," 

After an hour and a half, a couple of drinks later, and enough inappropriate innuendos throughout the game to make Lemon cackle while Tangerine tries to contain his growing infatuation—and arousal, but he wouldn't admit that. Wolf, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. His arm would brush with Tangerine, making the man shiver slightly. He would lean too close, enough to feel the warmth from the agent. When he aims to hit a ball he would bend over enough to accentuate the curve of his ass and would hear a curse under Tangerine's breath, he smirks. 

When they realize the sky has turned a subtle violet, hints of orange peeking through the clouds, they've settled down into the couch and into a comfortable silence. They left around midday from the runway, should the flight go well then they would arrive in Belgium at night. 

"Well, I'm gonna go change, I'm having dinner once I arrive there," Wolf stands, leaving his empty glass at the far end of the bar. "You two can tidy up, or whatever you please," 

And with that he enters the designated bedroom, door clicks shut. Tangerine realizes he's left it unlocked. 

"Mate," 

"What?" The brunette answers, a little too harsh for Lemon's level look.

"You fancy him-"

"No i do not-"

"Quit lyin' mate!"

"Am not! God," Tangerine melts into his seat. "He's just…"

"Just? Bruv, come one," Lemon sat up straight, his arms propped on his legs, and regarded his twin with serious eyes. "Throughout the whole day, you've been lookin' at him like he hung the moon," Tangerine scoffs at that. "That, or, you've been trying to fucken' shag him all day,"

"Fucken hell…" The worst part is that his twin was right, he was trying to get into Wolf's pants. Not that he's not interested in Wolf as himself, no, in fact, he's also trying to suppress the idea of going on a midday stroll around Burgess with the man. No, Tangerine was infatuated, to a mission no less.

Just then, a thud came from the bedroom, followed by a series of muffled curses, then oddly enough, silence. Tangerine and Lemon shared a look, the younger already reaching into the gun in his coat.

"I'll check," Lemon only nods as he lets his twin approach the room. 

"Tangerine!" Wolf suddenly calls. The air of tension dissipates. "Uh, sorry, can you come in for a second?"

Tangerine sighs, putting away his brass knuckles. "Be right there!" He shrugs when Lemon raises a brow. 

Tangerine curtly knocks twice, before he slowly pushes the door open. "Wolf?"

"Oh just the man I'm looking for," 

The man turns, dress shirt unbuttoned, exposing built chest enough to make a man salivate. His hair is slightly damp, from a shower or face wash Tangerine doesn't know. The man is fiddling with something on his wrists, but the agent is too distracted by the expanse of Wolves chest to realize he's is offering his hand to a gaping Tangerine

"Do you know how to work these? I can't seem to get them around," The object in question is a golden cufflink. Tangerine blanks, then he blinks, looks up at Wolf before looking back down to the link.

"Cufflinks? Really bruv,"

"Well these are new! I don't know how to…" His face scrunches up, before shrugging his shoulders. Wolf's cheeks beam a hint of red. Tangerine bites the urge to kiss them. "I don't know," Wolf sighs.

"Come here," Tangerine huffs, pulling the man's hand closer to his chest. "These things are easy to put on, I don't understand why you couldn't do it yer’self mate,"

"Yeah well maybe I'm just not good at it,"

"Yeah like the spoiled brat you are," Wolf only laughs. 

Tangerines fully focused on the man's cuffs, letting his guard down just enough for Wolf to fully grasp the agent in front of him. The plane's bedroom isn't that big, just enough to fit a queen-sized bed and drawers built into the cabin, so the two men are slightly pushed together due to the circumstances. Wolf notes Tangerine's furrowed brow, his mustache following in his pout, and the way his hair is styled.

"Your hair…"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"It… curls," 

Tangerine falters. His hands shook slightly, finally done putting the cuffs on. In fact, his whole breath shudders. Something akin to fear, or anticipation. He's afraid to meet Wolf's eyes. 

Instead, Wolf reaches under Tangerine's chin. He should be alerted, quick to snap his arm in an unnatural manner, so bad it breaks, despite being his mission. But Tangerine lets him. Let Wolf tilt his chin up, enough until he meets the man's striking eyes. 

"I shouldn't be doing this," Tangerine whispers. He doesn't realize how close he's standing with the man, inches away from him. If he reaches out just enough he could run his fingers on the man's soft skin.

"I shouldn't either," Wolf's eyes grow darker, his gaze fleeting to the man's lips. "But…" 

Tangerines too shaky for his own good, his suave has been thrown out the plane's window. He relies on Wolf's guiding hand to bring him closer until he's breathing the same air as Wolf. His lungs ache, like taking lungfuls isn't even enough to sate the burning desire between him and Wolf. 

Their kiss is all-consuming. Tongue and teeth and reverent moving until they fall onto the bed, their breath knocked out of them, but they continue. Wolf makes room so he's on top of Tangerine's thighs, Tangerine can practically feel the heat that's so close to reaching his crotch. Wolf does something with his tongue and it takes Tangerine by surprise. He moans into the kiss, the man above him devouring the noise like a man in drought. His hands travel from Tangerine's shoulders, chest, to his hips, not demanding but holding—grounding him. Wolf is asking permission and Tangerine is willing.

"You're okay with this?" Wolf whispers when they part for air. "Is this good?" 

"Fuck yes just-" Wolf is smiling and it takes everything for Tangerine to not entwine their mouth together again, instead he wraps his arms around the man's neck, pulling slightly until his pupils dilate in surprise. "Continue, now."

Wolf grins. Tangerine realizes where he got the name from."Gladly, love,"

—

They're on the private runway in Belgium. The sky has turned dark and stars are starting to show themselves. Tangerine and Lemon are standing outside the jet, near a parked car that's designated for them as a closing for their mission. Wolf's assistant is inside the jet, getting his luggage, and so is Wolf.

Lemon has an annoyingly smug grin on his face while he leans on the car. 

Tangerine on the other hand is readjusting his collar so the hickeys won't show.

About two hours earlier, Tangerine finally managed to pry himself off of a clingy Wolf and into the lounge cabin where Lemon, to his surprise, is taking a nap on the couch. He'd half expected a raised eyebrow, maybe a teasing smirk on his brother's face yet he gets an eye full of a snoring Lemon. He huffs, retreats back into the bedroom to grab a spare blanket not wrapped around Wolf like a Caterpillar, and drapes it over his twin. 

Tangerine pours himself a drink then sits on the bar, mulling over the interaction that happened the past hour. Somehow, out of sheer luck, Wolf pounded into him and made him scream and beg before performing the best aftercare he's ever experienced in his life. They cuddled for fucks sake! And Tangerine is not a cuddler—despite what Lemon says.

How the bed didn't break or Lemon didn't come barging in thinking his brother got ambushed is beyond him. He thanked whoever bastard made the plane's bedroom soundproof. 

Tangerine runs his hand to the side of his neck tracing over bites and marks Wolf carelessly placed. It makes him shiver, something about the possessive 'mine' it gives off excites him. But he thinks, what are they? What does this mean?

He's had his fair share of honeypots in his merc life. Bedded men and women for missions or for his own relief, and yet—something is swelling inside of him. When he sees the way Wolf smiles, teasingly or sincerely with stars in his eyes as if Tangerine is the missing comet in his galaxy, or the way he laughs freely when he gives a jab about his pool skills or when he giggles. light and short from an offhand joke. The way his hand ghosts over Tangerine's body, the bruises that will surely appear on his hips, sensitive skin meets attentive fingers.

He remembers the way Wolf held his hand while he was buried deep, breathing into his ear as he grunts and moaned with each thrust. Wolf traced a careful finger in his healed scar and he asked how he got it, which Tangerine only brushed off as an accident in a mission. Then Wolf proceeds to press his lips to it. He kisses them like prayers, once and twice until he bites lightly, definitely leaving a mark before he whispers 'So you won't remember this from a mission, but from me.' Tangerine almost came then and there.

It's not just his attractiveness, but Tangerine is falling. Hard.

He's afraid of how far he'll fall for a one-time mission. 

Cut to two hours later, they've landed, Tangerine has gathered himself enough to be presentable and Wolf is still getting his luggage. 

The evening in Belgium brings a cold breeze over the runway where they've landed. Tangerine pulls at his outer coat tighter, his eyes scanning the vast concrete range until he meets Lemon standing behind him. To no one's surprise, his twin is still smirking at him, which makes Tangerine scoff and instead divert his attention to the opened Jet door. He knows Lemon is currently staring a hole on his back and he almost turns to argue with him before Wolf pops out of the jet, day bag in hand.

"There you guys are! I thought you'd left already," There's an underlying tone of relief unnoticed by Tangerine admiring the man making his way down the jet stairs.

"Nah mate, job says to escort ya' til yer' safe, right?" Lemon hollers from behind Tangerine, making sure he's loud enough to beat the wind and test his twin's patience.

Wolf laughs and nods, mumbles something too quiet for the harsh wind, until his assistant makes their way out of the jet. The man turns, regards the person in the crisp suit, before they take his day bag and into the car that'll take Wolf off of the twins' hands. Tangerine half thought that'll be it, Wolf would wave them goodbye from the car door and zoom off, never meeting Tangerine again. Instead, the man makes his way past him and to Lemon.

"Thanks so much for keeping me safe," Wolf places a stray lock behind his ear as the wind picks up, making his hair wave around. 

"Part of the job bruv," Lemon shrugs. "You take care though, thanks for the jet ride," 

"Of course," Wolf chuckles. Tangerine almost lost his eyes with the way he stared in shock as Wolf pulled his twin into a hug. Lemon, the 'people's person' he is, patted the man's back firmly before they let go. They shared a brief conversation that Tangerine couldn't catch.

But Lemon laughs, patting Wolf's arm and he laughs too, before Lemons stares at Tangerine's confused look and laughs again. His twin only gets more confused from their interaction.

Finally, Wolf walks over to Tangerine, his blinding smile in place. Tangerine thinks he can get drunk on just seeing them.

"Tangerine," He regards, righting another stray hair.

"Wolf," Tangerine nods. He's conscious of how his curls look, definitely messier than Wolf's hair.

"I guess this is it," 

"It is,"

"You'll…" Wolf inhales. His heart drums. "You and Lemon will get your payment. Thanks for taking care of me," 

"Yeah," The merc swallows. "Y-yeah o'course,"

Tangerine is already leaning into Wolf before he knew it, the man opening his arms and accepting Tangerine's crushing weight. His hands claws on Wolf's pristine jacket, gripping and tugging just to take an ounce of Wolf with him. Wolf isn't any different from Tangerine—He's trying to gather the merc into his arms, to engulf him fully, feeling the warmth of his body the way they held each other in the plane. 

They pull apart. If Tangerine's eyes are not playing tricks on him he swore he saw Wolf's eyes shake. 

"I'll miss you," Wolf's voice wavers. Tangerine swallows around a lump.

"Yeah," He nods. He's afraid any other word would break his restraints. 

When Tangerine thought Wolf would walk past away, leaving him fully and into his car, instead the man pulled Tangerine close again, his breath against his ear.

"You know where to find me," Then suddenly he sobers up and smiles. Tangerine stares in complete confusion.

"This should cover everything, use it as you want." 

"What…?" 

Wolf pushes a sleek black card onto Tangerine's palm. Upon realizing, Tangerine sputters then stares at Wolf. "Are you insane?!" He shouts.

"For you? Maybe," He jokes, already running towards his car and assistant. "I'll see you later, Tangerine," He winks, one leg already in the black Chevy. 

"Oi you git! We can't-" 

And he's off. Tangerine stands in disbelief, his eyes wide, hair now fully out of place. The merc feels relief and excitement but he can't hide the slight disappointment of never seeing Wolf again. Or so he thought. 

"Hey, what's that peeking out your back?" Lemon points from behind him. Tangerine raises a brow. He reaches into his back pockets, before he feels a piece of paper, clearly out of place. 

Tangerine pulls it out and begins to read it. He squints from the minimal light, trying to make out the words, until he recoils because he didn't read words, he read digits.

Wolf gave him his number. Personal number if he judges from the note above saying 'Call me'. 

"That bloody… madman," Tangerine sighs. He follows the dimming backlights of the chevy before it exits the runway area, into the night to god knows where.

"Well, looks like you got yer'self a good man,"

"God i hope so," He exhales. He can only pray that Wolf would call back and be the gentleman he might be because Tangerine is gone for him, and it's gonna be one hell of a trip to get back down.

Lemon cackles, he shakes his head then makes his way into their car. Tangerine blinks away the afterimage before he joins his twin.

"Is that a fucken' black card?" Lemon stares incredulously at the card on Tangerine's palm, now it's his turn to laugh.

"Mate," He turns to the shocked Lemon. "Let's have fun in Belgium," He grins.

Requests are open! <3

[danosrosegarden]

Politely requesting The Riddler himself getting coaxed into Reader's lap and given some kisses on the face despite that he's supposed to be spooky and scary.

Just Like Heaven - Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

Contains: fluff and very mild references to violence.

Note: Eli? Writing something SFW? It's actually more likely than you'd think.

"Did you get it done?"

The apartment was dark, the hardwood floors of the living room only illuminated by the shimmering moonlight streaming through the windows. You can hear the door slam behind him, the soft rustling of his clothes, the heavy hit of his boots against the wood. It had plagued your mind like a hungry, sharp-fanged virus...the fear. The fear of what if he gets hurts. What if he gets caught. What if I never see him again. The fear.

The air is thick and heavy with silence before he speaks: "Yeah. I got it done." You can't help but squeal and rush towards him, wrapping your arms around his stocky, trembling frame. His very first kill.

"Oh, Eddie, isn't it a relief?"

He's nodding and rambling about something, but you have trouble hearing. The blood is whooshing against your tender eardrums. Your heart is quivering in the cage of your chest. You can't believe he really did it.

"Come sit," you urge, hopping over to the couch. The apartment feels charged with magic as you sit down in slice of pale moonlight.

"I'm so happy for you," you whisper as he lumbers over to you. You hold your arms out and grab against the air. "In my lap."

Eddie pauses. "Huh?" You pat your lap with a needy hand and smile. "Come on, in my lap." He sighs and sit down on your plush thighs.

"Take the mask off, scary." He turns towards you and looks deep into your shining eyes. "Are you actually scared of me?"

The question triggers something hot and sparkling inside of you. Pity? Sympathy? You can't tell. You had thought about it before...were you scared of him? He treated you like you had toaster-warm, carnation pink wings...a touch any less than delicately love-laced would cause them to crumble. You were his angel.

"No, I'm not scared of you." "Good." "Take it off, please."

He removes the mask with shaking hands. You can't imagine the rush that must be racing through his blood. Pure, red-hot euphoria. It must feel cleansing. Renewing. It must feel like heaven.

You planted a kiss on his flushed cheek as soon as his skin laid bare to you. How soft and sweet he was, like a fresh peach painted with water droplets. Ripe for the season, ready for picking.

"You're so brave, Eddie," your gentle voice swooned as you continued to kiss him. "So brave, so smart..."

"Th-thank you," he choked out. His palm found its way to the back of you head, and he pet your hair as you traveled towards his lips.

"I'm so proud of you, Riddler." Edward froze. "Say that again?" You grinned. "I'm proud of you, Riddler."

His eyes fluttered shut. He nodded solemnly. "I like how you sound, saying my name."

He was everything...the soft, cool breeze rustling the withering tree leaves. The warmth of coffee, whispering heat down your throat and into your grumbling stomach. The cracking of bones. The rotting of skin.

No, you were not afraid of him. You knew Edward Nashton too well to be afraid of The Riddler.