#Scratch is best third wheel ever

[cure-orchid]

What better way to practice drawing characters then to use them with memes.

[elixirfromthestars]

Boulevard Confessions

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader 

Summary: Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): drinking / fluff / jealousy / divergent from canon timeline / suggestive language / tipsy symptoms / mentions of war + the hardships that came with it

a/n:  Here’s a little piece that’s been sitting unfinished in my drafts for ages. For context, this timeline is one where Steve and Bucky both made it back from the war safe and sound and are enjoying their lives now that the war is over. Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ As a little psa my writing challenge is still ongoing!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

for ambiance 🎶

“ I am about to spew my dinner all over this table,” you grimace, downing the rest of your martini. The bitterness of the spirits was lost on you as your consumption grew in time with your sour mood.

Peggy eyed you from across the table, holding back her amusement, “ If you keep stuffing your face with martinis you will.” You reach out to grab another unclaimed drink, but before you could, Peggy slid the rest of them away from you. You crossed your arms, blowing out a resigned sigh. Even in your inhibited state, you knew better than to argue with an SSR agent. 

Peggy shook her head at you, “ As your best friend I have an obligation to put a stop to this. Don’t you have a shift tomorrow at the clinic?” Your eyes went wide at the reminder. 

You slump in the booth, dreading the bad hangover awaiting you in the morning. “ I do, but thankfully it's in the afternoon. I won’t feel it by then. . .” You trailed off, failing to convince Peggy, or yourself, you wouldn’t be miserable at work tomorrow. Peggy turned to look at the dance floor before returning her attention to you, “ You know, maybe you should dance the dizzy away. It might help you sober up.” Your lips purse at her suggestion, noticing a certain blonde-haired blue-eyed super soldier returning from the bathroom.

 “ It's easy for you to say. You have a dance partner,” you motioned over to Steve. 

“ You would too if you would only go up and ask him,” she pointed out. 

You glanced at the dancing couples, “ No way. With the way that leech is clinging on to him—I’d never get one word in.”

She shrugged, “ You’ll never know until you try.” These were her parting words before Steve arrived at the table and escorted her onto the dance floor. You watched them, your head bopping along tiredly to the swing music. 

Maybe you should have stayed home. 

You almost didn’t come to the outing—being the third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn’t exactly your ideal Thursday night fun. However, Peggy had mentioned Bucky would come along, and seeing as you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks due to conflicting schedules, you thought this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up. 

That was until the leech—a woman named Darla—decided to hog Bucky all night. Darla had been trying to get with Bucky for over a month now. You found this out tonight when Steve made a comment about it. Bucky hadn’t paid it much importance, so you thought it must have not been anything serious. However, right about the time you and Bucky were starting to catch up, Darla came over and dragged him away. 

Since then you’ve been inhaling martinis like your lungs preferred them over air. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted over to Bucky’s figure. Handsome as ever in his navy suit—your favorite color on him—and hair neatly combed. Watching as Darla threw herself at him with the courage that you lacked. Pulling him every which way on the dance floor, holding his hands to her hips in a tight grip. 

Your stomach contents were threatening to come up again. 

When did things get so complicated? You scratched at your brain for an answer. Spending time with Bucky had been so easy back at the military base where you met. You were stationed there in the medical unit caring for wounded and ill soldiers. During that time, you became great friends with Peggy and everyone on the Howling Commandos team. Bucky would frequently visit the medical unit even when he wasn’t sick or wounded. Sometimes you swore he would fake injuries or aches just to come and see you. Anytime he came in with something new he would refuse to see any other nurse but you.

It made you feel special. While other women were smitten with his charms and stumbled over seizing his attention—you had it without effort. You had so much more than just his attention without even trying. On hopeless nights he shared his fears, on days where the war seemed endless you eased his worries, and when he felt like the world was crashing down on him his heart spilled all vulnerabilities to you. 

You found refuge from the horrors of war in each other—a balm to each other’s wounds that went beyond the physical. In no time, something deeper for him bloomed within your heart. 

Ever since the war was over, however, things have been different. It’s been a couple of years and Steve and Bucky work alongside Peggy for the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Going on missions has become their norm, so seeing your friends is a rarity nowadays. 

You on the other hand were given a job at a children’s clinic in Brooklyn. You were grateful for this small piece of normality coming back to you. Treating smaller wounds on smaller bodies instead of lethal wounds during a relentless battle. Your senses are permanently burned with sights, sounds, and smells horrific enough to induce nightmares—and they do—managing to steal precious hours of sleep from you almost every night.

It was something you and Bucky especially bonded over.

“ May I have the honor of a dance, gorgeous?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to meet a pair of unrecognizable hazel eyes. A handsome stranger stood in front of you, his hand outstretched for you to take. If you had but only one percentage less of alcohol in your system you would have declined his offer. This of course wasn’t the case, and not wanting to reminisce on more melancholy thoughts, you decided to listen to Peggy’s advice and dance the dizzy away.

Even if it wasn’t with the man you wanted to dance with.

“ You may,” you smiled at him, taking hold of his hand. Swiftly you were swept into the sea of couples on the dance floor. The handsome stranger—who you soon learn was named Thomas—was an impeccable dancer. With one hand holding yours, and the other holding you gently at your lower back, he spun you around the dance floor in rhythmic kicks and slides. Thomas’ energy was infectious and you couldn’t help but match his enthusiasm. 

After two dances your footwork and Thomas’ were practically synchronized. Thomas twirled you, causing a giggle to escape your lips. It seemed the alcohol was stubborn about staying in your system as the twirl caused the dizziness to come back—for a split second—making you trip over your own foot. Thomas caught you and steadied you, both of you laughing at your clumsiness. The carefreeness of it all lulled the ache in your heart.

Behind Thomas, you caught a glimpse of Peggy who was dancing as joyfully with Steve. Her eyes met yours and she sent you an encouraging smile. Soon after, her eyes drifted to something behind you, turning her smile into a smirk. You went back to dancing with Thomas, but manoeuvered around to get a look at what caused Peggy to smirk. Your heart did a little jump when you discovered she had been looking at Bucky and Darla, dancing a few feet from where you were. 

Correction. She had been staring at a Bucky you barely recognized. His jaw clenched and body rigid as he glared daggers at the back of Thomas’ head. Darla beside him looked snubbed, tugging on Bucky’s arm to get his attention. His tense demeanor didn’t move an inch no matter how much she protested. The pair were no longer dancing, merely standing in the sea of all the couples. This piqued your curiosity. 

Why had he stopped dancing? And to glare at Thomas of all things?

You didn’t have much time to think about it as Darla, clearly fed up by Bucky’s lack of attention, grabbed him by his arm and pulled him away from the dance floor. You swayed to and fro with Thomas, controlling the direction you were swinging in to try and not lose Bucky from your line of sight. 

Where was Darla taking him?

Your heart stopped when you realized where they were going. Darla was making a beeline for the back of the bar where the honey hallway was. The spot where all the couples went to have a little more privacy and fool around without having to leave the bar. If he was going there with Darla, then maybe things were more serious between them than you previously believed.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when reality sank in. 

You excused yourself from Thomas, scurrying away in need of some fresh air. He offered to follow along, but you declined wanting to be alone. You threw the entrance door open into the Brooklyn night as a sickly feeling spread throughout your body. 

You stepped into the street, the swing music fading into the background as the door closed behind you. You took in a deep breath, once again regretting the amount of alcohol you had consumed.

If you weren’t drunk seeing Bucky with someone else wouldn’t have hurt so much. It wouldn’t have knocked the air out of your lungs like it's doing now.

You know that’s a lie. That’s a damn lie you’re telling yourself to get you through the night. To give you the strength to focus on your surroundings and trudge home. 

You’d eventually do that. First, however, your body seemed to want to cling to a street lamp to bring the world back to you. The cold metal underneath your palms grounding you for a moment. The breeze blowing past you threading through your hair as if to comfort you.

“ Doll, everything alright?” Your heart stuttered when you heard his voice, the thud of the bar door closing following it. You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying or doing anything the liquid courage in your system was trying to wrestle out of you. 

You knew you needed to make a quick getaway. 

“ I’m fine. Just heading home,” you were straight to the point before turning to walk away. Not looking at him as you put one foot in front of the other—and then stumbled. 

Bucky caught you, his arms offering a strong support,“ Woah, Y/n, how much did you drink?” There was a slight annoyance in his tone. As if the mere thought of you having fun was preposterous. 

Or at least that’s how your tipsy state interpreted it.

“ Doesn’t matter. I can have a drink or two if I want to. I get to have fun too,” you retort, trying to push his arms away from your body. Your arms are no match for his, as he doesn’t budge an inch—on the contrary, his hold gets more firm. The world started to spin more, but at this point, whether it was because of the martinis or his proximity—you wouldn’t know. 

Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes,“ This isn’t having fun. This is going overboard,” he counters. His constant need to hold you steady and scold you for drinking irked the part of you that was already upset with him—fueling it more. Especially when you had the image of him heading to the honey hallway with Darla ingrained in your brain. And his arms, the ones around you now, swinging her around on the dancefloor. 

There was something dark bubbling an envious brew within you. 

“ Why do you give a damn?” you snap out harshly. He stills at your tone and it's enough to shake his hold off of you. You force yourself to look at him. Intending to shoot him an annoyed glare. Something to convey what your heart felt when your words failed to—but when your eyes met his you froze. 

They were dark—virtually stormy—and yet, there was a hint of pain in them. Almost as if you had kicked him, but he was toughing it out.

“ What was that about?” He finally spoke after what seemed like too long. 

“ What was what about?” You feigned innocence. 

His eyes got darker, a disapproving half smile on his face,“ Don’t play coy. I come out here to check on you. You’re stumbling like a drunk fool. I try to help and you snap at me?” 

“ I didn’t ask you to,” you’re quick with your dismissal.

“ You…unbelievable…” Bucky lets out a scoff, not knowing how to respond. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you. In his mind, you’re simply too drunk to regulate yourself. He doesn’t know the vile jealousy that bubbles in the pit of your stomach and gnaws at your heart. He doesn’t know the intense battle your emotions are having with your brain—right in front of him—to stay silent before you truly say something you cannot take back. 

“ Go back inside. I’m heading home,” you say simply, not wanting to dwell on this conversation any longer. You feared what might come of it if you didn’t.

“ No. I'm walking you home,” he shakes his head firmly, his tone matching in conviction. 

“ No, you're not,” you reply, turning to make your way down the boulevard. Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, “ Like hell I'm not, doll. I'm not letting you walk home alone.” 

“I'm not letting you walk me home. I don't want you to,” you say adamantly as your feet start moving. Bucky is right beside you as they do, not letting you get away,“ I don't care what you want or don't want. I'm walking you home and that's final.” His voice leaves no room for argument. 

The martinis in your system don’t particularly give a damn, but it is enough to quiet you for the time being. Your speed increases slightly, but Bucky can match it easily. For a moment you consider running—as ridiculous as an idea that may be. 

The sharp patter of your footsteps against the pavement synchronizes with the thudding of his as they mingle down the boulevard. The city sounds around you are an otherwise low hum of the occasional car and distant conversation. The city still whispering its signs of life at this time of night.

The walk to your place isn’t too far. And you know if you don’t shake him off soon there would be an unpleasant conversation awaiting you when you arrive.  

“ Don’t you have someone waiting on you at the bar?” You remind him with a little sting to your heart. Secretly hoping this wasn’t the reason he’d walk away from you.

Bucky frowns, thinking for a moment before speaking,“ What? You mean Darla?” The sound of her name on his lips bristles you. 

“ Yeah, her,” the word her spills from your lips as if it was venomous. Bucky catches that and is taken aback for a second. His footsteps coming to a stop. You push yourself to keep walking. Taking this as a sign to ignore the tiny part of your brain that begs you to stop moving.

Not a minute later Bucky strides to your side,“ Doll…are you jealous?” He asks with the tiniest bit of doubt, his small smile overshadowing it. 

“ Me? Ha! No,” your denial is quick—too quick. His small smile turns into a wide grin. You’ve just confirmed his conjecture,“ Yes, you are.” 

“ No. Go ahead and marry her for all I care. I won’t be at the wedding anyway,” you don’t mean what you say and yet you said it anyway. Playing up the indifference act you’ve dawned. 

“ You won’t be at my wedding?” He’s not upset when he responds, he's amused. He has to hold back his laughter at your train of thought. This gets under your skin and you grumble a snippy no before picking up your pace. You’re now imagining Darla in a wedding dress next to Bucky in his suit and it does devastating things to you. 

“ That’s impossible.”

“ How so? I just won’t go.”

His tone takes a more serious turn when he replies, “ It’ll be hard to have a wedding without the bride there.” You come to a halt, your head whipping so fast to look at him you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“ What?” You manage to find your voice. His gaze softens,“ You heard me, doll.” He’s being completely sincere—you know this deep down. However, there’s still a part of you that doesn’t believe this is happening. That believes this to be a dream.

“ You don’t mean that.”

“ I do. If you were to ask me where I see forever—I see it with you.”

His confession takes your breath away. The mere admission of him thinking of you as his eternity—as the one he wants beside him for life—your heart could burst at how delightfully overwhelmed it feels. 

“ But you—” you start and his pointer finger gently presses against your lips to shush you. He already knows what you’re about to bring up and he needs to nip it before your drunken mind jumps to wilder conclusions.

“ She’s just a friend. She’s a secretary at the SSR—nothing more. I was dancing with her to be nice. Honestly, I was trying to find a polite way to leave her and get back to you until I saw you dancing with that guy,” he removes his finger from your lips once he’s done explaining. At the mention of Thomas, his jaw clenches briefly and annoyance flashes in his eyes. 

It dawns on you why he was glaring at Thomas earlier. The realization of Bucky having felt as jealous as you did sends your heart ablaze. Your heart had gone through so much tonight, you were surprised it hadn’t gone into cardiac arrest already. 

“ Who’s the jealous one now?” you tease, an almost giddy smile on your face. 

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully,“ Yeah, doll. Unlike you, I’ll admit it. I was jealous. I don’t like seeing you with another man. Laughing and dancing—should've been me, not him,” he says stepping closer to you. His eyes reflected pure adoration.

“ Why didn’t you ask me?” your question comes out quieter than you’d like. Enamored with the way he’s looking at you. You can barely focus on anything else. 

“ Because when it comes to you I get all nervous and worked up. It's like I’m a punk again—a dumb kid with a crush. I don’t want to mess it up with you, Y/n. I would never want to do anything to lose you. Guess I got too caught up in doing things right I didn’t do anything at all,” Bucky opens up to you, his answer shedding away any last bit of hesitance in your body.

“ Bucky…I wish it would’ve been you instead too,” you say softly, stepping closer until you’re only a few inches away from him. His features match yours in fondness as he gently reaches out to grab hold of your waist, pulling you even closer, and closing the final bit of distance between you.

Your hands rest delicately at his chest. You can feel the way his heart races under your fingertips, drawing out a small gasp from you. Knowing you had this effect on him delighted you. It made you wonder how long you had been making him feel this way—and how long you had missed the signs.

“ Told you. I’m a dumb kid with a crush,” he reiterates with a soft chuckle. You giggle at his words, beaming dreamily at the way that all of this is real. That Bucky has feelings for you, and you two can only grow closer from here on out.

For a split second his eyes dart to your mouth. Having you so close like this tempts Bucky to no end. Everything he’s ever wanted to do with you crosses his mind and it drives him crazy. He has no idea where to start or if he’ll even let himself start anywhere. 

Your body thrums with anticipation as it waits for him to make a move.  

Bucky ends up tenderly kissing your forehead, “ Come on, doll. Let’s get you home.” Your lips form a light pout, disappointed his lips didn’t touch yours. He sees your reaction and he laughs, giving your hips a light squeeze, “ Doll, our first kiss will happen after you get that alcohol out of your system,” he says, one hand reaching up to lightly swipe at your nose—finding you endearing. 

“ We’ve already had our first kiss.” 

“ Doll we—oh, we have…” 

The memory of you two drunkenly kissing in the medical tent on one particularly lonely night during the war flashes through your minds. The already tension between you rising to a palpable form. 

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes,“ Still. If I’m being honest, I’m not stopping at just one kiss. So let’s wait until you’re sober, alright?”

“ Not stopping?” Your tone is playful as you pry for further explanation. 

“ Oh no, doll. I'll be doing so much more than kissing you,” he smirks, his words laced with suggestion. His hand goes out to cup your face, caressing your cheek. It warms under his fingertips at his implication. The air around you buzzes with electricity. 

He can tell where your mind went and he’s enjoying every second of it,“ Yeah, doll. Like taking you out on a proper date,” he winks at you. A genuine laugh erupts from you at the way he side steps what he really meant. He joins you in the laughter, his eyes telling you the truth of what he really desires.

You. Every bit of you.

You interlace your fingers with his, knowing deep down he has a point. When you kiss Bucky you want to be all there. You want all your senses to be fully awake to drink in every bit of him. 

Especially if it goes farther than a kiss.

Bucky moves you over so he’s walking on the outermost part of the sidewalk, holding your interlaced hands to his waist so you’re pressed right up against his side as you walk. You tease and playfully banter all the way to your apartment. The unspoken promises and unmistakable yearning for one another dancing around you two. Assuring you there was so much more to come. 

[risuola]

▶ CATORU — stealing Suguru's clothes just feels natural, they're comfy and cozy and they smell like him, but thing is — his hoodies are black... and Satoru's hair is white.

contents: college+roommates!au, fluff, polyamorous relationship — wc. 1079

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

“Geez, you really need to brush that cat out,” your best friend commented, plucking a white hair off your black hoodie once you dropped down onto the couch next to her placing the wine glasses, totally not regular glasses, and a bottle on the table. You invited her for the first time after you moved into the new apartment. It was a celebration of your new place, successfully passed exams and just a nice opportunity to catch up on life.

“Cat?” You looked at her; confusion apparent in your eyes and she pointed at the hairs in her fingers, few short, snow-white strands that she collected from you and surroundings. It wasn’t unusual – you had a habit of stealing Suguru’s clothes (and they are usually black), and Gojo has a habit of nuzzling into you, demanding head scratches so it’s only natural that his white hairs stick to you and are quite visible. “Ah, that cat. Yeah, I really need to brush him out. Or maybe I’ll just shave him, I don’t know yet.”

The thought made you giddy inside, it really cracked you up. Before that, you never realized that your friend had no idea what kind of relationship you are in. You never hid it from her, you openly told her about the three of you doing things together, but somehow, the possibility of you sharing your life with Suguru and Satoru at the same time flew over her head. You also are quite openly affectionate with both of your boys, but it’s possible that once your friend saw you kissing Geto, she automatically categorized your interactions with Gojo as purely friendly. You were not even sure if she ever had a chance to see you with your white-haired princess.

“It’s cute you and Geto took a white kitten. It’s because of Gojo, right?” She smiled cutely, throwing the hairs away as you poured her some of the cheap prosecco.

“Yeah, the kitten is definitely reminding us of Satoru.” You laughed softly, taking your own glass to your lips. “Our little Catoru.”

“Awww, that’s adorable,” she squealed, savoring the taste of pinkish liquid. “How is he dealing with it, by the way?”

“Dealing with what?”

“You know, how’s Gojo dealing with the fact you stole his best friend? I was wondering, is he okay with you being and living with Suguru? They are pretty much joined at the hip.” She was curious, genuinely, and you can tell she really has no clue, so you decided to play along.

“I mean, Satoru is doing great, you don’t need to worry.”

“’ts good,” your bestie exhaled with some kind of relief, and you couldn’t shake off the amusement off your shoulders. You wondered how she would react to the revelation of your polyamorous relationship. Would she be surprised? In your eyes, it was only natural to accept both Satoru and Suguru into your life, the boys are inseparable, you couldn’t date one without dating the other. That was just the way it is, the packaged deal, the law of nature if you will. “Is your boyfriend home?”

“Sugu? He has martial arts training today. Will be back later. Don’t worry about it, okay? You’re my guest,” you reassured her and the conversation went smoothly from that point. You talked a little about everything, about college, about teachers and recent exams, about love life and your recent dates.

“Is Gojo always third-wheeling you two?” She asked when you were telling her about your last movie night. The one that got all three of you deadly backpain afterwards because you all fell asleep on the couch in a position that even got Suguru and his super trained, stretched and fit body suffering. It’s better not to recall how you and Satoru felt.

“Sometimes I feel like I am third-wheeling them,” you laughed, “but yea, we’re actually–“

“Can I see the cat?” Your friend cut you off, suddenly all excited. “God, I completely forgot about him, can I see that fluffball?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure the cat is sleeping and you know, that fluffball gets grumpy when woken up.”

“Pleeeaaaase, I promise, I won’t wake it up. I just want to see the little Catoru, he must be adorable.”

With an exhale you decided to give in. You knew Satoru had a rough night, he got back home in the morning after a visit at his parents’ house and you know his family can be pretty distressing. Now he’s probably sleeping it off, but just a quick visit shouldn’t hurt. With that thought you took your friend to your bedroom.

“Just please, don’t scream, okay? He’s dead tired.” You half-whispered, before opening the doors. She nodded and you peeked inside, just to make sure the cat wasn’t sprawled naked on the bed or something and once sure that it’s safe, you walked in, carefully placing your steps to make as little noise as possible.

Satoru was sleeping, tightly cocooned in blankets with only his head visible from the nose up. He was really worn out, you could tell by the way he was breathing, so deeply and heavily what only happened when he was exhausted. You crouched next to the bed, gently running your fingers through his hair and he purred something, automatically leaning into your touch. Satoru could be at his death bed and would still search for your warmth.

“Do you need something?” You asked quietly, brushing little circles onto his scalp. He made some kind of noise that sounded a little like a no, and you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “If you do, just call me, baby, I’ll be next door.”

Satoru purposefully uncovered the lower half of his face so you could give him a peck, and once he got that, he turned back to his cocoon. You whispered him a little love you, got up and left, leading your visibly stoked friend back to the living room. She was shocked, but at the same time it looked like a realization was hitting her hard and you saw in real time how her expression was changing.

“That was the cat?” She whisper-screamed.

“Yup.”

“So you and Geto and Gojo—?"

“Yup.”

“Like, all three of you?”

“Yes,” you chuckled, pouring her more wine. “I actually had no idea that you don’t know. I thought we’re quite obvious.”

“Now as I think about it, you kinda were… I’m gonna need more wine.”

“I’ll text Suguru.”

taglist: @gojos-thot-patrol-main , @chuluoyi

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 8TH 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS ━━ yoichi isagi + overstimulation !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. yoichi isagi + overstimulation. if winning a street race means getting ravaged by your ex boyfriend over the hood of your car then… move bitch! get out the way! (5.6K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, street-racer!au, exes to lovers, toxic relationships, overstimulation, scratching, fingering, sweat kink, pain kink, food play (candy), dry humping, multiple/forced orgasms, oral sex (f!recieving), public sex, possesive sex, unprotected sex, street racer + fem!reader, ex boyfriend + street racer!yoichi isagi.

୨୧ — director’s note. slay! the third kinktober installment is here! i hope you guys like this one, isagi makes me so dizzy...i think he has the bes dirty talk!! enjoy mwah mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

there’s something about street racing that just…gets you off. 

you’ve always enjoyed its thrill, the way having control over the wheel makes you feel when you push yourself to top speeds. adrenaline becomes your new dopamine. like a drug injected straight into your veins — driving makes you feel high. more alive than anything.

the glamourous pink S2K that you drive is your lover, the unpredictable twists and turns of the race course — your best friend. you adore beating men at their own game and looking absolutely fucking stunning at the same time. though, what you love the most, is the thrill of chasing after yoichi isagi.

next to you — your on and off boyfriend, isagi, is probably the best street racer in town. an unpolished gem of untapped potential and a beast of a driver. though with a man like that, competitiveness between you both comes easy — like a third party in your own relationship. its been that way since you met, the two of you falling into the toxic cycle of, racing, winning fucking and breaking up.

and as bad as it sounds, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“you lose tonight, precious,” isagi wipes the grease from his knuckles with a rag as he approaches your car, cocking his head to the side with a smile so twisted it sends a pang of heat from your head to your core. together or not, he’s always had this effect on you — like a fog sweeping over your mind or the oceans waves pulling you under. “and we get back together.” 

“boy, don’t you know i have a race to win?” leaning over the hood of your car, it’s your turn to tilt your head to the side — like a puppy dog, mocking him. your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you peer up at him, the pink of your tongue wrapping around finding a centre point for the bubblegum you’re blowing. it pops on its own. all the while,  a flirtatious confidence seeps from your bones into the night air, luring isagi into your usual game of cat and mouse right before you’re due to race. “i don’t need any distractions, ‘ichi.” 

you can’t help but revel in the way that he shudders upon hearing your name drip from his lips, like the finest and purest form of honey. out of all the girls he’s ever known, you’re the only one who gets him riled up like this without even trying — activating his raw instincts, that carnal desire he always has for you that he keeps locked away whenever you’re not together. 

“baby,” crouching down to your height, isagi smirks as your predatory gaze follows his actions like a vixen in the night. “you know i’d never mess up a race of yours on purpose.” one of his elbows comes up to rest on your hood, the glittery vinyl stickers reflecting against the deep ocean blue in his eyes. your ex lets the weight of his head rest in his palm, a faux pout on his lips as he speaks to you. “how about it, wanna make a bet?” 

you inch closer, close enough for isagi to catch a the whiff of strawberry candy in your breath over the thick sexual tension brewing between you both. “wha’do i get if i win?” you hum slyly, blowing another bubble into the face of your ex lover. 

yoichi mirrors your movements, sliding closer to you so that he lick through your bubblegum, landing a breath’s width away from your sugar-coated and syrupy lips. “you win, ‘n i promise to leave you alone forever.” he rasps, pushing past the lustful tone lodged in his throat. 

standing to your full height, you ruffle his midnight locks with a condescending air about it. “oh baby, you’re so silly.” the superlicious murder slips from between your perfectly glossed lips before you even think to stop it, accompanied by your light laughter. testing your man’s patience has always been your strong suit. 

but before you have a chance to walk away, isagi hooks his fingers through your belt loops and tugs you flush against his tone frame — chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis. “what, you don’t like those terms?” he huffs. “i thought they were perfectly reasonable.

“it’s just that… it’s cute that you think winning me back works that way.” shaking your head, you fail to let isagi have the last word and finally manage to pull yourself from the tendrils of his grip before you become putty in his arms and a mess under his gaze — that twisted mix of annoyance and desire already turning within your stomach, oozing into your nether regions in the form of liquid lust.

“fuck me,” a breathless and playful chuckle resounds in isagi’s throat like a tune base boosted on the stereo, only interrupted by a slick statement that serves to frustrate you even more. “so you’re sayin’ you don’t miss playin’ with my joystick?” he calls out to you while you’re still in eyeshot of his cerulean orbs — the ones that track the sway of your hips as you walk away from him. isagi wants nothing more than to dig his fingertips into the fat at your waist, pull your hips over his hardening cock as blood pulses through it and make you eat those words. 

but he also knows, and from experience, the more pissed off you are — the better you’ll race and the more you’ll want to fuck him later on. 

“i’ll start missing it when you get the right set of tools.” you sing back, sending a wink his way as you hope into the driver's seat of your precious pink baby, shooing off the girls who’d helped you prep your S2K for the race. he watches as you wave to your competitors, buttering them up with your charm before you leave them in the dust. 

and even though he has no right to be jealous — especially when you’re broken up like this, isagi can’t help but want admit to you how seeing you race makes him feel. like now — how you drive right up rin itoshi’s ass and curse at him  to ‘bend over’. everything has sex crazed hormones rushing to his cock and his head gets a little dizzy like he’s been inhaling car fumes and diesel for too long. you fuck him up like no girl ever has before — he’s completely obssesed with you, the ups and downs and fall out of your messy relationship. 

he wants you. feverishly, carnally, and in every way possible and as you pull up in first place after the race — isagi realises, it’s not the race that makes him feel alive.

it’s always going to be you. 

“you’re so fuckin’ frustrating.”

the cash prize isn’t the only good thing about winning your races, it’s the way isagi lives to devour you whole afterwards. 

dark ocean eyes drink in the way your back arches from the hood of your car and it’s cool metal surface — chasing isagi in the heated and humid air, while his hips rock against your cunt almost in tune with the music in the background. the tune of your celebrations. “am i?” you grin, wild and delirious and breathless. “it’s not my fault. thought i told you to quit chasin’ me, yoichi.” 

you giggle, earning a delicious twitch of his dick between your panty-clad folds, spreading a delicious layer of arousal over his clothes. your rival racerpretends to ignore your antics, knowing that he’ll only get riled up and instead focuses on tugging down your flimsy tank top to reveal your sweat shined skin. 

“you could never get rid of me, baby.” you’ve never been immune to the charm of isagi’s hypnotic voice paired with his teasing rows of pearly white teeth that coast over your flesh until goosebumps rise over its expanse. your ex has a way about him, a way that makes it hard for you to shut him out and easier for you to hold your breath and deprive it of the oxygen you need to think clearly. 

to think about escaping this toxicity. 

sloppy kisses to taste the salt on your skin turn to little bite marks, barely there whilst leaving a warm shine to your throat — the temperature proving to be a lustful contrast to the cold metal of your car. he licks and sucks at you possessively, even when other racers pass by and in the back of your mind you briefly recall bachira hollering at the two of you loudly.

just as you reach out to him and wave back, yoichi grabs your wrists in one rough palm and pins them above your head — chuckling into the trail of wet smooches he drags down to your tits, followed by a wild whine that resonates deep in his chest when his cockhead catches on your rock hard clit from behind the many barriers of your clothes. you huff at your newfound restriction. 

a slow, cocky smile spreads over the film of isagi’s lips as if he’s remembered something about your body, that only he knows, in your time apart. how it anticipates and tingles while waiting for his every move, craves to be ravaged and torn apart by him. “focus on me, baby. don’t miss what’s most important to you.” he drawls, gentle notes of condensation slipping into his usually chipper voice. “me.” 

lifting his head from your chest expectantly, being a gentleman and waiting for your consent to kiss. another laugh escapes him when you writhe desperately in yoichi’s grip and wrap your legs around his taut waist to drag him closer for the lip lock you deserve. your prize for being such a winner. he follows your lead, selfishly trapping your lower lip between his teeth before toppling into a hungry kiss — his devious tongue delving it’s way into your mouth to claim it’s every inch possessively. the more you kiss, the more it knocks the lollipop on your mouth about.

all the while, isagi never stops grinding against you — cockhead oozing precum over your cotton decorated pussy lips and budding clit, painting you in the early signs of his arousal. the heat in the air only carries the scent of your sex and mingled notes of diesel fuel — enough to make you dizzy and crave more friction from the street racer as he ruts between your thighs. you’re growing delicious, letting ecstasy trickle through your veins and onto the hood of your car while yoichi drags his cock through your silken slit over and over again until his clothes and his erection are dripping in your sweet juices.

“didnt plan ever plan on… on g-gettin’ rid of ya, pretty boy.” you say through thready breaths, using the strength in your thighs to squeeze isagi close. maybe it’s the adrenaline from your racing high or the fact that isagi cages you in against the car, using his free hand to pinch and pull at sensitive parts of you while he humps at your fluttering and sopping mound — whatever it is, you can feel an orgasm approaching faster than you can register. 

tucking your lollipop into your cheek, you gaze up at isagi with glassy, angel eyes — your mouth open as you pant his praises like a common whore. “did you miss me? i know he did.” then, your eyes shoot down to the rough outline of his dick as it makes you shudder, sex clenching over the veins on his shaft while you practically ride your ex’s precum loaded tip. your dirty talk earns a hearty moan from isagi, his tongue rolling out of his mouth like a dog in rut while he laps at the sweat bearing on your collar bones and neck. “missed my cock so much.” you goad adoringly, a little sick and a little twisted. 

your possession over him fills isagi’s body with concerning amounts of desire and only serves to make him feral — snapping his hips into you faster and harder. his blue eyes drown in an ocean of mirth as they hone in on the light bounce of your chest, his tongue drips in the taste of your light perspiration while he finds his voice over your salacious bump and grind. 

“missed you too baby. missed my fuckin’ pussy,” yoichi grunts selfishly, breathing heavy against your skin and adding to your chorus of shared high pitched moans the closer you get. with one hard thrust, isagi has your unused little hole drooling and your head flying back onto the car’s hood, banging against the metal. the pain only fuels the expanding fire of desire burning bright in your lower tummy — raising the temperature between your bodies. “she’s so sensitive, guess you haven’t fucked anyone while i’ve been gone.” 

his voices oozes condensation, messes with your mind and drags you under the control of your toxic and selfishly possessive ex. it’s like he lives for the the way your thighs quiver around his waist and give all your neediness away, you can’t hide anything from him. he puts your pleasure under a microscope. 

“you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” isagi grins evilly, letting go of your hands as he watches you tremble and spasm and twitch beneath him. rendered useless against the very car that got you to win your race. 

he’s not wrong, however, for the knot that had been tightening up in your lower tummy begins to unravel too fast for your own liking. an orgasm crashes down on you like a heavy storm that’s escaped isagi’s deep blue eyes and he bucks into you monstrously through it all — hardly giving you a second to breath. your release pours out of you in a clear stream, your eyes disappearing into your skull and your shaky fingers into the roots of your ex’s hair as you tug on it to ground yourself. 

it gets everywhere, seeps through your ex boyfriend’s clothes, splashes against your S2K and gathers in a pool beneath your shaky ass. yoichi coaches you through it with soft, loving praises as if you’d never been broken up. kisses that make your knees knock and breath hitch. you cum so fast, so hard and so soon that your lollipop rolls out from between your swollen spit slicked lips, but isagi is quick to grasp the sugary treat dragging it over your them and down your body. 

he follows it’s sticky trail over your clothes, sucking its flavour from the planes of your skin. the sound of tearing fabric flies under the bustling crowd and revving engines — isagi having ripped off your shorts to expose your temperate, glistening mound to the night air and gleam of car headlights. 

“h-holy shit, ichi! wait—!”

your nails sharply rake at the racer’s scalp in surprise, shocked at the warm-ish sensation of your lollipop pressing against your budding clit as it throbs between the slickness of your folds. “awh, is it sensitive? good.” he tuts down at you menacingly, his voice lowers scratching at the patch of your brain that controls your lustful drive. with the sweet treat still in his grasp, isagi rubs tight circles into your pleasure centre and grind to himself when your thighs instinctively jump apart to give him a better view of the even sweeter dessert between your thighs. 

he knows you. inside and out. 

knows what you even with how on-off your relationship is — as if he’s always been genetically programmed to make you feel good, get you that same high racing gives you. yoichi crouches, no longer standing over you so that he can get a whiff of your scent — the musk of your sex more dizzying than the fumes of gasoline throughout the track. “wanna taste you gorgeous, while you’re still cummin’ for me.” he groans, deep and hungry like he’s been waiting to eat a good fucking meal all day. “that okay?” 

“please…fuckin’ hurry.”  comes your impatient reply, bucking your hips up into the humid air as you chase the friction of the candy against your clit. you feel as though you’re seated right on the edge of another orgasm, inches away from crumbling off of the cliff of euphoria. “you’re so slow,” you heave again, head lolling to the side with your drool oozing onto the hood of your pretty pink car. “see you never learned how to use your…oh—! tools!”

your voice escapes you, shock intertwining with the electrical spark of desire running down the length of your spine to the heartbeat in your pussy. you’re surprised once more when isagi gently nudged the lollipop past your entrance to tease you — ripping it away when you gush like you’re about to cum.

sitting up and resting on your elbows, you glare down into mischievous blue eyes as he pops the candy into his mouth. “mother fucker.” 

“alright, watch it.” the corner of isagi’s lips quirk up into a cocky smirk, enjoying how you writhe against cool metal in contrast to how hot your skin is to the touch. like a furnace, burning from the inside out. 

“you said you wanted to taste me!” you whine, auffovating in the humidity and anticipation. you want him to touch you, but the ghost of kisses he presses along your inner thighs just aren’t enough. 

“i didn’t say i was gonna eat you out though, pretty girl.” isagi whispers, pushing the lollipop into his cheek so he can focus on sucking an array of marks into the swell of your to leave his claim on you. the pointed edge of his teeth sink into the doughy flesh, imprinting a ring of bite marks in place as well. “dunno, don’t think you deserve it.” 

he simply rolls his eyes in response, grunting as he spreads you even further — revealing the webs of cloudy slick that tie your shaky limbs together. yoichi drags a finger through your puffy pussy lips, it’s tip dragging on the silken strings of your arousal until he’s able to circle it over your clenching entrance. 

you let out a defiant whimper, hips rising from your car while a trail of your sweet juices ruin the paint job on your car. “hate you.” comes your weak whisper, trapped in the lodges of your throat while isagi pressed further into your tight little hole and stretches you open. 

“yeah whatever.” he grins lazily, warm breath fanning over your pulsating mound while his nose nudges your sensitive clit. “that’s why you keep coming back to me, precious.” 

the sensation makes your hips buck up, chasing the delicious friction of your ex’s fingertips against your soaked ribbed walls as they ripple around him.  but isagi lives to punish you, make you work for your pleasure or torture you with it for leaving him the dust each and every time. his free hand splays over your navel, pinning you to your own car as a second finger joins the first inside of you — instantly curling to bare down on your spongy g-spot.

the cry that escapes you is raw and powerful, louder than any engine in any model of car — serving to remind isagi of where you are, how on display you are for the hungry eyes of his competitors. he takes this as a chance to remind everyone of who you belong to. no matter how much of a hot shot racer you are, you’ll always belong right underneath yoichi isagi. 

he does nothing to soothe your whimpers and cries, thrusting his fingers deep into your squelching pussy as it echoes into the parking lot in a sweet symphony with your moans. you drool into the seat his palm, thrash on the hood of your car and squeeze down on him with a grip so tight isagi fears that you’ll never let him go. 

“you’re so tense, baby. relax for me,” the man mumbles darkly against your sex. “what’ll make you feel good? should i play with this cute little clit too?” pressing a loving and syrupy kiss to the pleasure nub, isagi moans at your arousal as it pearls on his eager lips. “oh i knew you’d like that. my girl always likes it when her man plays with this messy pussy.” spitting onto your cunt, a sick laugh rumbles in yoichi’s throat as he fucks the frothy mixture back into you, drinking in the way you whine and writhe about the place. all for him. “c’mon, louder baby. let the people hear how pretty you are. how good i’m making you feel.”

saliva coats your tongue, making difficult to breathe between the languid push and pull of isagi’s fingers as they stroke at your insides. he has you ruined, for any other man—  sticky and sloppy between the thighs. the both of you know that only he can get you like this. 

and the sick part about it all, is that you’re fucking enjoying it.

the thrill of being watched by your fellow racers makes you act up, has you crying and moaning a little louder than usual — putting on a show for your ex as you fall back into your toxic routine. those sweet salacious sounds spike higher and higher the closer you get, the more isagi sucks on your clit and scissors his fingers around to press up against sensitive spots along your gummy walls. 

“that’s it pretty girl, give it to me. louder. good girl, good job.” he coos into you oh so condescending, face coated with a crude mix of spit and slick that glistens under the artificial light from the street lamps above. a blistering sense of pride lodges itself in yoichi’s chest when you scream his name, tugging on the roots of his hair once more. “you can do better than that, louder.” 

“ohmygod—! yoichi!” you yelp sheepishly, throwing an arm over your heated face. though it’s not in shame, you can hardly bring yourself to feel embarrassed about gushing on your ex’s face in front of your fellow racers and racing crew. the pleasure he gives you has you too far gone, like a smoke screen over your hazy mind. “g-god i’m… y-yoichi i’m close!”

“yeah?” he laughs breathily, flicking his tongue over your budding clit, pulling the lollipop from the confines of his greedy mouth to slap it against your quivering pussy as well. “you gonna cum?” it’s far too soon, far too much for you to be reaching another orgasm. but there’s been a steady pressure bubbling up just below your navel, tightening and tightening until it threatens to snap. 

you shake your head pathetically, the metal of your car creaking below your hips as you try to run from isagi’s fingers wildly pumping in and out of you. “c-can’t!” 

“can’t? you don’t wanna, hm.” he sucks his teeth, the sound layering softly over the lewd slushy noises echoing from between your thighs. “too bad. i don’t care. cum for me, precious.”

its like your body has a mind of its own, wilfully ignoring the pain of overstimulation as you cum for isagi once more. milky white runs down your ex’s arms in a boiling hot stream, squirting from your abused and used sex. white spots blur the edges of your vision and you shake violently all throughout your second high, the stacks of ecstasy isagi had been building up within you coming crumbling down and leaving you suffocating in your own dust-cloud of lust. 

the rest of your arousal burns a trail down your pudgy thighs like fuel that’s been set on fire, and you can’t even tell what’s up or down anymore. “c-cumming! ��m…fuck, yoichi.” you scream, chest heaving, head rolling to the side— pressed against your car’s cool surface. “please, i can’t.” 

“already? you were talking so big before your race now look at you. s’all too much… poor baby.” isagi works you through your orgasm, controlling your every twitch and every aftershock until you damn near pass out. 

you’re almost too far gone to register the sound of rustling clothes and the feeling of your rival (and ex) pressing himself over you. but then he’s patting your cheek lovingly, drinking in your sweet and tired expression with big blue eyes full of adoration before slipping his lollipop into your drooling mouth to pacify you. 

“‘ichi…” you bleat, exhausted. 

“yeah, yeah. i know, precious. but i think we can manage one more, yeah?” he asks you softly, a little more tender than before as he kisses your forehead, licking up a bead of sweat that runs down it. no matter how many times you break up, he’ll always be good to you. always check in with you. make you cum as many times as you can manage while still making you see stars. “need to show all those fuckin’ losers who you belong to. need to make you mine again.” 

weakly lifting your head, you notice the slight audience of racers you’ve gathered while letting isagi fuck you publicly. all the men you’ve beaten in races over time, staring at the way your man ravages you like the sight is a cool glass of water. it would be a lie to say that the feeling of being watched didn’t send another spark of lust shooting down your spine. 

“one more?” you question him and pout around the lollipop that tastes like you, big bambi eyes blinking up at your ex boyfriend. 

“one more.” yoichi confirms, pressing his forehead to yours in order to coax a kiss out of you. “don’t worry, you can take it.” there’s reassurance hidden in his lustful tone as he lines his drippy cock up with your ruined entrance (having pulled it out earlier). he pulses to life against you, the blood rushing through his shaft teeming with desire for you. isagi lets you sit up on your elbows so that you can watch him bully his cock past your fluttering entrance. 

isagi’s eyes gloss over with debauchery while you swallow him down, brows creasing in the centre of his forehead when he bottoms out inside of you — both of your mouths hanging open in hot moans. only adding to the humid air. blindly, he fumbled for your pretty throat, squeezing it gently with each clench of your slippery walls around his aching shaft. 

“you won’t break, baby.” he tells you, drawing his hips back from the snugness of your cunt to set a slow roll to his thrusts. the feeling makes you cry out, hoarse and needy before being soothed by isagi’s leaking tip pushing along every pleasure spot he knows by heart inside of you. “try a little harder for me.” 

his words leave you breathless and dumbfounded, every logical thought and smart-ass retort having escaped you while isagi’s milky, bulbous tip churns up your insides. your sexes slot together perfectly, his girthy dick wrapped in gorgeous blue and green veins keeps you nice and full and reaches the spots you couldn’t dare to reach on your own. isagi hands over you, supporting his weight on one hand, with his lips a breath’s width away from your own. 

the both of you are love drunk on the sex-crazed hormones buzzing in the hot air between you — particles of lust smashing together the more your bodies start to sync up and move together. yoichi devours you, takes parts of your body and claims them with his teeth and tongue and hand gently squeezing around your throat. he fucks you with vigour, so hard that your car shakes beneath your ministrations and you nearly lose the candy in your mouth once more. 

you return the favour, clawing up and down isagi’s back while his dark hair tickles your forehead, cascades down to your neck as he kisses you wetly and laps over the salt on your skin. everything about you never fails to pull him back into your toxic cycle. where he loves you, fucks you and breaks you. a satisfied groan takes root in his chest like a sturdy tree at the taste of you, his hips still pumping into you at a rapid pace, painting you with thick layers of opaque white that cling to your swollen pussy lips and clit. 

“you’re mine, f-forever. not gonna let… mhm.. anyone else touch you.” he slurs menacingly into the junction between your neck and shoulder, finally letting go of your throat so he can push your knees into your chest — forcing his heavy cock into your cunt as deep as it can go. “never gonna let you go again, precious. never gonna let you go without my cock this king again. you’re fuckin’ mine.”

“all fuckin’ yours,” you drawl back with a delirious smile, dizzy from the new angle. your pleasure mounts once more but with the addition of a spark of pain from the overstimulation. yoichi knows your limits, he knows how much his precious girl can take but delivers it in the best of ways — sinfully bucking down into you so hard that his heavy breeders balls smack rhythmically against the curve of your ass. he succumbs to the tight grip your iron hot core has on him, begging him to stay and to never leave you ever again. 

you have one another in a choke hold, falling into a synced up and salacious bump and grind against the hood of your car. every time isagi ruts into you, you clench down, gushing on his dick and covering him (and your car) in an early release. 

“that’s right baby,” isagi seethes through gritted teeth, blinded by white and the stars from up above as he gets closer and closer to his high. he can no longer stave it off for the benefit of overstimulating you, strung along by each twinge of pain he feels from your nails forming crescent moons in his shoulders and drawing blood. “say it like you mean it. scream my fuckin’ name for all these people, yeah? you want me. the only man who’ll ever make you feel this good.” 

you will yourself to speak but barely have the chance to with the way isagi fucks you sensless.  you choke on air, following your biological instinct to rut up into him, whilst you’re reminded all the reasons why your rival racerwill always be the only man for you. he fucks you like he’s never loved you, like a stranger he may hate but he moans and mewls against you like you’re the only person he’s ever loved. 

isagi doesn’t care about the racing, or the money or the people watching him ruin your sluice sex over and over again. 

he only cares about you.  

“c’mon baby,” he goads, licking up your cheeky nastily. “you can do it, tell me how much you want me. how much you love me, precious.” each syllable that he purrs out shoots straight to the winding, orgasmic knots in your belly. making them tighten painfully. “god, you’re fuckin’ milking me.” 

so you wrap both arms around isagi’s neck, yank at his hair, rip through the skin on his back with your nails (because you know how much he likes it when you hurt him) and say. “i need you, ‘ichi. y-you’re the only one i’ve ever wanted!” 

and that’s all it takes, to give isagi that last burst of energy to make the both of you really feel it. after one, two, three more thrusts — you’re both sent flying over the edge in unison. “m-‘my precious baby, fuuck, all mine. gonna cum…you better cum for me.”thick waves of viscous white cum floods your puffy folds, whilst yoichi bites down hard on your neck to state his high pitched whines, fucking his seed deeper into you until he calms down. 

you’re in no better condition, squirting so hard that you almost lose your grip on reality. a world of colours flash behind your darling eyes when you cum for the third and final time that night, static ringing in your ears alongside the sweet symphony of your ex boyfriend’s moans and the groaning metal from your car. 

you’re sure the paint has been completely tainted with cum by now.

by the time you finally come to and stop spasming around isagi’s softening cock, he’s peeling your sweaty skin away from your car to coddle you in his chest — shielding you from the hungry eyes of your competitors. “keep your eyes to your fuckin’ selves.” he snarls with teeth bared, despite how gently he holds you. 

“easy there tiger,” you sigh, snuggling against him as exhaustion settles into your fucked out bones. “i think they know who i belong to now.” grabbing at his neck, you pull isagi  down for a sloppy kiss — mewling happily at the taste of sweat, sex and sugar on his tongue before passing him the lollipop once more. “guess the money wasn’t the only thing i won tonight.” 

“you’re kinda sick, you know that?” he laughs in response, but before he can kiss you again — the racing crowd starts to scramble at the sound of police sirens.

still curled into your (ex? oh what the hell) boyfriend, you crack a tired smile. “looks like we gotta split, boy.” 

“you comin’ back with me this time, precious?” a smooch is pressed into your hairline while isagi gathers you into his arms fast — bundling you into the passenger's seat since you’re clearly in no state to play get away driver. he doesn’t bother with your clothes. 

“you know that you can’t get rid of me, baby.” you got the keys into the ignition in time for isagi to slip into the driver’s side — steering you away from the scene of the crime. “i’m yours forever, remember?” 

he only chuckles at that, wild blue eyes reflecting the blue and red cop car lights as he looks to you while speeding away.

“god you drive me crazy, i love you. you fuckin’ maniac.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[pinkrelish]

do you think once miss mouse and eddie were in an established relationship she’d bake cakes for his and adrie’s birthday every year?? i feel like she’d go full out for adrie like full on multi tiered princess cake and the first time she does it eddie and his baby just go absolutely feral in the best way possible

ps typ is my favourite slow burn EVER i love it withh all my heart ur so talented

today's my birthday so it seems fitting to answer this! wc: 496

morning dawns soft blue in a kitchen warmed by low lights, and orange coils. a kettle boils water too hot for a third cup of instant coffee, and cooked sugar enriched by vanilla bakes through the small apartment. suffocating heat from the oven on the early june day breaks sweat on your forehead as you re-whip the frosting you made an hour ago, plastic bowl in your arms still cold from the fridge. the yellow cake cooling on the rack simple, homemade. jack of all trades, master of none, it's nothing impressive, just something to tide adrie and neighborhood kids over until the big party on the weekend.

still, when your big snoring man shuffles in with a bedhead halo and plaid pajama pants with one drawstring longer than the other, his raw wonder catches the husky sleep deep in his throat—"aw, baby, what're you doin'?"

you shrug, too shy to admit how early you woke up to do this, suddenly embarrassed with your effort to make a good impression on his daughter's first birthday with you in her life. he had no clue what you had planned for her real cake, and already your cheeks went hot from the lovesick shine flooding his eyes, big softy about to cry while he scratched his stomach under his shirt.

"you're too much," he says in a shake of his head. too much on a thursday morning when her party comes saturday afternoon.

his bare feet scatter the balloons creeping across the carpeted floor, blown up by him late last night until he felt faint, and ready to be popped in the energetic rush of cake for breakfast. on his way to you, he passes the one wrapped gift of a latch hook rug kit beneath the happy birthday banner you hung crooked even with his help. it was a creativity driven present to keep her busy before she got her big girl bike in two days time. training wheels most definitely included.

any second now adrie would run through the streamers you both taped to the top of her door frame, so eddie made quick work of putting the frosting aside and smothering kisses atop your head, wielding his dad strength to hug you tight to his chest, steering you into a twirl by his hold on your wrists, rocking from foot to foot until your back was crushed to his front.

tucking his chin to mash his nose to your hair, his heavy hum vibrates through your skull as he surveys the usual munson fare mingling with your new traditions, slowing your bodies to a gentle sway until his sigh empties from his lungs. "you mean everything to us, you know that?"

"i know that," you answer so softly it was lost in the bubbling hiss from the kettle before he shut off the burner. "you're everything to me, too."

"thank you, baby."

"thank you, handsome." thank you for this moment, this family, this love.

[writing-intheundercroft]

The Perfect Gift - O. Gaunt

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Word Count: 4,129

Rating: T

Summary: Ominis overhears the girls talking about some singer, and decides to write MC a song for Christmas. Sebastian can't help but be his wingman.

A/N: @darch7995 sent me a song and I had to write something fluffy and happy for Ominis! Listen to the audio HERE. Merry Christmas!

Ominis Gaunt was rarely stopped in his tracks, but once he’d heard the low warbling coming from the gramophone, he halted, holding his hands to his ears. He hated the insinuation that his blindness enhanced his other senses, but he did have impeccable hearing, and the song emitting from the sun room next to the Charms classroom had his ears ringing.

“Isn’t he just so dreamy?” Poppy sighed.

“Clarence Warbeck is my favorite singer of all time.” Leonora Everleigh declared. “I would listen to him all day if I could.”

Ominis rolled his milky blue eyes, ready to walk into the warm, sunlit room to say something snarky, until he heard her voice.

“I think he’s quite the romantic,” she said. His dear friend had a lilt in her voice towards the end of her sentence, as if she hadn’t finished her thought.  

“You mean easy on the eyes?” Leonora teased.

She let out a laugh that had Ominis shivering, stumbling behind the column to avoid them seeing him. 

“I just think music is quite lovely.” she mused. “And a song?  I think that’s the sweetest gift a person could ever give.”

Ominis bit his bottom lip as he blushed.  That was valuable information, he thought, especially with the holidays approaching.  The wheels started spinning in his mind as he imagined a song, especially one about her–

“Oh, hi Ominis!”

He blinked, turning towards the voice.  His friend had seen him, and now he had nowhere to hide.

“Hello, ladies.” Ominis said smoothly.

“Come to take a nap in the light?” Poppy said kindly.  He blushed again; clearly his napping habits were quite public knowledge at this point.  

“Come over,” his friend beckoned him closer. “We can sit on the cushions, if you’d like.”

“If you insist,” he stuttered.

Ominis awkwardly scampered over to the sound of her voice, settling down on the various plush cushions that were set on the floor.  He felt her sit down next to him, tucking her feet under herself as he splayed out on the floor.  One of the many cats that lived in the DADA tower slid against the two of them, purring.

“Comfortable?” she asked softly, the sound of the music dulled by her voice.

“Very,” Ominis hummed.  He settled onto the cushions, his head falling into her lap.  She continued her conversation with the girls as he drifted into a light sleep, the crooning of Clarence Warbeck filling the background noise.

Ominis and Sebastian sat at the Slytherin table in the great hall; with the holidays quickly approaching, most students were busy packing their trunks for the journey home. The Hogwarts Express was departing Hogsmeade station for the holidays the next morning, but per usual, Ominis and Sebastian were spending the holiday at the castle. As Professor Ronen decorated the Christmas tree, the boys sat at the table, loitering before dinner.

“And honestly, I took that quite personally.  So I don’t think I should have gotten a detention for setting Leander on fire, he was the one who was in my way…Ominis, are you paying any attention to me?” Sebastian asked, eyebrows quirked. 

Ominis rolled his unseeing eyes, waving off his best friend. “Yes, yes, something about nearly giving Leander Prewett third degree burns because he looked at you funny in potions again.” he said lazily, waving his wand again.  His eyebrows were furrowed as he waved his wand again.  His dictation quill scratched out a few words on the parchment in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian asked, narrowing his eyes at the many pages in front of his friend.

“Nothing,” Ominis said hastily, snatching his pages together before Sebastian could get his grubby hands on them. 

“Why so secretive?” Sebastian asked, clearly intrigued by the change in Ominis’s attitude.

“It’s none of your business,” Ominis sniffed. “Back off.”

From the blond’s biting tone, Sebastian knew it was in his best interests not to press.  However, his best interests were rarely ever actually on his mind.  Lurching forward, Sebastian snatched a piece of parchment from Ominis’s hands, taking glee in how the blond panicked.

“Each year I ask for many different things–”

“Sebastian stop,” Ominis panted. “It’s not funny.”

“But now I know what my heart–”

“Sebastian!” Ominis screeched, nearly ripping the parchment from his best friend’s hands. “Stop it, I’m begging you.”

“What in Merlin’s name are you writing?” Sebastian laughed, watching as his normally impenetrable friend reddened, pushing the wrinkled parchment into his bookbag. “Is that a poem?”

Ominis’s face was bright red. “It’s a song, if you want to know so bad.” he scowled.

Sebastian’s face softened. “I didn’t know you were back at the old piano again.”

It wasn’t common knowledge that Ominis was an accomplished pianist.  Mrs. Gaunt had insisted every child in the Gaunt family mastered an instrument, and he’d spent most of his childhood dreading piano lessons. Despite his initial disdain, Ominis had taken quite well to the instrument, and it became a hobby. Once he was at Hogwarts, he’d slip into the music room every now and then, practicing his rusty skills whenever he was under duress.

“It’s for a gift,” Ominis mumbled. 

“Pardon?” Sebastian asked, now grinning.  He had an idea of Ominis’s motivation, but wanted to hear the words from the boy himself.

“It is a Christmas gift,” Ominis hissed. “For her.  Are you happy, Sebastian?”

“Blissful.” Sebastian leaned into the table, tucking his chin in hand. “This is rich–you’re writing a song for a girl.” he crooned. “How sweet, Omi.  What gave you the idea?”

Ominis gave him a rude hand gesture, sparking laughter from the brunette. “I overheard her talking with Poppy and Leonora about that singer–Clarence Warbeck–and how they loved his songs.”

“Right, the prat who sings all those cheesy love songs the girls are obsessed with.” Sebastian noted. “Isn’t he doing a show in London over the holiday break?”

Ominis gave him a dry look. “Precisely.  His lyrics are…uninspired, to say the least.  And I was already thinking of what to give her for the holidays–you know she’s impossible to shop for.  The girl has every piece of clothing known to mankind, every potion, book, broom at her disposal.  I thought to myself, she deserves a song. You know, something actually personalized to her.” he said sheepishly.

“Well, I think it’s very kindhearted of you.” Sebastian said smugly. “Are you admitting it then?”

“Admitting what?” Ominis feigned indifference.

“Your crush on her.”

“Could you be any louder, Sebastian?” Ominis hissed. His hands flew to his temples as his best friend chortled next to him. “I just–”

“Just writing her a lovely, romantic song for the holidays.” Sebastian snorted. “Oh come on, I’m just teasing you.  I think it’s great; you never play the piano, so it must mean something special.”

Ominis felt his face flush; despite his disdain for Sebastian in the moment, his best friend was right.  Ominis had minimal experience with the fairer sex.  The concept of romance was lost on the Gaunts, choosing to pair their children in arranged matches to bring honor to the bloodline.  He’d never even imagined the idea of dating someone until she’d arrived at Hogwarts. Their friendship had gotten off to a rocky start, thanks to the freckled heathen sitting next to him, but the events of their fifth year had only drawn them closer to one another.  What had started as an admiration for her bravery turned into a funny twist in his stomach whenever he heard her laughing.  As of late, it had gotten so unbearable, Ominis had turned into a blushing mess whenever she sat next to him in class.  

“Speak of the devil–she’s coming in.” Sebastian murmured. “Hide your sheets, then.”

Ominis heard her footsteps draw closer and closer as he hurriedly shoved his parchment back into his school bag.  

“Hello you two,” she said sweetly, standing next to them.  Ominis could smell her perfume wafting towards him, still smelling like the sweet scent of strawberries in the dead of winter. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” both boys said in unison.

Despite his blindness, Ominis could almost sense the arch of her brow. “Alright, weirdos.”  she chuckled. “I have good and bad news.”

“Do tell,” Sebastian said.

“Good news, Leonora’s mother surprised us with tickets to Clarence Warbeck’s show in London!” she said gleefully.  “I was going to stay in the castle for the holidays, but Leonora’s parents decided to surprise her early so she could bring friends, and she invited me to join!”

“O-oh.” Ominis said, feeling his heart crack in half. “So you’ll be gone, then?”

“Yes, well that’s the bad news, you see. I know it’s such late notice, but I hope the two of you won’t be cross with me,” she said wistfully. “It’s just such a good opportunity, and I’ve never been to a real show before–”

“Of course we’re not mad,” Ominis interjected. “If it makes you happy, we’ll be happy for you.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you understand,” she sighed in relief. “I am going to miss you over the holidays, I hope you know that.”

Ominis pursed his lips. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sebastian chuckled. “I’m positively bereft you’re leaving us.”

Despite his inner turmoil, Ominis knew she was excited for the opportunity to visit London.  It was silly of him to write the song, he thought; he was no great wordsmith, nor half the performer that Clarence Warbeck was.  He felt a pit of jealousy in his stomach as he pictured her singing and cheering for him in a crowd, waiting for his autograph at the side door to the theater–

He was broken out of his thoughts at the feeling of her kissing his cheek.  

“Don’t miss me too much, Ominis.” she said kindly. 

“I’ll be counting down the days until you’re back,” he said softly. Realizing just how lovesick he sounded, he quickly covered with a cough. “Can’t forgive you for leaving me with this one,” he elbowed Sebastian, who yelped in return.

She gave a sparkling laugh, which brought warmth to his cheeks once more. “I’ll try to see you before I leave tomorrow.” she promised, her voice getting further and further away as he heard her walk towards the door. 

The boys were silent until they heard the door properly shut.

“Lots of talk, use of the word we,” Sebastian noted. “When you’re the one supposedly preparing a love song for her.”

“Shove off,” Ominis mumbled. “I knew it was a stupid idea.”

“Don’t say that,” Sebastian assured him. “You can give it to her when she’s back.”

Ominis knew he was right, but he was rather hoping to give her his song over the holidays.  He’d already spent so much time planning his confession, and her leaving for the holiday was a major setback.  Ominis wasn’t sure he could muster up the confidence to play his music for her again, let alone with a castle full of other students who might walk in on them.

“Whatever,” Ominis sighed. 

It had been a few days since the train had departed for London, taking her to London and far, far away from Hogwarts for the holidays.  Ominis had since retreated to the music room nearly every night, wishing to be alone. It was late, and Ominis was seated at the piano again.  His long, lithe fingers softly danced across the keys, playing the tune he’d written for her song.  Under his breath, he mumbled the lyrics; deep down, he didn’t really want to be alone, but she had been the only company he’d desired. He imagined her, standing at the Clarence Warbeck show, swaying to the lame lyrics with her girlfriends, and it made his piano strokes a bit heavier and angrier than he’d wanted them to be.

He was so lost in thought, he hardly noticed the sound of skittering feet approaching the music room.  It wasn’t until the door burst open that he stumbled over the keys, lifting his wand to identify the intruder.

“Sebastian?  What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” Ominis barked.

“She’s–Ominis, they–show got canceled–she’s here,” Sebastian rambled, panting for air.

“What are you even talking about?”

Sebastian took a big gulp of air. “The Clarence Warbeck show got canceled,” he breathed. “She caught the train back to Hogsmeade instead.”

Ominis blinked at his best friend. “She’s here?” he said, voice strained.

“Do you have your song written?” Sebastian demanded.

“Er, yes–I was just finishing the melody.” Ominis admitted.

“That settles it–you have a song to deliver then, Ominis.” Sebastian said proudly. “I can grab her, if you like–”

“Are you insane?” Ominis gaped. “It’s not–I’m not ready!” he panicked. 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “There’s a piano, you have your lyrics, what aren’t you ready for?” he asked.

Ominis began wringing his hands. “But it has to be romantic,” he wheezed. “And this isn’t romantic at all.  For Merlin’s sake, I’m wearing pajamas!”

Sebastian was quiet for a few moments; Ominis could tell the cogs were moving in his best friend’s head. The brunette snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it!” he said gleefully. “The perfect idea.”  He could hear Sebastian’s boots scuffling around him, muttering under his breath.

“What are you doing?” Ominis asked curiously.

“Candles.” Sebastian said simply, muttering a conjuration charm. “You’ll need a lot of candles, girls love them.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you know that,” Ominis scowled, standing up and raising his wand.  He could sense Sebastian conjuring dozens candles, setting them around the piano. 

“And you–you should change into something a little nicer.” Sebastian tutted. “Not that your pajamas aren’t cute and all, but you’ll want to look your best.”

“I know that,” Ominis rolled his eyes.  However, he couldn’t contain the flutter of excitement in his stomach. “Are you suggesting I change now?”

“Run down to the dungeons, I’ll take care of the room.” Sebastian assured him. “Ambiance, by Sebastian Sallow.” he joked.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Ominis said earnestly.

“Get fewer girls, that’s for sure.” The brunette snorted.

“Don’t start.” Ominis warned him, backing up towards the door.

“Is that any way to treat your personal elf?” He didn’t need sight to know there was a smug grin stretched across Sebastian’s face. “Go on, get prettied up.  I’ll be here, getting everything prepared.”

“I know you can’t see yourself, but you look quite dashing.” Sebastian hummed.  He adjusted Ominis’s tie, the blonde slapping his hands away in return.  “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Ominis lied.  “What’s to be nervous about?”

“I dunno–the fact that it’s nearly midnight and you’re about to host your first solo concert to the girl you’re in love with.” Sebastian hummed. “I know I had some mistletoe around here somewhere…”

“Hello?” A feminine voice called out. “Is anyone there?”

Ominis slapped Sebastian’s arm. “She’s here!” He hissed. “Get out!”

Sebastian yelped in response; Ominis straightened his waistcoat as he heard his best friend stumble across the music room, his boots clacking against the stairs.  

“Ominis, are you in there?” Her voice sounded nearer, about to turn the corner into the room.

He gulped, twirling his wand rather anxiously at his side. “I am,” he choked out.  “Do come in.”

He could hear her delicate footsteps as she walked into the music room; first quickly, and then stopping in her tracks.  It felt like eons before her feet picked up again, taking slow deliberate steps towards him in the corner, next to the piano.

“Sebastian sent me an owl, saying it was rather time-sensitive.” she said hesitantly. “That it was an emergency.”

“That twat,” Ominis grumbled. “It’s not an emergency, per say, but I did want you to meet me here.”

“So no one is dying, gravely wounded, or in need of protection?”

“Did he say that was the issue?” Ominis choked.

She snorted. “Rather implied it was a life or death matter.”

Ominis scolded Sebastian in his head, rolling his eyes.  He’d have to set him straight later on.

“I wanted to ask you to come meet me here,” Ominis chewed on his lower lip. “Because I knew you were quite disappointed when the Clarence Warbeck show was canceled.”

“Oh, right.” she said quickly. “Yeah, Leonora was a bit upset over it, and I didn’t really have any other reason to be in London, so I caught the train home.”

“Well, with that being the case, I thought this was a good time to give you your Christmas present.” Ominis swallowed thickly. 

“Omi, I thought we weren’t doing presents,” she said, her voice slightly panicked. “I haven’t gotten you anything–”

“This,” Ominis interjected, pointing his wand towards the piano. “This is the present.”

She paused, clearly confused. “The piano?  The one that’s always here in the music room? I mean, thanks Ominis, but I doubt we can steal the school piano–”

“No,” Ominis groaned. He tugged her hand towards the bench, gesturing for her to sit next to him. “This is the present. Me–er, rather, a song for you.”

There was a pregnant pause as she slowly slid into the bench next to him.  Her shoulder bumped into his, and he could feel the ends of her braid tickling his skin.  They’d never sat so closely before–not under the pretense of anything other than a friendly afternoon nap in the corridor. 

“You wrote a song for me?” she asked, her voice suddenly small and subdued. “Ominis, I didn’t even know that you could play the piano.”

Ominis set his wand down on the piano’s ledge with shaky hands. “I did–I do play the piano.  I learned when I was younger,” he admitted, his fingers finding the ivory keys. “I’m actually quite good, if I do say so myself.  Sebastian tells me I am too.”

“You’ve played for Sebastian, but not me?” she scoffed, a playful tone returning to her voice. 

Ominis began playing the tune he’d written, the one he’d memorized in a matter of days just for her. “I only share this with people I love,” he said softly.  Realizing what he’d just said, he coughed quickly to cover his blunder. “Like my friends.  Anne, Sebastian, and now you.”

She rested her chin on Ominis’s shoulder. “Well, go on then.  Let me hear it.”

“And you won’t make fun of me if I’m a lousy singer?” Ominis asked, feeling the back of his neck heating up.

“I would never,” she reassured him.

Ominis began singing; he could hear her breath catch as his voice echoed in the room.  The words tumbled out of his mouth as his fingers danced across the keys.  Despite not having his wand in hand, he started to feel more confident as his tune went on, his voice only cracking slightly when he felt her soft hand on his leg.  

So just please fall in love with me, this Christmas

There’s nothing else that I would need, this Christmas

Won’t be wrapped under a tree, I wish that this would last forever,

So kiss me on this cold December night;

They call it the season of giving; I’m here, yours for the taking

I’m here, I’m yours

The notes trailed off, Ominis’s fingers lifting from the keys.  He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands; in his nervousness, he clenched his fists in his lap.

“I tried to copy Warbeck’s style,” he gulped. “Since you like him so much.  I overheard you talking with the girls last week, that you thought a song was the sweetest gift a person could give.”

“You listened to me,” she murmured.

Ominis squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to articulate his feelings. “I…I’m always listening to you.  I want to make you happy.” he wrung his hands together.

“Ominis, this is…the song…” she trailed off.

“Do you hate it?” he asked nervously. 

She threw her arms around him; he yelped as she squeezed him tight.

“How could one hate a song so beautiful? This is my favorite Christmas gift I’ve ever received, the most perfect gift.” she gasped. “No one has ever written me a song before.”

Ominis sighed in relief, blushing as he found the courage to wrap his arms around her waist, hugging her in return. “I’m glad you liked it.” he murmured into her shoulder.

She pulled away, pressing her small, warm hands against his cheeks. “Liked it?  Ominis, I loved it!” she exclaimed.  “I never knew you had such talent.  You need to play more often for me.”

Ominis smiled as he pressed her forehead against hers. “Well, now that you know, I’d be happy to play for you whenever you’d like.”

Her warm hands left his cheeks, falling to hold his hands.  There was a brief pause; he could tell she was chewing on her lower lip.

“The lyrics,” she murmured. “You…you mean them, right?  They’re not just lyrics?”

Ominis took in a sharp breath as her fingers entwined with his. “Well, Mr. Warbeck is quite forward with his feelings in all of his songs, so I thought I should do the same.” he whispered. “I wanted it to be romantic, and all I could think of wanting this Christmas was you.” he confessed.

“I thought so,” she mused. “So you would like me to kiss you?”

Ominis blinked rapidly, his cheeks burning hot. “Only if–” he started to say, quickly cut off by her lips pressing against his. 

She smiled against his lips, and Ominis melted into her touch.  His hands cradled her face while she held onto his forearms, keeping him close.  He whined softly as she pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“Only what?” she asked.

“If you mean it, truly.” Ominis fought the smile that tugged on the corner of his lips. “I hope you do. Or I guess in this case, did.”

She laughed; the melodic sound of her giggles rivaled even the sweetest of songs. Her chin dropped to his shoulder again, and she nuzzled closer. 

“You didn’t need to write a song to capture my heart, Ominis.” she breathed. “It’s been yours for a while now.”

Ominis went slack jawed. “What?”

“Why do you think I caught the first train back to Hogwarts?” she nudged him with her nose. “I wanted to be back here, to spend Christmas with you, Ominis.”  

“But the show–Clarence Warbeck–”

“He’s a good singer,” she laughed. “But he’s not you.” 

Ominis surged forward, and she yelped when he pressed his lips against her face, slightly missing her lips.  No matter; she chuckled again, angling her face to meet him perfectly.  One of Ominis’s hands tugged her closer at the waist, the other trailing up to her soft, strawberry scented hair.  

“I love you,” he admitted, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.

Just as she was about to open her mouth in response, the two heard a cough from the rafters.  They jolted apart, Ominis nearly falling off the bench to maintain a proper distance from her in case it was a professor.

It wasn’t–he could hear a familiar voice huffing at them.

“Can I come down now?”

Ominis furrowed his eyebrows. “Sebastian, what the bloody hell are you still doing here?” he gasped.

“Well you didn’t give me much time to get down from the rafters,” Sebastian complained. “I was trying to hang the mistletoe for you two.”

“Get out!” Ominis groaned, while she laughed next to him on the piano bench.

Ominis could hear Sebastian’s snickering, and the familiar beat of his steps as he ran out of the music room.  He groaned, his head falling against her shoulder.

“So embarrassing.” he muttered into the fabric of her shirt. “I can’t believe he heard the song.”

“Not at all,” she cooed. “Wouldn’t quite be a moment between us without Sebastian interrupting, would it?” she pressed a soft kiss against his hair. “Play the song for me again?”

“Only if I get to kiss you more.” Ominis whispered.

“That can be arranged,” she said coyly, tilting his chin up towards her. She adoringly pressed kisses against his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and then finally his lips again.  Pulling away, she leaned her head on his shoulder once more, sighing happily as his fingers started dancing across the keys again. 

“Happy Christmas, Ominis.  I love you too.”

Those four words were music to Ominis’s ears.  He played the song for her over and over again, his voice more confident every time he repeated the lyrics. The fourth time he repeated, she stopped him, kissing him breathless.  

“Saw the mistletoe,” she whispered against his lips, slithering her arms around his waist. “He managed to hang it after all.”

Grinning into her kiss once more, Ominis reminded himself to thank Sebastian. 

[oddballwriter]

The Second

Summary: After going on an unplanned adventure with your best friend and crush, his host, and his host's wife to stop the end of the world, and ending up in an accidental love triangle... square...whatever shape it is, you go back to your hometown to clear your mind. It's a great success for you, helping you reconnect with your childhood friend and even bring him back to continue the fun and show him your life in London. But unbeknownst to you, it seems like it might just cause a rift that is born on one side of the triangle.

Warnings: Love triangle and unrequited feelings. The reader is referred to using she/her. Angst, it's soft but it's there. Third-wheeling. I can't think of anything else but I feel like there's more, if there is just tell me. 

Author’s Snip: This is sort of a pilot for a series idea that I have that involves all kinds of love shape situations, rivalry, and dragging friends into all kinds of avatar shenanigans on accident. So if you guys like this, let me know so that I can prep and have it ready for writing and planning.

Notes: This is not proofread before posting, if there are errors blame Grammarly for not catching it. I might fix them later.  

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 2,892

Tag List: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

What an adventure you just went on. It all feels so unreal when you even try and think about it. Even as you stare up at the ceiling above your bed you find it hard to really digest fully.

Your good friend Steven turned out to be an alter for a person with DID who's named Marc Spector, whom you had not met, ever, throughout you and Steven's close friendship. In which Marc is the avatar and fist of justice for the Egyptian god Khonshu and was living his life while Steven was not fronting, unbeknownst to Steven, and has been playing a game of keep-away with a cult and their leader for a scarab. And you ended up finding all that out when some members of the cult kidnapped you to intimidate Steven and Marc. By the way, Marc is married and has been married, to a woman named Layla. And so you had to go on this whole adventure with all three of them to stop the end of the world, or something, nearly dying on several occasions, and now it's done apparently. Crisis averted. Also, there is a fucking third one.

You're sure that if you told someone outside of your journal and your new group of friends about this, then you would be thrown into a psychiatric hospital in record time.

And that isn't even mentioning all the complicated feelings you're having right now about the love triangle, that only you are aware of. Because of course, you're in a love triangle that the two other people have no idea exists. It's complicated. It was a little complicated at the start, and now it's so much more complicated because now there's another person involved.

Scratch that, four people involved. This is a love square.

Fuck it, now that Jake's here it might actually be a love pentagon now!

Either way, it all has to do with your feelings towards Steven. You had developed them pretty early on in your friendship with Steven because you just so happened to fall into your type. Dork, sweet, funny, and polite guys were your weakness. You tried to fight them off, not wanting to ruin the friendship that you honestly valued with Steven. But he just had this aura and energy that had your heart like a moth to a flame. Some might call it a slow burn. You'd say that it all was fast. But the warmth went to heat that got painful when you found out about Marc and Layla, and thus Steven and Layla.

You're not mad at Layla. Of course not! Why would you? She was there first, technically. It feels bad to say that. Both because you'd have to try and snuff out the feelings that you have, but also because it sounds wrong. It sounds like Steven's an object to be won instead of a person with his own thoughts and feelings. And you never once saw him like that. He was Steven. Nice, sweet, funny Steven.

You knew you needed to move on, even if it hurt. You know you don't have the guts and nerve to be 'the other person' even if you got the chance to be. It would be disrespectful to Layla, and Layla's a great woman. You settle on going back home, to your hometown, to see family and friends in hopes that it'll distract you, maybe even help you get over it if you're lucky. You call up your family who gladly accept the idea and will set up the room that you'll stay in by the time you get there. With that, you pack your bags, get ready for the trip, and head off.

You don't tell Steven that you're leaving to anywhere at first until you're just about to leave, figuring that if he tries to visit you and you're not there he'll assume someone else has kidnapped you and panic. You just send him a simple "As a heads up I'll be out of town for a while. I need a break.", at some point in your trip heading towards your hometown he texts you back with a single "Okay. Sounds nice.".

As it turns out, going around old loved ones really does help your blues. Matter of fact it seems like everyone from your life here heard the news that you'd be spending a few weeks in town and all got together to see you. Your uncle and dad actually threw a little family cookout so that everyone can come say hi to you.

Everyone had questions for you. What's London like? What have you been doing? How's life going over there?

Of course, you can't tell them about all the recent events and you also don't want to ruin your good mood by talking about Steven like you probably would have if this were a trip not spawned from him, in a sense. Overall, everyone's just happy you're back regardless.

You meet a really old face amidst the crowd of family and friends who've assembled. Samson. Sammy. God, you'd know his face anywhere and you know he'd know yours too. You and Sammy have been best friends since diapers. Your moms were friends. Apparently, the story goes that your mom and dad were at the courthouse waiting in line to sign the marriage papers and so were Sammy's mom and dad. Your mothers started talking and it turns out they have a lot in common. By the time both parties left the courthouse, they were in each other's weddings, to which they then found out that they both would be moving into the same area to settle down. Your moms swear that you and Sammy being close in age was just a coincidence but you always joked that it wasn't.

Sammy is hard to put into words. How do you describe the person who's been your best friend since both of you were coloring with crayons and all the way to high school graduations and beyond? The number one person you would talk to about things outside of your parents and through all of the other friends you've both had throughout your lives, the one that has always been the same. Sammy is just Sammy to you, in the most sincere way possible.

After seeing each other at the cookout you catch up on just about everything. What you've been up to, any life milestones you've gotten to while apart. You tell him about London and he tells you about his life here in town. Sammy's gotten up to a few things, had a few girlfriends, and apparently, he's developed his own business. Turns out he's a handyman and locksmith now and makes great money. Gets to make his own hours, so he says. Sammy teases you a bit and asks if you've been collecting British boyfriends. You know it's just a tease but it plucks at the still tender parts of your heart a little. You brush it off and say no.

"No?" Sammy questions, "Come on. Someone like you over there? You're kidding me. You've got to have some guys waiting like a dog for you to come back." he says. You decide to play along in the banter.

"Maybe I do. What of it, Sam-I-Am." you shrug, pretending like he's trying to compete and also pulling out old childhood nicknames. Sammy cringes and the nickname, "Oof, not the Sam-I-Am from kindergarten. You know only my dad called me that until you said it in class. Then everyone started calling me that till fifth grade." Sammy laughs. "Not you doing your shitty British accents when I said I had a thing for British boys back in seventh grade." you reference and make a call back of your own. "It made you laugh and that was my goal." Sammy playfully defended.

For a good half of your stay, Sammy was there, like always, and you would be talking about the old days. Referencing various moments and laughing or cringing together. It felt so nostalgic and good to just feel that bond again, have someone who knows all your little inside jokes and references because they were there when it was formed, and you both didn't want it to stop.

So when the day that you were to go back to London you threw out the idea that Sammy come back with you and continue the fun there. Show him what you've been doing and show him the little life you've created there.

Even though you live in a one-bedroom apartment you managed to accommodate your guest pretty well. You always knew that the pull-out bed extension of your couch that you bought second-hand would have a use someday. You two settled on rules and bases, along with where various things are in case they're needed.

After that, it was just more talking that made the time go by so fast and other things seem so minuscule. You hadn't really paid attention to the fact that you had a brief text conversation with Steven when you got back basically just telling him that you were back and what you're up to right now. It wasn't until he texted you something that sort of snapped you out of it.

You: I'm not really doing anything but my friend came back with me and will be here for a bit.

Steven: Oh that's nice

Steven: Can I meet them maybe?

You weren't sure how long you spent looking at that message, but it was long enough that Sammy noticed. "Something wrong?" he asks. "No," you reply, "Just one of my friends. He says he wants to meet you... if you're okay with that," you explain but hesitate slightly at the end, not really liking the sound of having Steven over right now after being able to get him off your mind. "Sure! I'd love to meet one of your friends here." Sammy responds, "If that's alright with you of course." he adds.

You take a second to weigh it out in your mind. On one hand, having the guy that you have feelings for over after you went on a whole vacation partially because he doesn't feel that way towards you doesn't sound like the best idea. But maybe having Sammy here will reduce that feeling of awkwardness since it can just be having your friends meet each other.

Taking the gamble, you tell Steven that he's good to come over.

The next few minutes are spent continuing to talk to Sammy, making jokes and having banter. When you hear the knock at your door you and a text from Steven that announces that he's arrived. You get up from the couch and make your way to the door, unlocking it and opening it up. And there he is, smiling at you and giving you his usual polite little "hello". You greet him back before stepping out of the way so that he can come in.

Sammy gets up from his seat on the couch and comes to shake Steven's hand. You see Steven hesitate briefly and sort of freeze up before taking the hand shake. You step in between them.

"Steven, this is my childhood friend, Samson. Samson, this is my friend Steven." you introduce them to each other and gesture to them respectively. "Nice to meet you!" Sammy comments. "Likewise," Steven responds.

You all take a seat, you and Sammy back on the couch while Steven takes a chair from your little dining table set. Sammy and Steven have some good small talk back and forth, talking the usual stuff when you meet new people. You can see Steven being a little fidgety, picking at his sweater sleeve, nodding along but having a small crease between his brows. All things that he does when he's nervous or concerned with something, you take it as Steven being shy about meeting and talking to new people like he usually is. You take it upon yourself to sort of help him by bringing up subjects that you know he's good at talking about.

"Steven loves Ancient Egypt and mythos. He knows pretty much everything," you mention. Sammy raises his brows in interest, "Really?" he questions. "Oh yeah," Steven confirms, "I would have made a bloody good tour guide if my superior wasn't out to get me." Steven remarks. You see Sammy hold back a laugh in the corner of your vision, you turn to him and light-heartedly scold him with a "Stop it.". Sammy looks towards you, his smile growing to a shit-eating grin. "Stop it," you repeat, "Behave. I told you not to laugh," you say as you struggle to keep your own laughter in. "He said the thing." Sammy squeaks out before letting a few laughs leave him. You lean in and bap him on the shoulder playfully, "Stop," you warn as you give him a few baps.

Steven lets out a small laugh that only you can tell is his fake trying-to-pretend-I-get-it laugh. "I'm sorry, Steven." you apologize, "Not even 24 hours in and he doesn't know how to act," you say as you look back to Sammy and give him a playful shake. "I'm sorry." Sammy says to Steven, "There's an inside joke to it I swear." he says.

"What's the joke?" Steven inquires. Your face drops, knowing what Sammy is going to say. "Don't you dare," you warn Sammy as you try to cover his mouth, but Sammy already knew that you are going to stop him and is ready to block your hand. You both spend a few seconds lightly wrestling as you try to cover his mouth and he blocks you in some way. "It has something to do with her-" Sammy says before you interrupt him with a "No!" in objection, "British boyfriend!" Sammy announces. "I don't have a British boyfriend!" you object through laughs as you hit him with a couch pillow. You both spend a few moments laughing. When you finally calm down you find Steven looking at the two of you like you've grown and extra head.

You sigh and look to Sammy, "Why don't you explain 'British boyfriend' to him since you want to talk about it so much?". "Okay, okay," Sammy submits. "This one," Sammy says pointing at you, "Had a thing for this one kid who was visiting family for the summer in our home neighborhood back in seventh grade, or seventh year, whatever it's called here. And so we have this joke that he was her British boyfriend. And I used to do a really bad accent to make her laugh and get all embarrassed.", Sammy looks at you and reassures, "I'm not going to do it, don't worry.".

The conversation goes on but you and Sammy can't help but say more jokes that you then need to explain to Steven, which leads to other stories and laughing fits between the two of you. You try to do the same with Steven in case he references something between the two of you, but you find that Steven just seems to sit there and listen, nodding along. You want to try and prompt something but at some point, you're able to sense this weird tension in the air whenever you do.

You aren't too sure what to do. You don't want to shoo Steven out since you've always said that Steven was always welcomed at your place, but the atmosphere is strange between the two of you for some reason. It isn't until Sammy gives something that would get the job done.

"You know, it's really nice to meet you, Steven. But I think the traveling is starting to catch up with me." Sammy says as he stretches his arms out. "Oh, no worry. I was actually thinking of getting out of your hair. You know..." Steven responds, "Since you guys probably had to get out early to get back here." he clarifies. Steven was already getting up to leave by the time he even started talking.

Sammy and you get up also, and you go in for the usual goodbye hug that you and Steven do when parting ways, Sammy shakes Steven's hand again and says his goodbyes.

Once Steven leaves, you and Sammy set up the couch so that Sammy can nap for a bit. You head to your room so that you can take one for yourself and reflect on the meeting. You still have a bit of that feeling of weird tension but figure that maybe Steven wasn't prepared for all the energy that you and Sammy created and all the inside jokes. Maybe a second get-together could help with that. After all, it might be great to have two best friends also be best friends with each other.

Meanwhile, Steven walks back, sitting in his thoughts quietly as he walks until Marc appears in a reflection along the walk. "What's with the long face?" Marc asks. Steven glances at Marc for a moment, "Nothing, it's just that..." Steven opens up with, "I felt like a bit of a third wheel over there." he admits. Marc shrugs, "Well it is her friend from her hometown, isn't it? I'm sure they'd be all chatty with each other.".

"Yeah, I suppose so." Steven replies, "It just felt a bit... off." Steven remarks.

[tomomiisasleep]

notes on Ianthe

just casually re-reading GtN Ianthe moments

here she kinda bested Palamedes and Harrow in picking out information out of bone fragments, which is very impressive considering the specialities of the 69 necros.

it seems that when it comes to necromantic "theory", she really is the best of the generation, this deduced from her grand feat of figuring out the Eightfold all on her own.

here Babs kinda jabs at her for being jealous of Corona's ability to gain attention. hmm. I have mixed feelings about this. I mean Babs knows her pretty well and I would believe that she actually does care about whether or not she could show off, which is ugggghhhhhh PAIN I don't wanna think about the fact that it may have hurt her entire life to co-exist with Corona and let her draw in all the attention but she does it anyway because Corona is the only person that really loves her and knows her, aaaaaaa and she started at six. SIX. WHAT does that mean. Did she even give it much thought at first? or were they still in the same twin us vs. world mindset at the time?

anyways I always thought that their layered relationship is delicious(in a bad way but in a good bad way)

1. Ianthe seems to be only good at theorems while Corona is the perfect heir, thus Corona holds power over Ianthe.

2. Corona is not actually a necro and depends entirely on Ianthe to put on the act, thus Ianthe holds power over Corona.

3. Corona is the main and often sole source of recognition Ianthe receives, likely causing her to value Corona more and others less over time, thus Corona holds power over Ianthe. (This may be the reason Tamsyn deems Corona the "worse" because she is skilled in manipulation, not necessary with malign intent)

4.(Not entirely sure about this but probably) Giving Corona power is Ianthe's "goal" in life(I've seen this in other posts) which she deems highest priority and worth any cost(as expressed in The Unwanted Guest). She may measure her self-worth by Corona's success, which like, means that their relationship is not "one controls the other" but "-I need you. -I need you."

BUT! That last one depends on which of them decides on what "Corona's success" entails. The one who has the final say in what their goal is, is the twin who controls the other. And. There are a few pieces of evidence I've gathered that Corona is in charge. HOWEVER there is the evidence that Corona wants Ianthe to eat her. and she refused. ugh maybe they'd be better off becoming a merged soul. Maybe that's the real reason Pal bested her in The Unwanted Guest. She is overtaken by regret that they missed the chance to become one. Now they'd never be truly the two of them together, because even if they merge there'd always be Babs in there third-wheeling

but I understand that despite all that, Ianthe does want to be recognized outside of being "one of the twins". It's natural. and she does have a very hard to ignore crush on Harrow.

And maybe I'll scratch all the stuff above later when I read their interactions(plus the Corona side-story! I've been saving that for when I get mental from alectopause) because I'm just speaking from memory and memory deceives.

ok I'll shut up about Tridentarii stuff now, what I actually wanted to say that Ianthe gives off different vibes in GtN and HtN. In GtN she's just this huge evil nerd, and in HtN she's gross-hot sexy-bitch. And it's funny how different she is from Gideon's and Harrow's pov, like all the fanfic I read in which she parties a lot and plays with girls a lot are all mostly drawing from Harrow's pov, and Harrow is a repressed nun who has only ever met 1 girl her age in her life and has a bone fetish(especially for Ianthe) and is obsessed with her scent. Though I enjoy reading all fan-interpretations of her, I think her canon lifestyle might actually be closer to how Gideon sees her(in GtN. in NtN they become bros which I love btw tower princes 4ever), which is wall-flowering in the corners and reading trashy romance novels while Corona deals with the socializing.(I kinda believe that people can be categoriesed into "reads about dating" and "dates" and Ianthe belongs to the first because she gets excited over a sexy makeover

she also spends a horrifying amount of time studying (because she's as good with theory as Pal who "made his life into a war" for Dulcie, and Harrow who studies with the weight of 200 dead kids on her consciousness.

ok Ianthe's such a hot nerd I'm gonna faint I have become obsessed with her aaaaaaaaa she's like everything that drives me crazy in a hot tall glass of skank(a skank for knowledge

[realityjoey]

‘FRIENDLY’ DINNER (RILEY ANDERSON MC x EVAN BUCKLEY)

Evan “Buck” Buckley stared down at his phone, reading the text from Maddie for the third time that evening.

MADS: Dinner tonight? Just you, me, Chim, and Jee-Yun. Should be fun!

Normally, he’d jump at the chance to spend time with his sister and Chimney, but tonight? The idea of third-wheeling wasn’t all that appealing, especially when he could picture Chim and Maddie being all couple-y, with Jee-Yun stealing everyone’s attention in the best way possible. Buck loved them all to pieces, but he didn’t really want to spend the whole evening feeling like an outsider.

Then, the perfect idea struck him. His fingers moved quickly, sending a text to Riley Anderson—his “best friend” at work, or so he called her. Riley had been part of the 118 for a year now, and during that time, Buck had developed a serious crush on her. In every possible way, he was obsessed with her. From her laugh to her wit to the way she looked in her turnout gear… everything about Riley got under his skin. He flirted with her constantly, though Riley was better at hiding her own feelings. If she felt the same way, she never let it slip.

Buck, however, was an open book.

A few moments later, his phone buzzed with Riley’s response.

RI: Sure, Buck. Why not? Could be fun. See you at 7?

Buck couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread across his face as he replied. 7 it is.

Later that evening, Buck and Riley pulled up outside Maddie and Chimney’s house. Buck had picked Riley up, mainly to have more time with her but also because it felt right to arrive together. As they walked toward the door, he couldn’t help but glance over at her. Riley looked gorgeous, even in something as simple as jeans and a casual sweater. The slight breeze blew her hair back, and her natural beauty, paired with that ever-present British accent, was enough to make Buck’s stomach flip.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Buck said, trying to sound casual as he opened the door for her. “I didn’t really want to third-wheel.”

Riley smirked. “Don’t worry, mate. I’ll keep you company.”

Buck’s grin widened. Keep me company? More like drive me crazy, he thought, though he’d never say it out loud.

Inside, Maddie greeted them with a knowing smile, her eyes flicking between Buck and Riley. “Hey! Glad you both could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Riley said, stepping in to hug Maddie before greeting Chimney. “Thanks for having me.”

As they settled into dinner, conversation flowed easily, with Maddie and Chimney telling stories about Jee-Yun and work. Buck and Riley exchanged their usual banter, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Maddie’s eyes kept darting between the two of them with a little too much interest.

“So, Riley,” Maddie began as they were finishing up their meal, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, “I feel like we don’t know that much about you. I mean, aside from what Buck’s told us.”

Riley raised an eyebrow, glancing at Buck. “Oh yeah? And what’s Buck been telling you?”

Buck shifted in his seat, trying to play it cool. “You know… the usual. How great you are at the job, how you’ve fit in perfectly with the team…”

“Uh-huh,” Riley replied, clearly amused. “Nothing else?”

Maddie smiled, but there was a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “Come on, Buck, you talk about her all the time. Don’t be shy.”

Buck chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “I guess I do.”

Chimney, sensing something, jumped in with a grin. “Oh, you definitely do. It’s always ‘Riley this’ and ‘Riley that.’ We’ve all heard it.”

Riley’s cheeks flushed slightly, though she played it off well. “Guess I’ve made an impression, then.”

Maddie, always the observer, leaned in a bit closer, her voice lowering just enough to be playful but probing. “So, Riley, what brought you all the way from England to sunny LA? Was it just the job, or something else?”

Riley took a sip of her drink, her gaze flicking briefly to Buck before she answered. “It was the job, mostly. I wanted a change of pace, and firefighting in LA sounded like the perfect challenge. Plus, you know, the weather’s not bad compared to home.”

Maddie nodded thoughtfully, still watching the dynamic between Riley and Buck. “And how are you finding the team? Fitting in okay?”

“More than okay,” Riley said, smiling. “The 118 feels like home now. Everyone’s been great.”

As the conversation carried on, Buck could feel Maddie’s eyes on him, though he did his best to focus on Riley. The way she navigated Maddie’s questions so smoothly, the way she hid her emotions behind that easygoing attitude—it made Buck admire her even more.

Once dinner was over and they’d cleared the plates, Maddie motioned for Buck to join her in the kitchen, under the pretense of helping with the dishes.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Maddie began, her voice low as they stood by the sink.

“Sure,” Buck said, though he had a feeling where this was going.

Maddie dried her hands, then turned to face him, her expression soft but serious. “What’s going on with you and Riley?”

Buck froze, caught off guard by her directness. “What do you mean?”

Maddie gave him a knowing look. “Come on, Buck. I see the way you look at her. You’re practically obsessed with her. And she’s here tonight because you invited her, not just as your ‘best friend.’ You’ve got feelings for her.”

Buck hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck again, a nervous habit he hadn’t shaken. “I don’t know, Maddie. I mean… yeah, I like her. A lot. But she’s my coworker, and it’s complicated. I don’t even know if she feels the same way.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, she feels something. Trust me, I’ve seen the way she looks at you, too. She’s just better at hiding it.”

Buck let out a sigh, leaning against the counter. “I can’t stop thinking about her, Maddie. I’m obsessed with everything—her accent, her smile, the way she handles everything at work. But I’m also terrified of screwing it up.”

Maddie’s expression softened as she placed a hand on his arm. “Buck, you’ve got to stop overthinking it. If you really like her, you need to talk to her. Don’t let fear keep you from something that could be great.”

Buck swallowed, her words sinking in. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

Maddie smiled, giving him a gentle nudge. “Of course, I’m right. I’m your big sister. Now, go enjoy the rest of the night with her, okay?”

Buck nodded, feeling the weight of his feelings settle more comfortably on his shoulders. Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind the banter and actually face how he felt about Riley. Tonight, though, he’d keep it light, but maybe—just maybe—he’d find a moment to let her know the truth.

As he returned to the living room, Riley caught his eye and smiled. Buck felt his heart skip a beat. Yeah, he was definitely obsessed with her, and maybe it was time to stop hiding it.

[thedeviltohisangel]

For the Curl Fanclub, I suggest the soft, early morning love idea of gently fixing their hair once they finally sit up. Do with that what you will ❤️

SWEET, EARLY MORNING LOVE BLURB PROMPT ERA

honeymoon era john & cass that gets completely overrun by the arrival of BUTTER

The sound of ocean waves crashing onto the white, sandy beaches of the Zanzibar coast were the first thing she heard in the morning. The sounds of her husband snoring in her ear were the second. Third were the soft snores of the puppy that was curled up under her chin. She could not have been happier.

The puppy in question stretched his entire little body, his eyes opening and landing on Cass, his tail thumping against the bed in pure glee.

"Hi, baby. Did you sleep well on your first night away from that horrible cage?" The puppy burrowed his way back under her chin as an answer, Cass melting around him protectively. "You never have to go back there ever again."

"Cass...go back to sleep." John curled around her tighter and pressed a kiss to the back of her hair.

"I can't. The puppy's awake. And more importantly, the puppy needs a name." She sat up and the precious bundle in question licked at her chin with love. It was not at all how John Egan had pictured his honeymoon. He had pictured sex on the beach and endless liquor and dancing with his wife at the coconut shack down the beach from sunrise to sunset. But he should have known his best laid plans were meant to be disrupted. And he had known as soon as Cass had held that little puppy and locked eyes with him and felt a connection that he wasn't going to leave the safari without him.

"We can name him whatever you want to." John rested his cheek on her shoulder and scratched the hound behind his ears. "Do I get a good morning kiss or are those reserved for him now too?"

"Good morning, my handsome husband," she teased as she leaned down to meet his puckered lips. "You'll always get good morning kisses from me. And him." She held the puppy closer to John, his little tongue licking his nose because he knew it was what his mother wanted.

"This little one is smooth like butter. I'll give him that." The puppy yelped and looked back at Cass.

"I think he likes it, Johnny. Butter. Butter Egan. Our first baby." Both arms went around him as she hugged him close and kissed the top of his head over and over again.

"We got time for making some babies even with our new addition?" John sat up straighter and wiggled his eyebrows at his wife.

"With that gorgeous bedhead?" Her fingers gently brushed through his curls, longer after their weeks away in Africa and coiled tighter with the salt air wrapped around them, "I most certainly will make time to use these curls as my steering wheel, John Clarence Egan."

"Steer me right where you want me, Spook." His hand drifted down her stomach but froze right when he felt the wispy curls between her legs. "You need to put the dog down first."

"He has a name."

Fine. Can you please find somewhere safe to put Butter before I fuck you, Mrs. Egan?"

"Only because you asked so nicely."

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME THE WOMBATS / IS THIS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO FEEL LIKE THIS?

welcome to the end.

i've found a new loose end.

i don't wanna split the difference.

i'd rather just commit to my indifference.

i think my mind has made its mind up.

took my demons down to the water.

gonna take some time to avoid you.

i don't wanna jump to conclusions.

i'm jumping on the fact i've gotta lost you.

i've got to get you out of my mind and back into my arms.

i want to be shaking in the shockwave.

i've only got one clear shot.

a little courage for the road.

throw my troubles in a deep freeze.

i'm dressed to kill.

i'm gonna be your man.

i must be taking all the right pills.

you know i'm your number one fan.

let's have the best worst night we've ever had in our lives.

they're all just words that bounce around.

there's a demon inside of me.

there's nowhere left to run this time.

he's drinking on the job again.

stay close, don't leave.

i'll let you trick me with another lie.

i'll play along.

i don't wanna live a quiet life.

he's itching for another scratch.

let me sink into your burning eyes.

it's so hard to lose a missing piece.

i saw my monsters to the back of your hotel.

i think i might have arrived too soon.

i hear the birds harmonize between your yells.

i thought it would be more my style.

i only ever did it once in awhile.

is this what it feels like to feel like this?

the world is a glass and it's overflown.

you can self-improve, but you're still on your own.

who am i to tell you what i think you should do?

who am i but just a third wheel in the room?

we terrify each other.

the world is just a used pinball machine.

i think i've been up for days.

you've got the fingers and i've got the buttons to press.

i've got one too many thoughts.

all i feel is the same old damage.

you're hard to leave behind.

it's not quite my vibe.

perhaps it'd be alright if we slept together.

happiness is just a moonbow in the spring time.

i can't find the words.

i should stay in the moment.

maybe deep down i yearn for the same old damage.

tell me what could go wrong.

you can bounce me off the tide.

why've you got to analyze it?

it costs money just to disappear.

it's not sleep that i need.

i want to let off a little steam.

i just want to forget about it.

i didn't mean to wage a war.

i didn't mean to start a fight.

it was a good idea at the time.

i've seen fog like this before.

i should have read the signs.

nothing ever gets left behind.

[noonswrites]

Hey! I love your writing <3 idk if you are still taking requests so feel free to ignore this but could you write an angsty fic where Xavier is too busy chasing Wednesday to notice what he had all along (reader). With a happy ending pls <3

ty! hope you enjoy this ❤️

“damn it, i got the weathervane” your best friend announces dejectedly.

“oh, me too!” you tug on his sleeve. he looks down at you with a smile.

“nice!” Xavier offers his hand for a high five and you take the opportunity. neither of you would consider serving coffees to be the most exciting volunteer opportunity, but you do enjoy spending time together. you still remember the day you met Xavier, and the two of you (along with Ajax) had been inseparable ever since. although these days, you and Xavier were often left third wheeling with Ajax and his complicated feelings for Enid developing. things get even more complicated when Ajax realized his shift with Wednesday had been switched out for one with his new crush.

when the day arrives, you and Xavier tease Ajax like your life depends on it. “ooooh AJ’s got a crush!” you pinch the blushing boy’s shoulder.

“i do not!” he squeals childishly.

“you definitely do, haven’t seen you this red since-“ Ajax is quick to cover Xavier’s mouth with his hand.

“c’mon guys, at least i have someone” you raise an eyebrow at Ajax’s statement but stay quiet. Xavier is stunned into silence too, but only you know how to read him well enough to notice the minuscule change in his features. you’re more than grateful when Enid appears, and you and Xavier make your way to the weathervane.

“bet i can make more coffees than you” you tease while nudging him.

“you don’t even know how to make coffee, plus Tyler has to teach us first” you know vaguely of Xavier’s “history” with Tyler, and that things are rough between them now. your lips pull into a thin line and you put a hand on Xavier’s back. he relaxes his posture the slightest bit.

“hey, i’m not gonna let him say shit to you alright? if he lays a hand on you i won’t let him see the light of day ever again” Xavier smiles at that, and your heart swells at the thought that you’ve reassured him, even just temporarily.

“you sound like a parent” he says while scratching the top of your head.

you roll your eyes sarcastically, mentally making a note to distract him from whatever Tyler has planned. the training for the coffee shop is agonizing, but Xavier knows it would be much worse if you weren’t there. while Tyler’s back is turned, you make faces to mock him and Xavier does his best to hide his giggling. After you learn the basics, you make it your mission to make the worst coffees and force Tyler to try all of them, to make sure they’re “customer safe”.

“dude, you have to stop” xavier whispers while choking on laughter. Tyler is throwing away the fourth coffee you’ve made, and you’re already working on a fifth.

“i’m just looking out for our lovely customers Xavier, they’re ‘looking for a certain standard’” you say while using air quotes, mocking the speech Tyler has given you earlier. you pour an excessive amount of coffee grounds into your next serving, and Wednesday walks through the door at that moment. she approaches Xavier and you watch.

“want a coffee?” he offers.

“i’m here to see Tyler” she responds with her usual cold tone.

“i told you he was bad news” Xavier warns.

“twice.” she pauses “but who i speak to is my business”

Xavier walks off after that, his entire demeanor changed. the smile has been wiped off of your face as well, and you spend the rest of the shift making coffees in silence. you’re pretty sure Xavier is jealous of the attention Wednesday gives Tyler, which in turn dampens your mood. making jokes suddenly isn’t as easy after watching your unrequited crush interact with his unrequited crush.

Ajax picks the two of you up after Outreach day is over, giddy with the excitement of being asked out by Enid. you do your best to cheer him on, but he notices something is off with you and Xavier and pulls you off to talk in private after you drop Xavier off at his room.

“what… happened today? was it Tyler?” Ajax questions.

“no… yes- kind of— i don’t know!” you rub your hands over your face in frustration “AJ, i think Xavier’s got a crush on Wednesday”

“yeah, so?” he looks puzzled

“well, she came in today, and i think she’s got a crush on Tyler”

“i don’t know, Xavier’s complicated… i’ve known him for years and it’s still hard to read him” he takes a breath “unfortunately, you’re a little easier, and i think you’re upset for him, but you’re also upset because it seems like you’re a part of this…. ‘romance’ situation…” he meets your eyes hesitantly.

“damn it AJ, was it really that easy?” Ajax smiles and gives you a playful nudge.

“what can i say, i am the master of romance” he says while shrugging his shoulders

“ew!” you laugh.

“well, i’d be lying if i said i didn’t think he had feelings for you too”

“but you just said he’s hard to read!”

“i said it was hard, not impossible” ajax smirks “plus, you don’t see the looks he gives you while you’re turned away”

“oh c’mon” you groan “now you’re just lying to make me feel better”

“hey, that’s the least i can do for the torture you guys inflict on me” you spend the rest of the night forcing Ajax to tell you every detail about his day with Enid.

the next few weeks, you watch and help Xavier and Ajax furiously prepare for the Poe cup. Xavier has deemed today “finalizing designs day”. you make your way to Ms. Thornhill’s classroom, which you know is Xavier’s last period before lunch. it’s tradition for you to pick him up and walk there with him, but today is different. you peer through the doorway, searching for him and finally land on his hunched over figure, sitting next to Wednesday. she must have moved seats, you think to yourself. you wait patiently for them to finish their conversation, growing frustrated as it drags on. you wish you were better at reading lips as you watch Xavier laugh at something, and Wednesday gives him a small smirk. Wednesday never smiles… what could he have possibly said?

you’re brought back to reality when Xavier confronts you with Wednesday by his side “hey… sorry for the late notice, but i need to talk through some stuff with Wednesday, i’ll catch up to you later?”

“sure” you don’t let him get another word in before storming off and ranting about the whole event over lunch with Ajax and Enid.

“if it makes you feel any better, i don’t think we Wednesday has felt anything for anyone ever, except maybe Tyler” Enid tries to reassure you.

“that’s not what it seemed like today” you huff.

after the lunch incident, you’re really not looking forward to meeting up with Xavier to discuss Poe cup plans. you drag yourself up the stairs to his hall, and see that he’s left the door open since he knew you were coming. you poke your head through, Xavier’s back is turned so he doesn’t see you snake over behind him. when he hears the floor creak as you take your closest step to him, he slams his sketchbook abruptly.

“jesus! a little warning would be nice” he pants.

“what were you drawing?” you respond snidely, leaning over him.

“n- nothing” he goes red.

you let your jealousy get the better of you “was it Wednesday? it seems like you’ve got a little crush on her…”

you have him cornered, physically and mentally “i- she’s alright i guess”

you punch his arm “i knew it!” he recoils and rubs it while pouting “Ajax had it all wrong, i cant believe i thought he was right”

“what?” Xavier blushes harder somehow “what did he say!?”

“oh nothing, he was just totally off about who he thought you actually like”

you’re not sure how you’ve held it together this long. your heart sunk the moment you mentioned Wednesday and you’ve regretted every second since. it’s a mystery that Xavier still hasn’t picked up on the fact that you want nothing more than to melt into the floor at this moment. he opens his mouth and interrupts your dismal thoughts.

“okay, i think we should focus on the Poe cup now, could you review these designs?” he hands you a stack of paper and you take them, staring down at the detailed sketches he’s made without a thought processing through your head. Xavier waves a hand over your face, concerned by how distant you look.

“hello? anybody home?” he pokes your forehead teasingly.

“haha, very funny” you roll your eyes.

“seriously, what’s going on? you’ve been… off… lately” he puts a hand on your shoulder.

“just- tired i guess” you stare at his shoes, avoiding his quizzical gaze. he pulls your chin up.

“hey, c’mon, don’t hide from me… you know i know you well enough to know that face is more than ‘tired’” you peer at him hesitantly though your eyelashes. the next words you let out are unexpected, but true nonetheless.

“i’ll tell you when i’m ready” he seems relieved “i promise, i will” Xavier has to hold himself back from pulling you in for a hug after that, he substitutes the urge by pointing at one of the sketches in your hand.

“that one was from what you said yesterday, about the clown makeup” he watches for your reaction, satisfied when you smile down at it.

“it’s perfect, so you like the clown/jester idea?”

“yeah, i can’t say i’m thrilled about any makeup or costumes, but your idea is definitely better than Ajax’s or the rest of the team’s” he pauses “it may even be better than mine”

“shut up”

“yes ma’am” he mutters instinctively. you snort at this, and return your eyes to the paper. the drawing he pointed to was of you, decorated with smudged, edgy looking clown makeup. somehow, he’s still made you look beautiful.

“can i keep this?” you ask him.

“uh- y- yeah of course” you know Xavier’s weak spot is compliments for his art, so it doesn’t surprise you that the request makes him a little flustered.

Xavier’s equally as excited as he is nervous the day of the poe cup. Ajax is afraid of what’ll happen, especially because you and Xavier have a tendency to be aggressive on competition days. you’re anxiously tapping your foot in the tent, waiting for Xavier to help you prepare.

“dude, what is taking him so long!?” you impatiently demand. Ajax and the rest of the team stare at you, afraid to respond. they’re already in their costumes, but you still need to review your strategy as a group and get your makeup and tools ready. you storm out of the tent angrily, now furious once you spot him. he’s out of costume, and once again talking to Wednesday, with his back turned to you.

“so, you’ll meet me after class next week? is that a promise?” he asks her.

“i don’t make promises Xavier, and you should hurry up, you only have 30 minutes before we beat you” Wednesday walks off after this, oblivious to your agitated form.

Xavier turns and realizes you’re behind him. the blood drains from his face.

“tent. now.” is all you say before stomping off. he follows silently, looking like a kicked puppy with his head down. the rest of the team have already started preparing, frantically applying smudged makeup and tinkering with the boat.

“look” xavier starts to say “i’m really sorry, i lost track of time and-“

“sit.” you say pointing to the nearest chair. Xavier listens, deciding that explaining himself isn’t the best option right now. you groan when you realize all of the other chairs are occupied, electing to hover over his tall frame. you soon realize the angle is making it hard to apply the face paint, and now have most of your weight on his lap. normally, you’d be flustered by this, but you’re too angry to care, hastily swiping the brush over his face. Xavier finds himself differing from your disposition, shifting in his seat nervously, bashful that your display of temper is in front of his peers. they are just as scared as he is, turned away from you and Xavier, timidly making sure things are in the right order. you use your fingers to make any final smudges, and Xavier is grateful the makeup covers his blushing.

“get in your suit, you have 10 minutes” he rushes off, not wanting to be in your presence any longer. you speak to the team outside of the tent, still in earshot from Xavier.

“alright. we don’t have time to review our strategy before starting, because someone thought flirting was more important than breaking our team record” you announce to the group “so i can only hope you’ve read it over before this” the crew nods hesitantly, and make their way over to your boat. Xavier jumps in seconds before Weems fires her pistol, and your team starts paddling. you’re in the lead at first, the weapons you made with Ajax doing their job well. as head of the boat, you’re in charge of overseeing the rest of the team and giving them directions. you occasionally toss “distractions” at the other ships.

Xavier sits at the back of the boat, controlling the steering. “switch!” you yell as your boat swerves too far left. they all listen, switching their paddles to the other side of the boat. all except for Xavier, who is too busy watching Wednesday’s boat pass yours. you whistle as loud as you can “focus!” he snaps back into action, paddling twice as hard. you finally make it to the water’s edge, and you jump onto the dock, tying the boat down as quickly as you practiced. Xavier and Ajax jump out next, sprinting for the flag, and the rest of the team stays behind, guarding the boat as others approach and dock theirs.

all is going well until two of your team members hear something in the woods and go to investigate. they decide to do this while your turned around, still tying down the boat, leaving you to fend for yourself. a few minutes pass and you check the time, realizing that your team members’ distraction may not have been so small. you rush over in the direction you think they’ve run off to, and find them dazed on the floor, scathed by one of the sirens. you begrudgingly pull them up and guide them back the boat.

when you return Xavier is glaring at you, flag in hand. “they got distracted while i wasn’t looking” you mutter. he rolls his eyes at your explanation, and you clumsily jump in the boat, untying the knots you made just as quickly as you tied them. the group pushes off and heads for shore.

you’re making good time before Xavier shouts “what’s going on!?” you shoot daggers at him with your eyes before you realize what’s happened, the floor of your boat is filled with water.

“how did you not realize we had a hole?!” you shout at him. Wednesday’s team passes yours and you realize it’s too late… you’ve lost. Xavier slams his oar down, falling off of his seat.

“you’re the one who lost our team!” he growls back. you jump into the murky water, surrendering to your loss. the rest of your team does the same and you and Xavier argue the whole swim back to shore.

“if you hadn’t spent so long talking to Wednesday we could’ve briefed the team on what not to do dumbass!” you continue to berate him once your on land.

“yeah well-“ he starts.

“that’s enough!” Ajax cuts him off “guys, give each other some space” he warns. you both sulk off to your rooms.

after showering, you feel slightly more refreshed and less angry. you sit on your bed wringing out your hair with a towel when you hear knocking on your window. this scares you because your roommate is out, and your not exactly on the lowest floor.

you make your way closer to the sound as it continues “hello?” it’s coming from the last person you’re expecting at the moment. you pry open the window

“Xavier?” you don’t bother helping him as he climbs through, instead you stand dumbstruck. “how’d you even get up here?”

“i” he says between breaths “came here- to apologize”

“why’d you come through the window?”

“because i didn’t want you to get in trouble… if there were dorm checks and stuff” he scratches his head. the gesture is heart warming, though you refuse to admit it out loud.

“y’know i didn’t mean any of the stuff i said today” he starts “and i’m sorry for being late”

“i didn’t either, i was just worked up because i know how much the poe cup matters to you, but i should’ve been more aware that something- someone else matters more”

“yeah, you” you raise an eyebrow “the poe cup matters to you too, and i should’ve paid more attention to that instead of goofing off with Wednesday”

“i don’t think that girl is capable of goofing off”

he smiles at the ground “yeah”

“so you really like her?”

“i don’t know, she… confuses me. feelings in general do”

“yeah, trust me, i know that” you mutter.

“hey” you look up at him “i heard that” you smile at the disingenuous look of disapproval he wears.

“you looking forward to your date with her next week?” the thought of them going out makes you a little nauseous, but as always your priority is to maintain your friendship with Xavier, even if it means showing interest in things that hurt you.

his next words shock you “i canceled it” your cute confused face causes a toothy grin on his.

“after all that?!” you say, referring to the intense argument you had earlier.

“yeah, today made me realize that we’re not actually interested in each other at all” he pauses before shocking you further “i’m actually interested in girls that do know how to ‘goof off’” he airquotes, and takes a step closer to you.

“and” your heart is beating fast now “i prefer girls who are a little competitive, but tolerate me enough to be on my team” you can’t process that this is actually happening.

“i also like girls” he takes another step “who know me well enough to make me feel better about shitty volunteer days” his playful smile turns into a smirk as he realizes the effect he has on you.

“maybe i’m just into people that give me way to many chances” Xavier is so close you can feel his breath on you as he speaks quietly. you resort to watching his lips as he talks. “maybe i just really really really like my best friend”

“that would be kind of weird” you say, more breathlessly than you intended.

“yeah probably” he says after a soft laugh “do you think she’d find it weird that i want to kiss her right now?”

“i think she’d be ok with it” you avoid his affectionate gaze, too shy to meet his eyes.

“just ok?” he says while swiping your chin up at him again.

you sigh and this makes him chuckle “i think she’d really enjoy-“ his lips are on yours before you finish the sentence. they’re soft and you can tell he’s nervous, treating you like you’re made of glass while his face is pressed to yours. you wrap your arms around his neck which urges him to deepen the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. you can feel his heart beating quickly against your chest and pull yourself away to take a breath.

“you look really cute in clown makeup by the way” he can’t help but admit to you.

“idiot” you reply, smiling before pulling him in for another kiss.

[softpine]

u always keep me in perfect suspense brandi, ur one of the only blogs i have notifs on for (the other is my gf lmao). after every post i have the most polite "NEXT POST WHEN?!" moment i possibly can, and then keep it to myself. i get soso excited to see everything you post, literally ever. i dont think ill ever stop caring about frozen pines

🥺

i'm honored to be your third wheel fjskjds thank you so much!! i have this bad habit of assuming that people only care about frozen pines when they happen to see it on their dash, so it always makes my brain *record scratch freeze frame* when someone tells me they look forward to my posts and think about the story in their own brain?? idk why but that's so beyond wild to me in the best way 😭💖

[gotham-witch]

A weapons happiness

Hecate couldn’t remember a time when they felt this happy.

They had just gone on a picnic with Christel, Derek, Mary, and their family. It was fun. It reminded them of old times. Before everything went to chaos. Kam had gotten to run around and be a kid, Daxter and Ben got to spend time with Derek, Ida and Mary were obviously kinda of flirting, and then and Seraphina hung out and quietly discussed things while Christel made third wheeling comments.

They even bumped into Ms Delenn, even though she wasn’t their teacher anymore. Along with Jason Todd who was reading on a bench. Were they both flirting with their aunt or was it their imagination? John and Zatanna were for SURE getting way closer to their mom though.

Hecate hadn’t taken out their diary since before they started dating Emily (ew, they hated remembering that time), but now seemed like as best of a time as ever. With their special pen gifted to them by the Sera, they began writting.

They got a little too into it maybe, scribbling out little fantasies before they fled their head. They got so into it that they didn’t even notice the pen glowing until they scratched the paper with a blade. They opened their eyes to see a shuriken that glowed yellow like the sun.

“How many more of these am I gonna find?!”

[sweethyune]

The taste of your lips. (series - chapter three)

— pairing : hyunjin dancer x f!reader dancer

— warnings : the story includes fiction, a lot of cursing, violence, hyunjin is very rude :,), anger issues, dirty talking, choking.. please let me know if i forgot something!

— also please keep in mind that english isn't my native language! ^^

— word count : 1,5 k

— there are reader's povs, hyunjin's povs

— READER'S NAME IS WINTER ICE!

Chapter three - "Do you like me this much Sam?"

Winter Ice.

You were standing in front of your mirror at home and you were rummaging through your closet for half an hour, just to choose something to wear, on the very first day of school. In freshman year, you use to wear formal clothes, because you didn't really need to dress up. In sophomore year, you wore a longer black dress that ended just below your knees. But what now? That was the question you've been asking yourself.

You sighed and threw on a white shirt that you tucked into a black skirt that you took on, which ended just a little bit below your butt. To top it all off, you threw on ten-centimeter black heels.

Was it too much? Maybe. Did it bother you? Absolutelly not. At the end of the day you are four feet and nine inches so you had quite a big problem with people, because you usually became someone's carpet. This way, you could avoid someone stepping on you.

And with those heels on, you can't just overlook someone who is five feet and ten inches tall.. and has perhaps the most annoying face you have ever seen in your life. You were angry again. Just thinking about that gothic bastard made your fists clench on their own. You took your bag, got into the car and drove to school.

You didn't even realize that this and next year are the last years, you'd be in this school and then, you're going to work. Crazy. You are now in third grade but.. how did the time fly so fast? It's not like you were rolling on the couch during the holidays, you had three part-time jobs at the same time to earn some extra money, which could always come in handy.

You spent money on clothes and make-up, because it was something like an aid for school. You had to go to the performances dressed up nicely from head to toe. It also had weight on the grade. At Dinadan, you had to know more than how to dance.

You had to look a certain way, be able to memorize all the ballroom dances and be punctual. You had to have a good character, be able to communicate in ways other than words. Our body has always been able to speak for us but.. can you read body language?

Do you know what it means when a person has their arms crossed on their chest? Do you know how a person feels, when they cross their legs? You had to be smart to get to Dinadan. This wasn't just another overpriced school, this is one of the best dance schools in the world. The school where you're going daily for past two years.

When you arrived at the place, you pulled into the parking lot and hit your hand on the steering wheel. Fuck. The entire parking lot was taken. Except for one place.. and when you wanted to park there, you almost hit a black Mustang, which came there in that moment and parked in YOUR spot. You angrily got out of the car and waited for an explanation from the moron, who allowed themselves to do this.

But at that damn moment, that bastard, that you hate so much, got out of the car and you knew you weren't definitely in the mood to talk to him for today. „Get into your cheap car and get out of my way. Get away yourself away from my sight." He stood in front of you amused in all his "perfection".

“Get out of here and maybe i won't scratch your eyes out." you smiled innocently at him. You were pissed, because you were already late for school.

„Shut the fuck up.” he growled without even looking at you, his face pissed off as always. He walked away not forgetting to elbow your shoulder as he passed. That fucking piece of shit.

Hwang Samuel Hyunjin

I didn't sleep all night. Molly drove up to see me yesterday and then we did it three times in her car. The fact that i had two scratches from her on my back from her claws pissed me off. I probably wasn't soft to her, but that doesn't mean i'm going to have her marks all over my body. I guess not really. I already had a warning light going on in my head to never fuck Kim Molly again.

I finally got up and went to school. That's right, at two in the morning. I changed into a black tank top, gray sweatpants and finally relaxed as i began to sway to the music. I danced until about a quarter to seven and then went home to shower and change. I had to dance out all the stress and anger because everything that was going on around me was like a spiral of shit from which there was no escape.

I don't even know why the fact that this is already one of the last two years that i will be studying here pissed me off. Maybe i felt her presence here and that's probably why i wasn't ready to leave. She was here, in all the photos and on half the trophies the school won. She was beautiful and i looked at her every time i have passed by the fame board. All the teachers here knew her, some even taught her.

„Good morning." Minho sat down next to me and threw a burger at me. I was sitting in the dining room, planning to buy some food from the buffet, but i guess i don't have to anymore. „Hello." I mumbled. „Where's the dog?" I arched an eyebrow and glared at Minho. He looked so pissed off. „Shitting" He snapped and i smirked. Of course he is. What else could Seungmin do in the morning?

I got up and left him with a nod. I turned around and headed to my locker where i grabbed my gym bag. I threw one pair of sweatpants in, shorts, two tank tops and the burger with bottle of water inside. I put my gym bag on my back and suddenly watched as Winter Ice appeared not far away from me.

Rage. I felt angry again. I quite enjoyed watching her in the morning as she tried to park somewhere and ended up parking the car into the janitor's parking spot. I smirked. The boys from several classes appeared next to me and i leaned my elbow on the locker. "Hey you blue viper." I yelled at her, my smirk deepening as she spun around to face me.

Winter Ice

„Hey you blue viper." You heard a voice that made all the hairs on your body stand up. That fucking bastard. „How many guys are you going to fuck today? Or did you get all dressed up for me? Want me to fuck you this much?" He appeared in front of you and licked his lips. You balled your hands into fists, anger seeping through you. You scoffed and raised your hand to hit him.

But you were stopped by his hands, which grabbed your wrist. He pushed you and pressed you against the locker behind you. You looked up at him with your head held high and watched his pissed off expression. He gritted his teeth.. and he was definitely thinking of killing you in hundred different ways.

„Don't even think about doing such a thing." He growled. „You're just a little whore that nobody cares about. You can't be compared not even to a dog." He spluttered and you just smiled. „Do you like me that much Sam? So much so that you have to hold me like this, pressing your crotch against me? You're pathetic if you think that i could ever want you that way.” You smiled cheekily, teasing him. Knowing exactly how much you were annoying him at the moment. But you weren't lying anyway, his body was pressed all against yours. Maybe it wasn't his intention but you felt happy with the thought, that you could piss him off even more.

„What? Does fucking others no longer satisfy you? Are you having problems with your prostate?" You chuckled and wanted to continue, but just then he grabbed you by the neck and squeezed it hard in his hand. „You're dead, you tiny chump." He growled and you suddenly felt tears welling up in your eyes from the lack of oxygen.

„That's what you said in freshman year and i'm still alive." You gave him a cheeky smile and a growl came out of his mouth. If he thinks he can control you, he's fucking wrong. And just then it stopped because you two heard Mrs. Young's voice.

„Mister Hwang and miss Ice to the principal's office. IMMIDIATELY."

masterlist

[grodyego]

talk about the relationship between Dove and Vega?

OHHH GLADLY !!!!!

dove and vega kind of take the longest to fully warm up to each other (rakesh is really kind of the binding glue that holds them together. tbf that remains true even after everybody is fully friends with everybody else, hes just kind of the heart of their team that way). they don't start out disliking each other or anything like that, but they are both mutually quite bad at making friends and interacting with other people in a "normal" capacity, for their own reasons (vega's a control freak who struggles to understand other people and dove lowkey doesn't even think of himself as a full human being most of the time), and they're both pretty stubborn by nature and thus naturally butt heads a bit. dove finds vega's apparently flippancy towards others and her only priority ever seeming to be her "work" or gathering data to be irritating at best and actively unnerving at worse. vega likewise is pretty quick to catch and callout dove's bad habit of projecting onto other people and the hypocrisy that lends towards and thinks it makes me come off holier-than-thou and preachy at times, so it causes some tension !

all that being said, given that dove and rakesh are actual partners in the field (and their relationship grows quite quickly), vega reasonably starts to get pretty apprehensive about becoming a "third wheel", which for dove's part he does pick up on, and goes out of his way to do things to reassure that that isn't what's happening (nor could it ever be, frankly). hes pretty good at recognizing that vega is still pretty young without condescending to her about it because he actually sympathizes with her position pretty greatly, he can understand what its like, hes kind of been there. vega for her part appreciates that most people seem to think both of them are creepy and weird, and she has a lot of fun kind of filling in some of the blanks for him on some aspects of the future he doesnt fully understand, cuz like. i invite you, fellow autists, to imagine how amazing it would feel to be able to infodump about everything youve ever been invested in, from scratch and in such a level of detail it was as if you were explaining it to somebody who has just showed up that day on earth

again vega's pretty limited in her social circle and usually insists she doesn't want or need friends, kind of in contrast with how she often behaves, i think she would even maybe initially be kind of. almost mad that not only has dove managed to make her care about him, but to the point where she is like, emotionally invested in his wellbeing and safety. NOT cool of him. she came to highly secretive questionable ethics factory so that she'd never have to do that again and then rakesh already took what was supposed to be her only one exceptions spot, now she's gotta care about two people ???? who both work in the "not only will you die it will hurt the entire time you're dying" department ????? thats exhausting. fuck those guys