#and i decided to write it down instead so here

[cevansbrat0007]

Bold Moves

Summary: You decide to slip Ari your panties during an innocent encounter at the public library...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Brief Discussions of Body Image, Bird Being Brave, Going Commando, Light Roleplaying, Frisking, Manhandling, Spanking, Ass Slapping, P in V Sex, Implied Overstimulation, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Decided to finish this when I came across it in my drafts. Takes place earlier in Ari and Bird's romantic relationship. Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“I’m so glad you pitched me this idea, Marisol.” You beam as you finish writing in your notebook. “I know it’s still early yet, but I would love to collaborate with you for Halloween.”

“Yes!” The younger woman cheers, throwing her arms up in the air. “I knew I picked the right woman.”

“Just I knew they picked the right woman to run the town library.” You throw her a wink before tucking your pad and pen back into your purse. “Now, I hate to cut this meeting short…” Out of habit you press a hand against your belly, silently wishing you’d opted to throw on a pair of spanx this morning instead of a flimsy pair of panties. 

Frankly, you were tired of sucking it in. But every time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you looked pretty damn good. Perhaps your confidence was growing after all. 

“But I need to get home and change so I can run by the shop before it gets too late.” You finish, feeling grateful when the sweet librarian sees fit to lead you out of her office.

“Sooo…” The dark-haired woman drags out the word, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as you both come around the corner. “Word on the street is that you’ve been seeing a lot of Detective Levinson lately. Everything good, I hope?”

 “What do you mean?” You respond, willing your pulse to remain steady. “Everything’s fine. He just…likes for me to call him whenever something new pops up about Martin. That’s all.”

And whenever you lock up in the evening. And when you make it home. And then again to decide if he’s coming to your place for the night. Or, if you’re already on the back roads heading to his. 

It was all so fun and exciting. But at the same time, it was just sex. Amazing sex, mind you. But just sex all the same.    

Instead of responding immediately, Marisol simply chooses to link her arm through yours. “Mm. While I haven’t lived here long, I’ve already learned how much this town loves gossip.” She muses. “Which is why I try to fly under the radar at all times.”

“Uh huh.” You give her a gentle nudge. “Even when it comes to a certain Officer Milton?”

“Shh! We do no not speak that man’s name in this house!”

“Why not?”

“Because I feel like he always goes out of his way to just…be around. He’s like a puppy. I do not have time for puppies, chica. I’m too busy building a career amongst the books.”

“Well sugar, I suppose you might wanna tell him that.”

“Ay, but that would involve making conversation. Something I also do not have time for because–”

“Because he’s standing over there by the door, talking to our favorite resident detective.” You interrupt with a giggle, prompting the other woman to drop your arm in a flourish before racing off back in the direction of her office before squeaking out “you never saw me” - leaving you alone. 

You allow yourself to stand there for another moment, content with watching the two men talk. While both were easy on the eyes, you were only interested in one of them. Glancing down at your outfit, you once again reassure yourself that you’re looking pretty damned good. 

And then – just that fast – an idea strikes you.

Refusing to overthink what it was you were about to do, you discreetly make your way into the ladies room. After checking to make sure you were alone, you slip into a stall. Reaching underneath your skirt, you slide your lacy black panties down your thighs before stepping out of them. 

Biting your lip, you tuck the small scrap of fabric into your pocket. Once you’re finished, you go to leave. But not before stopping long enough to refresh your lip gloss and fluff your curls. And then you’re out the door.

Hopefully you’d be able to catch the handsome bounty hunter before he left.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to find him. He’s right where you saw him last – near the front of the library still talking to Milton. As you near the two, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll be able to pull this off without making an absolute fool of yourself. 

But first you’d have to find a way to get rid of Officer Milton without making your intentions obvious. And then it hits you. While it might be wrong, it was officially time to pawn him off on your favorite new friend.

Marisol.

“Good afternoon, Officer Milton.” You chirp as you sidle forward, politely interrupting their conversation. “Detective Levinson.” Of course you’re immediately met with smiles from both men. 

“Well get a load a’ you.” Milton gives a playful whistle once he gets a good look at your business attire. “Lookin’ sharp, darlin. Goin’ somewhere special?”

“Actually, I just came from a meeting down at the bank.” You tell them, smoothing your hands along your gray pencil skirt. 

“Ahh.” The officer nods. “Fingers crossed all went well.”

“It did. Thank you.” Delicately clearing your throat, you make a show of glancing around before directing your complete attention to the young officer in front of you. “While I hate to interrupt you two when you’re hard at work, I think Marisol might need you.”

“She does?” The man immediately perks up, vaguely reminding you of your neighbor’s golden retriever. 

“Yep.” You wince inwardly, hating yourself for lying. “Not sure what it’s about, but I think she’s somewhere in the back.” 

Just like that, a switch has been flipped and Officer Milton is off on the hunt for a sweet little librarian who most certainly did not need him. Fingers crossed she would catch the hint and just go with it. 

And now you’re alone with the one man with the power to leave you breathless. You were constantly left tied up in knots around this man. But today it was finally time you turned the tables on this guy. 

“How’s the manhunt going, Detective? Any new leads?”

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss this part of my investigation with you, Miss.” He says, flashing you a rather charming smile. “But if you hear from our guy Martin anytime soon, be sure to give me a call.”

“Of course.” You nod, feeling your cheeks heat. “Well, I’d best be goin’ now.”

“Be safe gettin’ home.” 

“Same to you. Detective.”

And then, without sparing him so much as a warning glance, you discreetly remove your panties from their hiding spot and slip them into the back pocket of his jeans. To his credit, Ari doesn’t move a muscle. Instead he continues to stare straight ahead, his gaze never wavering.  

Head held high, you manage to make it all the way to your car before collapsing in a fit of nervous laughter. While you wished you could’ve seen his face, you know deep down that you were better off running off the way you had.  

Maybe he’d call you tonight and maybe he wouldn’t. But all that mattered is that you’d mustered up enough confidence to make some bold moves this afternoon, which by all accounts made you a bad bitch.

Later That Same Evening…

It’s been hours since you pulled that stunt with Ari, but as luck would have it, you still had yet to hear from him. Not that you were worried or anything. In fact, if you had to choose an emotion, you were more disappointed than anything else.

While you’d long since abandoned your high heels by your front door, you were still wearing the outfit you’d worn to the bank. You’d simply been too excited to go by the shop so you’d decided to remain closed for the day.

Heaving a sigh as you rise from the couch, you’re in the middle of debating whether or not it’s worth trying to cobble together something for dinner when you hear the sound of your doorbell. Confused, you go to reach for your phone, only to frown when you see there’s nothing from the one man you wanted to hear from most.

The bell chimes again, prompting you to get a move on. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” You mumble, stretching your arms above your head. Opening the door, you’re treated to the sight of a large man standing on your porch with his hands in his pocket, his official badge prominently displayed on his hip. 

Hello, Detective Ari Levinson. 

“Evening, Miss. Apologies for bothering you so late.” 

“Why hello, Detective. Somethin’ I can help you with?” You do your best to keep your tone light while you wait for him to explain himself.

“Sure hope so. Got a report about someone engaging in some inappropriate behavior.” He informs you, barely concealing his smirk as he leans his big body against the porch railing.

“Is that right?”

“Fraid so.” He nods solemnly. “In fact, I actually found a trail of evidence that led me right here to your front door.”

“I…well, there has to be some mistake.” You protest, your hand flying to your chest. 

“Huh.” Ari sucks on his teeth as he reaches into his pocket to retrieve a small scrap of lacy black fabric. “Then you wouldn’t happen to know who these belong to, would you?”

Your eyes go wide at the sight of your panties dangling from one thick index finger. 

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, but they’re certainly not mine.” You sniff haughtily. “I’ve never seen those before in my life.”

“Now, Miss.” He gently chastises, taking another step towards you, invading your space. “Perhaps I should warn you that it’s a crime to lie to a member of law enforcement.” Instead of responding you simply fold your arms across your heaving bosom. 

The nerve of this man, thinking he had the right to question you like this right out in the open. Honestly, what would your neighbors think? The scandal!

“You know what? I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna need to search the premises.” The bounty hunter moves to enter your home, only to growl when your hand stops him short. “It’s also a felony to impede an official investigation.” Ari grunts, his brow furrowing in annoyance.

“And I'm thinkin’ I'm gonna need to see a warrant first, Detective.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his eyes darken - his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. 

“I’m sure a good girl like you ain’t got nothin’ to hide.” Ari rasps, leaning in so that his mouth now hovers a mere inch above your ear. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” You respond, sounding a little more breathless than you’d like.

“Unless there’s something in there you don’t want me to find?”

“I don’t have anything to hide.” Blowing out a breath you decide to give the man what he wants, if only to see what comes next

“Not sure I believe you, sweetheart.”

“Fine.” You concede. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you come in for a quick look. But you’ve gotta be fast.” You tell him, poking him in the shoulder before turning to lead him into your home. “Because I’m expecting company any minute and we don’t need an audience.”

“We’ll see.”

Your pulse kicks up when you hear Ari shut the door behind you, followed by the quiet snick of the lock. Guess that meant he thought he was staying awhile. Just as you open your mouth to protest, you’re caught off guard when he brushes by you, allowing you to catch a hint of his cologne. 

“I’m not sure what you’re on, Detective.” You say, shooting him your fiercest glare. Meanwhile, this man responds with his most lethal grin. “But I’m giving you five minutes to figure it out before I–” 

“You know, Miss, I didn’t wanna ask you this outside. Especially given the already delicate nature of this investigation. But do you happen to be wearing any panties?”

“Excuse me?!” His question has your mouth falling open, your cheeks burning hot with outrage.

“Answer the question.” His eyes track your every movement as you slowly back away in the direction of the stairs. “Because every good girl I know puts on a pair of panties before leaving the house for the day.”

“Goodnight, Detective Levinson.” You hiss before turning and taking the stairs two by two. “Please see yourself out before I’m forced to call your supervisor.”

Your words are met with silence. And it’s not until you reach the edge of your bedroom that you hear him moving – up the same stairs you’d just scaled only seconds before. You can hardly suppress a shiver as the heady thrum of anticipation courses through you. 

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart.” Ari growls softly as his impressive form fills your doorway, effectively blocking your only exit. “But I’m not through with my investigation.” It’s a struggle to ignore just how good he looks taking up space in your bedroom like this. 

“I want you to leave.”

“Oh, I will. As soon as I’m finished.” He takes a step towards you, rolling up his sleeves as he does. “But first, I’m gonna need you to turn and place your hands on the wall.”

“I–I will do no such thing!” Comes your almost breathless reply. “I’m not a criminal.”

“Hm.” Ari cocks his head, his magnetic blue eyes leering at your much smaller, curvier frame. “But you are a suspect.” In less than a fraction of a second, this man is now standing in front of you. “And it would be rather reckless of me if I didn’t pat you down.” One large hand curls itself around your bicep before gently leading to a nearby wall. “You should know that I’m a bit of a stickler when it comes to following protocol.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you place both of your hands on the cool surface. Taking a deep breath, you can’t help but jump when he kicks your feet apart, forcing you to spread your legs even wider, granting him better access.

“I’m gonna report you.” Unfortunately for you, your flimsy threat does nothing to deter him.

Your eyes fall shut when you feel two large, warm hands glide their way up and down your arms. It feels as tempting as it does comforting. He repeats the action twice more, almost as if he’s trying to lull you into a false sense of security. 

Next, those wandering hands are stroking along your sides, greedily following the path of your curves. And then you feel him bury his nose in the crook of your neck. It’s impossible to miss his soft groan as he inhales your sweet scent.

“Now I’ve gotta ask you, little Bird.” He hums, his sharp teeth nipping at your ear. “Do you have anything on you that could stab, stick, or poke me?” 

“N-no.” 

God, you were so fucking wet right now it’s embarrassing. And you can’t stop the moan that catches in your throat when his sensual ministrations move to your breasts – cupping, massaging, and kneading. He lewdly palms them through your blouse, this thumps paying extra attention to your hardened nipples. Your back arches of its own accord as he continues to play with your body.

And there’s a part of you that hates yourself for the way he makes you respond.  

“Hm. So far so good, baby. Proud of you for keeping your hands where I can see ‘em.” Now his hands are skimming down your hips to toy with the hem of your skirt. His warm breath dances along your sensitive skin, making you shiver. “But now it’s time for the big question.” Ari begins inching your skirt higher and higher. “And don’t you dare lie to me. Are you–”

“This ain’t right, Detective!” You protest, protectively clenching your thighs together. However, your words only make him chuckle. “Pretty sure this is an illegal search and seizure.”

“As a member of law enforcement, I would have to respectfully disagree with you.” He says at the same time as he grinds himself against you, his massive erection pressing into your lower back. “It’s my job to keep the community safe. And to deal with naughty girls who go around handing out their unmentionables to strangers.” Your skirt inches even higher now, stopping just short of revealing your dripping cunt. 

“And what do you know?” He purrs, holding you still as his hand dips between your thighs, cupping your most intimate flesh. “Looks like we’ve got a little liar on our hands. Don’t we?”

“Don’t. We.” The renewed authority in his tone makes your pussy quiver.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And how should we handle liars, sweetheart? Hm?” Your knees go weak when you feel two thick fingers spear their way through your messy folds, lightly strumming over your clit. “What should we do with you?”

“....I…don’t know….”

His deep chuckle has you squirming in his hold, your hips bucking as he continues to grind the heel of his palm against your sensitive nub.  

“Tell you what. You and I are about to have a serious conversation about what happens to pretty young ladies who can’t seem to tell the truth. Even when it’s in their best interest. What do ya say?”

“Y–yes, Sir.” You moan as your eyes threaten to roll back in your head, sparks of pleasure dancing behind your eyes. “Whatever you want – I’ll be so, sooo good!”

Thirty Minutes Later…

“Why the fuck you keep runnin’, baby?” Ari growls, smacking your bottom hard. “Yeah, get that juicy ass back here. Love watchin’ those cheeks bounce.”

The rhythmic sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, spilling out into the hall as Ari drives into you over and over again with his impressive cock. 

He’d been hard for hours before he ever showed up on your doorstep. Frankly, he’d lost count of how many times he’d paused throughout the day to bring your panties to his nose. It was like he couldn’t seem to get enough of how good you smelled. But he also knew that wouldn’t be enough.

He needed to taste you. Needed your unique, earthy flavor on his tongue. 

Thankfully, he had no doubt that he’d have time to eat the fuck out of your sweet pussy later. After he was finished fucking you into oblivion for being such bad girl. Who would’ve guessed his little Bird had it in her to be so deliciously naughty?

Meanwhile, you’re too busy sobbing into a pillow to be proud of yourself right now, your hands fisting the sheets while your man exacts his revenge on your body. At this rate, you’d already cum twice. And here you were already roaring along to orgasm number three. 

Fuck, this man was a goddamned menace!

Your desperate cries grow louder as Ari picks up his pace, forcing you to clench around him as you finally resort to begging.

“Please, Ari!” You wail when he lifts your hips higher before adjusting the angle of his strokes. “I–ooh God–M’so close!”

“Oh yeah?” He snarls, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. “Then let me see you work for it.” A sharp hiss escapes when his heavy palm comes down on your ass again, this time smacking both cheeks without so much as missing a beat. “This is how bad girls get punished.” You tense when he delivers yet another blow. “They’ve gotta work for their pleasure.”

“I’m sorry–wooh God!” Your voice comes out raw, bordering on hoarse.       

“That’s it, baby. Yeah, there we go.” He gifts you with another slap, earning a sharp yelp from you. “Yeah, throw it back like you love it.”

After an afternoon of being bad, there’s nothing you want more than to be good for this man. You wanted to please him. Make him happy. If only so he never stopped touching you. And you were trying – honest to God, you were.

But it was all too good. Too much. 

“Just know, everytime you run, I’m gonna drag that sweet ass right back.” Ari renews his punishing grip on your hips, holding you up even as your sweat slicked body starts to give out. “Now cum for me one more time so I can finally stop takin’ it easy on you, pretty Bird.”

END

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[alarajrogers]

But that is the reason -- it's just cultural rather than the actual truth.

In society, random people feel entitled to tell a man who is an abuse victim that aktually, women are afraid of being abused... because culturally, societally, it never occurs to anyone that men can be abused or that women can be abusers.

So we don't have a song about a man burning his ex's house down because everyone would interpret that the same way we interpret Blue October's "The End", which is about a man murdering his ex and her new boyfriend, then killing himself. "The End" has no hint or inclination that the woman was abusive, just that she left the main character, and from the fact that he murders her for sleeping with another man after she left him, we can see why! Same deal in "The Regulator" by Clutch, where a man returns after a year away to find his wife has taken up with another man, and he decides to kill her. We know nothing of the circumstances. Maybe she was told he was dead, maybe she has to sleep with the new guy to keep from losing the house, but all the main character cares about is, she's sleeping with another man, so he has to kill her.

To write a song where a woman does a man wrong, seriously wrong, and instead of just crying about it, he does something, and we all perceive him to be justified... we'd be pushing against a very heavy cultural headwind. Most "my ex did me wrong so I want revenge" stories from male POV in music are "my ex slept with someone else so I want her dead." And most people, obviously, do not view that with the same "Yeah! Do it!" fervor that we would a song about a woman who sets an abusive husband's house on fire.

The song would have to be very, very clear that the woman is a shithead, that she is abusing the guy, and that his revenge is not murder, but something that hurts her without invoking the spectre of male violence. And people would probably still misunderstand it.

A song about something like "you told me I was worthless and would never amount to anything, but now that I'm free of you, I'm successful and I'm happy and so that email you sent me about can we get back together? Hell no, go crawl back in your hole" would probably do the trick. Or "my new girlfriend is hotter than you, my new girlfriend is smarter than you, my new girlfriend is kinder than you, and she didn't want me to tell you so because she's nicer than you -- but I'm not, so here are the facts". You gotta establish incontrovertibly that this isn't a guy whining about his girlfriend left him, this is a guy whose girlfriend hurt him, was bad for him, abused him, and he's celebrating that he's free of her.

I'd love to see it, though. There is not nearly enough cultural understanding that it's even possible for women to abuse men, and we need to fix that.

men deserve more breakup anthems. I know and respect the societal reasons this genre is dominated by women, but where is my guy version of Miranda Lambert singing about burning your abusive ex's house down, metaphorically, for legal reasons

[sha-biest]

SHA's Golden Future DTIYS [Art & Writing]

Close ups of Mikey

About 10 days ago I had the idea to host a DTIYS and even though I told myself it wouldn't happen anytime soon.. the idea struck and it wouldn't let me go. SO, here it is! One thing before everything else:

1st place: One handmade custom plushie made by me

More information about this DTIYS down below

I am aware that this is a rather challenging DTIYS but it was done so intentionally by me. (Trust me, I tortured myself too 🙃) HOWEVER. you are allowed to chose to draw only one segment of the whole piece and not every single one! You will however get more points for including all 3 parts of it. I will judge the pieces based on: • How many segments of the whole piece were drawn • Creativity (in what way was it changed from the original to emphasize your own style for example) • Colors (did you chose to use colors or is it black and white?) • Hands. I do accept written entries for this as well! I love reading and I don't want to exclude writers for this one should they decide they want to tackle this! You are allowed to use my art up top of the DTIYS to promote your writing!

If you want to participate be sure to @sha-biest and use the tag #GoldenFutureDTIYS Additionaly, let me know what YOU would like to get as a plushie! (don't worry, you don't have to stick to that decision should it change over the course of the DTIYS)

Deadline: 10th March 2025

More Info: • #GoldenFutureAU art tag • Written Story by Co-Creator @rosesofenvy (More about Mikey's mindscape and him unlocking his full mystic powers can be read in "Keep You Safe" especially within Chapter 4 and Chapter 8) • The Sun God's appearance here and here References:

Mikey's mindscape in Golden Future:

In the beginning he thought it was black water but it's actually black sand

He can dive into the sand and uncover "treasures" (parts of his mystic energy)

Diving down means no vision, sound or air gets through to him

He can uncover the mystic powers by pulling them up with his chains

Uncovering a "treasure" will turn that part of the desert golden

Disclaimer: • The plushie that can be won cannot be used to be reproduced and/or sold • The size of the plushie depends on the character chosen by the winner and by the package size I can send • I am by no means a professional plush maker so I do have the right to decline a character should I not be able to turn it into a plushie • Changes might need to be made to the chosen character for the plushie for more complicated details (I will provide sketches of possible versions) • Minors are permitted to participate, but only with the express permission of a guardian and limited correspondence if they win • You can chose to get a full illustration piece instead of a plushie should you win! (if you are too uncomfortable sharing your adress for example)

Plushie examples:

Questions can be send in via my ask box! I will try to compile them in here or give them a dtiyas specific tag! I'm curious what you guys come up with and most of all.. have fun! :D

PS: I will consider doing two first places (one for writing and one for art) depending on how many entries there are

[mindless-existence1]

Hi! Could I request a reader!insert × Canon!katsuki where the reader keeps a cat in her dorm and Bakugo has to fight it for attention from her?

Summery: Literally just the request, a bit changed but still the same for the most part.

Authors note: This is the first request I am tackling from the list of things I need to write! Sorry for the long wait 😅😅 kinda short but hope you enjoy

You can feel your boyfriends glare from across the small comforter. It was currently a late night movie date at your dorm, Bakugo had let you chose your favorite movie while he got the snacks. At the beginning of the night you had snuggled up with your boyfriend but that quickly change when your cat had decided to lay on you.

He had chosen to lay himself squarely on your stomach, making it difficult to move at all. Not that you would in the first place,hoping to keep him there for as long as possible. Bakugo just rolled his eyes and grumbled something as he moved away from you to the other side of the bed. "Ah suki don't be like that." You whined when he layed down across from you.

"If you want to cuddle your cat instead of me than I don't see shy I'd be other there in the first place." You roll your eyes, but smile. "Didn't know you wanted to cuddle with me so bad." Bakugo groaned in annoance at your words.

"How could anyone hate this little guy. He's so perfect and amazing." Your hand softly pets the back of the soft feline, you coo at him as he purrs. "Oh my God I hate that thing." You gasp loudly in dramatic offense. "How dare you, you big bully! He's literally just a little guy. He's a baby and he's my baby."

Bakugo rolls his eyes but looks over at the cat laying on your chest. He watches the kitty's chest rise and fall as it purrs from your pets. "Besides maybe he'd like you more if you were nice to him." Bakugo grumbles a 'whatever' and fixes his eyes back on the movie.

"Suki why don't you come here and lay with us." Your boyfriend gives you a side eye that makes you laugh. "Hell no." You shake you head playfully. "Common babe just lay next to me and maybe he'll even lay with you."

Your words makes Bakugo think for a moment before he sighs and maneuvers himself back next to you, the spot still warm. You lay your head gently onto his broad shoulders. Ever so slightly, and without your boyfriend noticing, you softly nudge your cat towards Bakugks chest.

Before he can protest you cats is stepping onto the hard tank top covered chest. ,"What the hell?" Despite his protests bakugo doesn't push the cat off, instead looks over at you as he lays down. "See its not so bad." Your boyfriends hands are raised away you his chest, nor sure what to do with a cat.

You chuckle at his behavior, it grows when you see the look of suprise when the feline starts to purr. The blond just looks from the cat to you. "You can pet him babe, just be gentle. And promise not to blow him up." Your joking tone goes unnoticed as Bakugos hands slowly move towards your cat.

The purring intensifys when your boyfriends naturally warm hands reach the cats fluffy sides. You watch him for a moment before discreetly grabbing your phone. Ever so carefully you sneek a photo, it show cases your boyfriend gently petting a very happy cat.

Bakugo looks over at you making you quickly put your phone down. "Do not tell me you just took a picture." Feining innocence you shrug your shoulders, "I didn't take a picture." The blond scoffs. "Don't lie either." You chuckle, putting your phone out of his limited reach.

"I swear to God I'll blow up your phone if you don't delete that!" Although Bakugos angry he keeps his moments small and his voice quieter than normal as to not disturb the sleep cat on his lap. "But it's the cutest picture in the world, it's of my two favorite boys!"

Laughing as you keep your phone high in the air, normally this wouldn't work from how big Bakugo is compared to you, but now you get to go to your settings and do your work. "There now it's my wallpaper!"

Yiu show your phone screen to your boyfriend making the blind yell out. "Like hell it is, give me the phone!" You just laugh, "No way I this is the best wallpaper I could ever have!" Bakugo stops his antics and puts his hand down with a groan.

"Watch your back." He grumbles, you know it'd an empty threat though from the way he says it. The way he's still gently petting the cat on his lap doesn't go unnoticed either.

@phtmmsqrde

Masterlist

Mha Masterlist

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Personal heater

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: Your endometriosis is flaring up again and your boyfriend George is there to help you.

Warnings: none just love and fluff

A/N: Well, my endo got the best of me for last week, I’m cramping like crazy, also I left my old job (but starting new in January) and bit of pressure from the past months demands to be felt, so I’m pretty emotional and alone. So I just imagined what it would be like to have someone, who would take care of me. Calling out to all endo sisters out there - we’re in this together! Even if it sucks.

Please don’t use my writing without my permission!

Pictures found on Pinterest.

———

Your quiet sobs were heard through the hallway of the apartment you shared with George. He wasn’t meant to be home for another two hours, but his training session ended earlier, than he expected. He found you laying in bed, curled like a sad kitty with a hot water bottle on your stomach.

“Aww, darling.. again?” He was immediately at your side, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his warm embrace.

You just nodded, letting out a desperate sigh. Your endometriosis flare ups were more frequent now, also because of the pressure and stress around.

“Shhh… it’s okay. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you..”

Spending the afternoon in his embrace, you managed to sleep for nearly three hours. He always got up only when he felt your water bottle needs to be refilled with another hot water.

Stirring from sleep, you woke up in the evening. “Georgie.. you’re still here.”

“Of course, love, where else would I be? You need me.”

His hand reached for the strand of your hair to get it from your face, which made you smile in comfort.

“I don’t know, maybe you could get bored laying here with me..”

“We talked about this, baby. When you’re hurting, I’m not able to think about anything else. I would ease your pain, if I could and I would make myself suffer instead of you.”

It always made you emotional, because you only knew neglect and abuse from the past relationships.

“I know that you’re going through a lot.. you decided to change your job, leaving your friends, it’s a lot of stress and pressure. And your body is always there to tell you to stop. Like right now.”

“I know.. I really appreciate that you’re in this with me. I can’t even imagine to be alone in this..”

Tears started to well in your eyes, George quickly cupping your face, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Shhh… shh… I’ll always be there for you. No matter what.”

“Thank you..”

“Do you at least feel a little better? I was refilling your hot bottle every while.”

Your smile went wide with appreciation. “Yeah, I feel a lot better now, thanks. It helped me much, that cramps were hell this time.”

George placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his hand caressing your back, ending at your lower back, where he knew it hurts you also. His touch helped every time, it made you relax and feel the warmth of his fingertips.

Letting out a soft hum, you closed your eyes, nearly melting into his embrace.

His other hand wandered down your lower stomach, where the pain was horrible every time, he just placed his hand there, his palm hot, making you groan in relief.

“You’re my personal heater from now on.” You mumbled with a soft chuckle.

“Better than that hot water bottle. You don’t need to refill me.” George laughed softly at his joke.

“Mhm..”

Resting his chin on the top of your head, only thing that was heard was his steady breathing, and your soft hums, slowly lulling you to sleep again.

It made him smile, his heart fluttering at the domestic feeling.

“Love you, baby…” he mumbled into your hair.

“…to the moon and back, Georgie…” and then the sleep overtook your senses again.

[skitchune]

#01 G8 Draw-in-your-style Challenge!

I believe that this is an old challenge, but I decided that there’s no better way to dust off the old gear than seeing the boys in my style. Really liked playing around the filters. I liked given them this old, Sunday Morning Comics style. The grain is just beautiful.

I guess…I should give a little explanation?

Basically, in how I write Hetalia, there was ONE major event that changed the course of their timeline during WW2. Though the world mythos in itself is very different, suffice to say that it was that ONE event that changed the course of their world moving forward. Currently, the Nation Folks assemble as their own private entity to develop livelihood and development projects for underserved communities across the globe, instead of other global matters. Still, many retain a degree of political connection, Nation Folks, in general, all agree that they will always put first the good of humanity over the gain of any singular country. That being said…

🍝 Feliciano Vargas - more actively sexual and flirtatious, pretty much a ladies man, has a problem keeping his dick out of places it shouldn’t be but he’s a lovable tramp regardless and knows that he can get away with a lot. He has a good heart and a good head, but maybe a little bit of too much casual machismo that makes his comeuppance so fun to watch.

📋Ludwig Beilschmidt - still pretty much stiff and serious, efficient but also too much of a stickler, is the youngest of the bunch and always has something to prove, Gilbert helps him here and there but he doesn’t want Gil to meddle, it may frustrate him that everyone treats him like a kid, but he also knows that it sometimes works in his favor being the ‘spoiled’ baby brother to many.

🐉 Seiryuu Honda - to keep things short, Seiryuu is and always has been this universe’s Nation Folk for Japan but Kiku does/did exist for some time for [story reasons] Sei is calm, level-headed but can come off as rather aloof and dazed, he can act a little too familiar with new people and is quite affectionate to friends. He’s a bit of a Casanova and likes the game of courtship like a round of Shogi. In many ways he might not be stereotypical, but in many ways he comes off as traditional and anachronistic.

🤠Alfred Jones - Heroism runs deep in this hot-blooded cowpoke, not the flashy guns or the prestige, but the hard work of running down the pavement for change. He’s charming, mature, headstrong, and value honest and just work. He’s the singular cause of the ONE event, becoming a catalyst to multiple OTHER notable events during WW2. Unfortunately, this has caused him excommunicated from the US government, which suits him fine as he can more actively participate in projects.

🎸Arthur Kirkland - No one fucks around with the ruling class more than Art, who has historically been a thorn in many administrations throughout the colorful history of his homeland. He is a rebel with a cause down to his core, sticking it up anyone’s arse if it means fighting for what’s right. Boston Tea Party? He was also pissing on the cartons before throwing them overboard? The IRA? Girl, he was a damn recruiter. Has he been beaten, threatened, and killed because of his insolence? Sure, but no one is gonna look good as him doing it.

⛱️Francis Bonnefoy - (P.S. I meant to draw him removing his shirt because someone accidentally spilled wine on him) Residing far away from the bustle of Paris, Franc lives the coastal orchard life along the south of France. He’s a country boy at heart who likes living the simple life. He is very introspective, usually keeps to himself, but isn’t really afraid to voice out his measured opinions. Some might say he is a tad but wistful, but many friends know he’s just daydreaming of being back in his orchard surrounded by good company and a glass of the finest wine.

💅Ivan Braginsky - No one can take this MATERIAL GWORL. Daddy Russia is a Mama Bear who claps back at heartless Capitalism and works tirelessly as the acting Chairman of the Union to increase wages and living conditions across the social classes. He is tongue-in-cheek, no nonsense, and fabulous, but above all, a big and caring figure who thinks much for others more than himself sometimes and is just grateful to come home and be wrapped around by a certain Lithuanian’s strong arms—Big Mama deserves some honey after a long day’s work.

🍜Yao Wang - Wang is a funny characters to me. He can come across as uncouth and overfamiliar, but he just doesn’t take life as seriously as the others. It’s been a long ride and there’s too much more ground to cover than he wishes to put the effort into. He likes to complain about the silliest things, but damn, if he isn’t telling the truth every time he opens his mouth.

Alternate gradient map styles under the cut

[13hoax]

holiday shopping with bf!matt ⋆ ⁺₊❆ . [ wc: 685 ]

౨ৎ facing the foggy window, you wipe away just enough to watch matt slowly approaching the car. when the door opens, you’re met with an icy breeze paired with matt’s face flushed pink from the cold.

“thank you, for making the brave sacrifice of warming the car up,” he says while rubbing his hands together, trying to gather any source of warmth.

“yeah, you owe me. it’s freezing out here, even with the heat on full blast,” you reply with short laughter.

matt promptly starts the car and reverses unsteadily, from the amount of snow blocking the driveway. after about 10 minutes of driving, you both are greeted with christmas lights that lined the exterior of the local shopping mall. while matt tries to find a parking spot in the midst of holiday chaos, you quietly watch through the frosty window as kids run into piles of snow surrounding the building. observing them are their parents who stand and grip onto their hot coffee cups, and everyone is fitted in colorful hats, mittens and coats.

matt parks the car, and turns over to you slightly, asking if you’re ready to go inside. with a slight nod, both of you step out into the cold. before setting off you readjust your scarf over your mouth, to hopefully shield some of the winter wind from your face.

“here,” matt sighs while tossing his mittens over the hood of the car, “don’t owe you anymore,” he says with a slight smile.

౨ৎ walking through the front door, your attention goes straight to the bookstore. every time you come to the mall you promise to only ‘look’ at the calico critters, you and matt know that’s a reoccurring lie. you’re supposed to be shopping for your family and friends. but how could you not visit your favorite fixation at any given opportunity?

matt knows your fate and follows you up the escalator to the bookstore. browsing the aisles carefully, you spot the section you’re looking for. leaning over, you pick up a family of cats. taking a moment to admire the box, in awe you quickly turn to show matt,

“this is the cutest thing ever, aren’t they so cute??”

he can hear the excitement in your voice and decides to play along with your slight obsession, “yes they’re so cute, they would look very cute under the christmas tree.” he watches are your eyes light up.

before you’re able to say anything else he adds on softly, “under the christmas as a present for someone else maybe? that is why we are here y’know..”

your smile slowly fading, you simply turn away from him and put the box back on the shelf. not willing to beg him and argue his reasoning why you’re at the mall on a busy holiday weekend.

he notices and turns your head back towards him, “it could be under our christmas tree if..”

“if?” you interrupt trying to hide the pout in your lip.

“you know what i want to hear,” he says tilting his head up while showing that smile he knew would get you to do whatever he wanted.

you softly punch his shoulder and look up to his eyes, “put it under the tree first, and then i’ll tell you anything you want to hear.”

he continues to stare down at you, hopeful to get some sort of reaction that would lead to your defeat to him. but instead he’s left with a grunt from your mouth and a prompted head shake that silently scolds him from thinking you’d be so easy to break.

breaking eye contact, you brush past him swiftly. matt quickly takes his phone out to snap a quick picture of the box before he’s met with your hand, grabbing him and dragging him into the next aisle.

he follows your lead with full commitment, with rolled eyes and a smile slowly appearing on his face. little did you know he would come back later to buy the family of tiny cats for you, and he took a picture to make sure he got exactly the ones you wanted.

⋆❅* this is a entry for @mattscoquette & @letstrip13‘s writing comp! i’m new to writing on here, so pls be kind & give rylee & mae a follow!

[dood-itsradical]

Same Difference.

Pairing: Jake Kim x F!Reader

Summary: Never the one to speak of your father, Jake beat you up to it. Finding the irony of the situation.

Genre/Trope: Fluff, established relationship, friends to lovers.

Details: 1.1k words, tomboy!reader, f/name stands for father's name, reader's dad is gen 0 hotshot.

A/n: It's only been two days since I last posted. I'm just itching to write/post and not doing it actually makes me tweak. I love feeding y'all 😔 As always I don't do requests.

Masterlist

"Hellooo...! Earth to (Name)."

The snapping finger finally released yourself from your daydream.

"Huh?" You turned to Jake. "Oh, sup J." You brushed your hair back.

"You alright? How far are you?" He leaned on the desk to your side. You shake you head, ignoring his question. "Sorry, what were we talking about?"

"Right." He nodded, decided not to pry on you further. He gestured the boxes and files, "You were helping me getting rid of these junks?"

Giving him a weird look as you put two and two together since it's obvious that he could've just given this task to anyone.

"If you wanna hang you could've just said so, you know." You deadpanned.

He shrugged innocently, "Guilty but I wanna be careful. See if there's some stuff I might wanna keep."

You grimaced, pulling a grin. "Might."

"Might." He cringed. "Because see this." He pulled out old photos to you. Most of them were Gapryong Kim, no doubt. Few were him with other folks.

You took them from his hand, looking closely for yourself, "What are you hoping to find? I thought you hated the guy."

"Can't a guy look around without feeling bitter? I ain't a sissy."

His casual reply made you rolled your eyes. But you get him. And good for him for getting over the grudge. Or not. It's no rocket science that he's just hiding it for the sake of his image. Especially to you. To anyone, really.

"Huh."

"What?" You turned at him.

"Didn't know he and (F/Name) knew each other. Not surprised but, damn."

Your brows lit up but luckily he didn't notice. You leaned closer towards him to take a good look at what he meant. And well what'd you know? His old man and your old man standing together.

"You...know him?" Jake nodded, "Not much. But I heard enough. I always wanna learn (F/Name) fighting style. That fist. I just couldn't get it right." He formed his own fist, demonstrating his failed attempt.

Your gaze trailed at his body posture curiosity. You take notes to what he lack. Almost as if you're be able to scan him right here and then.

"Like this." You instead automatically showed him how it's done without feeling like you're showing off. You aren't. You're just show what you know. So forming a fist of your own, you leaned your upper body forward slightly and push the air, mimicking a subtle punch.

"This?" He followed you, again still getting it wrong. You shook your head, scratching your neck, "It's a bit complicated. I don't know how to explain."

Jake grinned and relaxed his body once more. "Don't be like that. Teach me. You know didn't you? I've never seen you kick ass up close before, it's not fair."

You only chuckled and continue with the junks. But does he stop talking about (F/Name) after that? No. And it confuses you. What did he see in your father that you don't? To you, he was just a guy with knowledge to pass down before he grow old. But an old fashioned influencer? You legit thought the guy was a nobody. He was an isolated man. Respect or feared by many. Never in your life thinking he'd get out there. Let alone having friends. Friends are too generous. Colleagues are more like it.

"Does he...have any kid?" You didn't know why you asked that, but you were mindful enough be vague about it. You were quite curious now that you know your pop was, or still is a big shot. Might as well use the privilege by hearing it from Jake.

He nodded, tossing the papers into the burning barrel. "One. A son. Never seen him. People said he's good too. His first kill was when he was nine."

Your face hardened. First kill. Nine years old. You really didn't wanna hear about that. Seems like words do come around here. And a son. People refer you as 'the son'. It makes you wonder if that's what your father rather see you as or you just look like one. Besides, you hardly get by proper friends back then. Son or daughter, same difference. They were all afraid of him. The thought still makes you slightly somber. Your movement slowed.

Jake notices but continue, "Got something you wanna share? I won't bite. I'll get it if you have a bitter pasts with him. Consider how knowledgeable you are." He tossed the last one in his hands then sit down on a portable chair. "But I'm curious about what you've learnt. Hell, I'm not gonna lie, I'm very curious. So...why not be a doll and share it? With your favourite boy Jakey?"

Your solemnity faded, replaced with a snicker, "'Jakey'? You really know how to persuade me. You persuade better than girls do."

"Yes, well, it's part of the big deal." He lays out his one-liner like winning an award. You laughed, tossing the papers towards him but missed completely as they flew to the opposite direction. "Oh my God. You're not gonna stop using that, are you?"

He laughed with you, leaning back only to lose his balance and landed his back on the ground. You both shared another round of laughter.

"Okay but seriously. I can't know?" He kept himself laying on the ground for a bit, eyes stayed on you.

"I never said that. I'll be honoured to teach you." You sighed, stretching your arms. "Besides, I hate to keep you in the dark. We're friends-"

"Boyfriend and girlfriend." He quickly corrects you.

"Right, sorry. And I'm too guilty for not telling you that (F/Name) is actually my dad."

He nodded, "Yeah, I totally get that. I'd be to- wait." He paused, "...What??" now standing up to look at you properly. He comes forward and grasps your shoulder firmly with intense eyes. "Please. Teach me."

Save to say he took it pretty well. And as promised during your spare time you spar with him by teaching him what your father had taught you. Seeing him so concentrate surely piqued your interest. You have so much to focus on. From fixing his postures and techniques to his constant shirtless, sweaty, covered-in-tattooed self.

"That's it for today." You exhaled, wiping your sweat with a cloth.

"You go ahead, I'll meet you inside later." He insisted. But you didn't leave yet. "You could use the break too. I hate to...hit the shower alone." You muttered, hoping he didn't hear that part. But he did, now staring at you like a deer caught in a headlight. Now you feel embarrassed. You're no better than him. Flustered as he is.

"Nevermind, um, forget I said that." You turn your head sheepishly. He was quick to catch up with you. "No, no. I'll come too."

"No, it's fine-"

"I'm coming, no take backs. You, me, shower. Yes? Yes. Okay." He fastened his pace, pulling you by his arm effortlessly. He's totally gonna be the death of you.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Can you do a fic where Dallas or Sodapop argues with reader's dad (reader has daddy issues)

Summary: Dallas gets into an argument with your dad Warnings: bad parent, reader has daddy issues, confrontation, smoking, Author's Note: i wrote this for dally cuz this is a more dally thing to do yk. this is lowkey a little bad because i have to get back in the groove of writing.

As the toughest in the gang, Dallas makes it his personal job to stick up for the stragglers in the group. Johnny owes a lot of his life to Dallas, who's fished him out of many sticky situations, but thats just who Dally was. His kindness came in layers, peeling back over time and care. He would never lord over the fact that he can swing a meaner punch than you, but instead helped you cultivate a skill that could up your survival. Often, Dallas grit his teeth together in frustration, watching you hold back tears from another rough day with your father, but he held back out of respect for you and your family. Today was no different, almost. You plopped down on the curb beside him, eyeing him and his cancer stick over. He passed it to you before turning his eyes back to the horizon. You inhaled, the earthy and cheap cigarette smoke corroding against your throat. You ashed it against the cement before handing it back. "What's on your mind, doll?" He asked, after a fermata of silence. You shook your head. "Nothin'" "Don't lie to me," He said, no malicious intent in his voice. "Just the usual" You mumble against the thick fabric of your winter sweater. "What'd he do this time" He asked, putting out the tired cigarette and turning his attention to you fully. The smoke curled around him in long and thin loops and made him look more heavenly than a greaser. You smiled at the thought and felt the tears fall because of your squinting eyes. "Just blew up on me again, for no reason," You sobbed a bit, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes. "No reason?" He asked and you nodded. "Oh well," You sighed, "Can't do much about it," You said, voice breaking, dropping your head into your lap. "Oh, bullshit. C'mon," He got up quickly and grabbed your arm. You stumbled behind him. "What are you doing?!" You asked, eyes wide. "I'm gonna chew him out, 'cuz apparently his mother never did," He said, exasperated. You decided to not point out the irony and followed along in silence. Dallas knocked against the worn door aggressively. There was no answer at first but you rolled your eyes and knocked again. Your dad opened the door, an annoyed expression etched on him and deep on the wrinkles of his expression. "What?" He asked, deadpan and blunt. "The fuck is wrong with you?" Dallas spat, his New York accent poking through. "What!?" He repeated, shocked. "What the HELL is wrong with you?" He shouted, pushing your dad against the shoulders, squaring him up. "Young man, listen here-" He scrambled backwards, utterly caught off guard. "No, YOU listen here you little shit," Dallas started, "I don't got the goddamn time to deal with everyone's problems here. So you better shut your damn mouth around Y/n, cuz if I get one more damn WORD about what you're doing again, I'm going to knock your fucking block off." Without another word, he stormed out while dragging you behind and slammed the door. "Jesus Christ, Dallas!" You gasped. "Yeah, yeah," He said, before turning to you. "Look, doll, I know that doesn't make 100% sure he won't do it again, but tell me if he makes you cry again and I'll follow through, promise" He said, patting you on your shoulder before taking off. "Thanks Dal," You called after him and he sent you a lopside grin as he walked away.

[txjuns]

That’s so true

Pairing: reader x Heeseung

Inspired by “That’s so true - Gracie Abrams”

I highly recommend listening to it while reading this

Synopsis: You and Heeseung had been broken up for almost two months. You were highschool sweethearts. When both of you went to college, things got harder on both of you. You couldn’t see each other because you were constantly busy, so you both just decided to end it.

Warnings: angst, sexual themes, smut (kinda?), pretty sad imo

A/n: here’s a little something I wrote a while ago while I’m busy writing another part for my Taesan fic.

Night of the break-up

You and Heeseung were laying on the hood of his car, watching the stars. The cold air was nipping at your exposed arms which sent a shiver through your whole body. He noticed immediately and pulled you closer.

You looked up at him, a faint smile softened his features.

“I forgot how quiet it is here” he said, his voice low, almost like he didn’t want to disturb the stillness around you.

You nodded against his chest, “You get used to it after a while. The city’s more exciting anyway.”

“It is,” Heeseung admitted, “but it’s not home”

The words lingered in the air between you, heavy and bittersweet. Heeseung had been back in town for just three days, a fleeting visit during winter break. You’ve been counting down the days since he left for college, imagining what it would feel like to see him again, but now that he was here, the reunion felt more fragile than you’d expected. Like something beautiful you couldn’t quite hold onto.

“What’s it like there?” You asked, needing to fill the space between you. “College, I mean.”

He exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. “It’s… different. Fast. Loud. Everyone’s trying to prove something.” He turned his head to look at you, his voice softening. “It’s not bad. Just… not what I thought it’d be.”

You hesitated, then asked the question you’d been avoiding. “Do you think you’ll stay there after graduation?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled you closer. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think I’m supposed to. There’s more opportunities there, you know? But…” He trailed off, his gaze returning to the stars.

You didn’t need him to finish. You knew what he meant—what he wasn’t saying.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling just enough for him to notice. “We knew this was going to happen.”

He looked down at you and you could feel his arms loosening around you. “Y/n—”

“It’s okay,” you repeated, cutting him off. You forced a smile, even though it hurt. “We can’t hold each other back. You have your life, and I have mine. It’s just… not the right time for us.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s over,” he said, his voice urgent. “We’ll find each other again. When it is the right time.”

You looked at him, your heart breaking and swelling all at once. “Promise me?”

He reached for your hand, his fingers lightly threading through yours. “I promise.”

For a moment, you stayed like that, your hands clasped, the stars above you indifferent to the ache in your hearts.

—

You were moping around your apartment, with a ringing in your head. You’ve been stressed, because of all your classes. The lingering feeling from 2 months ago wasn’t helping either.

You and Heeseung haven’t talked since that night. Which was strange, because you both promised to stay in touch. The kiss goodbye at the airport gave you a little bit of hope that things would get better, but now you felt stupid for thinking that. I think about your dumb face all the time.

You looked at your phone and the time read 6:45. You plopped onto your bed, thinking you were going to have an early night. That was until you received a message from Yunjin. “Party tonight. Look hot. It’s not a question.”

You groaned in protest. Promising Yunjin to go to that frat party with her was probably your biggest mistake ever. You didn’t feel like partying at all, let alone get drunk. She never knew when to stop. It was always shot after shot, and not even a sip of water in between. That girl is a real party animal.

—

The music thumped through the walls, a bass-heavy beat that seemed to vibrate in your already aching head. You weren’t sure why you decided to come to the party. You hated these kinds of things, the noise, the press of bodies.

“You need to get out, have fun,” Yunjin said, dragging you out of your sulking state. “I know things are hard right now, but that’s why you need to unwind and set your inner animal free.”

You rolled your eyes at her, “The last thing I want to do to “unwind” is go to a frat party.”

Yunjin grabbed your arm and dragged you into the kitchen, “You need a drink asap.”

As Yunjin was pouring your drink, you saw someone approaching out of the corner of your eye.

“Y/n! You came?” You turned towards the voice and saw Jungwon.

Your eyes widened. “Jungwon? No way!” You squeeled and immediately went in for a hug, nuzzling your nose into his shoulder.

Jungwon is your best friend since your first day of high school. Ride or die homie since day one.

He went off to college 2 hours away. That didn’t stop him from regularly coming to visit. You guys would have sleepovers with Yunjin and Sunoo. Your only two friends who stayed in town.

You pulled away and looked at him in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” You smacked his shoulder.

He let out a chuckle, “I wanted to surprise you,” he had a bright smile on his face and that iconic eye smile. “It was all part of the plan, right Yunjin?”

Yunjin giggled and you smacked her arm too. “You knew about this?!”

“Well it was a surprise,” she said with a warm smile.

You and Jungwon were sitting on the couch, catching up on everything. Yunjin disappeared after saying she needed to dance.

“How is everyone else?” You asked, trying to remeber everyone’s faces. They haven’t had the chance to come visit yet.

“Where do I begin?” He thought for a second. “Niki got an audition to join a major dance crew, Jake is the captain of the college football team, Sunghoon’s ice-skating career is sky-rocketing, Jay is in a band and Chaewon has her own art exhibition.”

Your mouth fell open hearing about your friends’ successes. You felt glad that they were doing well for themselves.

“Oh, and Heeseung is captain of the basketball team” your heart sank when you heard his name.

Jungwon noticed your change in behavior when your head dropped, “Listen, I heard what happened. I’m so so sorry, Y/n.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just stared at your lap.

Jungwon grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. “If it makes you feel better, which it probably won’t, I haven’t talked to him since. None of us have.”

You held onto his hand, “It’s okay. It was bound to happen.”

“Can I get you another drink?” Jungwon said as he stood up.

“That would be lovely, Jungwon. Thank you.” He grabbed the two cups and made his way to the kitchen.

Your head started thumping again so you dropped it onto your hands that were propped up on your knees. The music made it so much worse. You looked around the room, watching people dance against each other, spilling their drinks and some even making out.

Your eyes locked with his. Those eyes were all too familiar. So much so that every inch of pain you felt that night, came rushing back. He had a crooked smile on his lips, that once was yours.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw the girl holding onto his arm. What. The. Fuck.

The girl was beautiful and effortlessly put together, the kind of girl who seemed to belong at parties like this. She leaned into Heeseung’s side , her hand resting lightly on his arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You felt the ground tilt beneath you, the world narrowing to just the two of you. You could still feel the ghost of his promise, whispered under the stars just two months ago: “I’ll come back for you.”

You noticed that he was wearing the leather jacket that you gave him on his birthday. All while his arm was around another woman. You wondered if she could still smell your scent when he wears that.

But here he was, like you were nothing more than a memory.

“Y/n? You okay?” Jungwon’s voice snapped you back to reality. You turned to find your friend watching you with concern, his brows knit together. He handed you your drink.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice hollow. You took a long sip from your cup, hoping it would dull the ache that was spreading through your chest.

You turned back toward Heeseung just in time to see the girl laugh, her head tipping back, and him leaning closer, his expression warm, familiar. I’ve been there too.

You couldn’t watch anymore. “I need some fresh air.” You said and Jungwon pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. You set your cup down on the nearest surface and turned towards the door, the pounding music fading into the background as you slipped outside.

The cold air hit you like a slap, but you welcomed it. You pressed your palms to your face, trying to breathe through the wave of emotions crashing over you—anger, sadness, disbelief.

Two months. That was all it had taken for him to move on.

You heard the door creak open behind you and stiffened. For a second, you thought it might be him, coming after you, but it was Jungwon again.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “He’s here. With someone else.”

Jungwon’s face softened, and he stepped closer, pulling you against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

You let yourself be held, your tears hot against the cold night air. Jungwon’s heart broke when he heard your sobs, so he pulled you even closer. You knew you couldn’t stay here, couldn’t face him again—not tonight, maybe not ever.

You wiped your tear-stained face. Jungwon convinced you to stay since you haven’t seen each other in so long. You just had to avoid him and his new girl. No, I know, I know, fuck off.

—

You’d told Jungwon you wanted to leave, but something in you refused to go. Maybe it was stubbornness, or maybe it was that little, traitorous part of your heart that still wanted to see him—to see if he was happy without you.

You walked into the house and saw Yunjin standing in the corner. You went over to her and she immediately saw your reddened eyes. You caught up on what happened and she gave you a massive hug.

Yunjin was watching you carefully, her eyes darting between you and Heeseung across the room. Finally, she grabbed your arm. “You’re not hiding over here all night. Come on.”

“Yunjin, no,” you hissed, panic flashing across your face.

“Yes,” Yunjin insisted, pulling you toward the kitchen where Heeseung stood with his new girl. You dug your heels into the floor, but Yunjin wasn’t having it. Before you could protest again, you were there, standing just a few feet away from him.

Heeseung looked up, and when his eyes landed on you, his smile faltered for the briefest of moments. But then he recovered, the easy grin returning to his face. “Hey, Y/n,” he said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

Your throat tightened, but you managed a small smile. “Hi, Heeseung.”

The girl turned to look at you, curiosity flickering in her brown eyes. She had the kind of energy that lit up a room—effortlessly magnetic. “Oh, is this Y/n?” she asked, her voice warm and friendly.

You blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

The girl beamed and stuck out her hand. “I’m Karina. Heeseung’s told me so much about you. I’ve been dying to meet you!”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You glanced at Heeseung, who looked slightly uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure how this was going to go. But Karina’s enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

Karina tilted her head, her smile widening. “You’re even prettier than Heeseung said. And let me just say, you have great taste in music—he played me that playlist you made him. Absolute fire.”

You blinked again, caught completely off guard. You glanced at Heeseung, who rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly regretting sharing that detail.

“I—thank you,” you managed, a small laugh escaping your lips despite your true feelings.

Yunjin, sensing the tension easing, jumped in. “Karina, where are you from? You’re not local, right?”

Karina launched into a story about her college and how she’d met Heeseung in one of their classes. As she spoke, you found herself relaxing, drawn in by Karina’s easygoing nature. She was funny, genuinely kind, and effortlessly charming. But I think I love her, she’s so fun. Wait I think I hate her.

You couldn’t help but wonder what Heeseung saw in her that he hadn’t seen in you—or maybe he had, and that’s why he’d chosen someone so different.

But then Karina said something that made you freeze. “You know, Heeseung says he’d never have survived the first semester if it wasn’t for all the advice you gave him. You’re kind of a legend, you know.”

You glanced at Heeseung, who was looking at the floor, his ears turning pink. “I didn’t say it like that,” he mumbled.

Karina laughed, nudging him playfully. “Oh, he totally did. And I get it now—you’re great.”

For the first time that night, you felt a strange sense of peace. It wasn’t the painful confrontation you feared, nor was it the awkward reunion you dreaded. Karina was fun, Heeseung seemed happy, and you realized that he genuinely feels nothing for you now.

Yunjin leaned in, whispering in your ear, “She’s cool, huh?”

You nodded slowly, your lips curving into a genuine smile. “Yeah. She is.” You said, though you hated to admit it.

When you looked back, Heeseung was staring at you. It was as if he could sense every emotion you were feeling. Or he noticed your redened eyes and felt somewhat guilty for what he’d done.

You couldn’t be around them anymore. As much as you like Karina as a person, thinking of them doing the things that you used to do hurt too much.

—

You rembered the night you and Heeseung had your first intimate moment.

It had been late September, the air still warm but tinged with the crispness of fall. You were in Heeseung’s room, a small lamp casting a golden glow across the space. You just returned from one of your long walks around town, the kind where you’d talk about everything and nothing, letting the conversation flow as easily as your laughter.

That night had been different, though. There was a quiet tension between you, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but instead felt electric. You both knew something was shifting, something you couldn’t quite put into words but could feel in the way your hands lingered when you touched or in the way his gaze seemed to hold yours a little longer than usual.

He sat on the edge of his bed, his guitar resting against the wall nearby. You remembered teasing him about his music taste, laughing as he defended his love for cheesy 2000s punk songs. But as your laughter faded, the silence between you grew heavy again, charged with unspoken feelings.

“You’re staring at me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, his lips curling into a small, nervous smile. “You’re beautiful.”

You rolled her eyes, but your heart pounded in your chest. He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours so softly it made you shiver. When he pulled you closer, you didn’t resist.

He presses his lips against your, slow and tentative at first, as if he was testing the waters. But soon, the hesitation melted away, replaced by something deeper, something raw and unguarded. His hands found your waist, your arms looped around his neck, and the rest of the world seemed to blur into nothingness.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice filled with both desire and concern.

You nodded, your cheeks warm but your eyes steady. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

What followed was a dance of discovery, a clumsy but tender exploration of each other. You whispered nervous jokes and stifled giggles as you fumbled with buttons and zippers, the intimacy of the moment both exhilarating and terrifying. He had been so gentle, so careful, checking in with you every step of the way.

Afterwards, you laid tangled together under his blanket, your limbs intertwined as if you were trying to become one. You remembered the way his fingers traced absentminded patterns on your arm, the soft kisses he placed on your forehead, and the way he whispered your name like it was the only word he wanted to say.

“I love you,” he said, his voice so quiet you almost thought you imagined it.

You had looked up at him, your heart full and aching all at once. “I love you too.”

—

You closed the bathroom door behind you and leaned against it, the muffled noise of the party outside suddenly distant. Your hands gripped the edges of the sink as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, your breath uneven. Seeing Heeseung with Karina—laughing, smiling, and fitting so seamlessly into a life that didn’t include you—had been harder than you thought.

There was a knock on the door.

“Occupied,” you called, trying to steady your voice.

“Y/n, it’s me.”

Your stomach sank. Heeseung.

You hesitated, but then you unlocked the door and opened it a crack. He was standing there, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his face drawn tight.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Can we talk?”

You sighed but stepped aside, letting him in. As soon as the door clicked shut, the tension between you were suffocating.

“What’s there to talk about?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“You’re upset,” he said, his voice low.

You laughed, a bitter sound. “Upset? What gave you that idea? The fact that I had to watch you with your new girlfriend all night?”

“Karina’s not my girlfriend,” he said quickly.

“Oh, sure,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “She’s just a random girl you bring to parties and laugh with like she’s the best thing in the world.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened. “She’s a distraction, okay?”

That made you pause. “A distraction?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice rising. “Because it’s easier to pretend I don’t miss you when I’m with her.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. “What?” You whispered, your arms falling to your sides.

“I miss you, Y/n,” he said, his voice breaking. “I miss everything about you. I thought maybe if I… if I tried to move on, it wouldn’t hurt so much. But it does. God, it hurts every day.”

You stared at him, your anger melting into confusion, then something softer. “Then why, Heeseung? Why her? Why didn’t you just call me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Because you told me to let you go. You said we couldn’t hold each other back, remember? I thought I was doing what you wanted. What was best for you.”

You felt tears prick your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I didn’t want you to forget about me,” you said quietly. “I just wanted you to be happy.”

“I’m not happy,” he said, stepping closer. “Not without you.”

The air between you were thick with unspoken words, unprocessed feelings. Heeseung hesitated before reaching for your hand. You let him, your fingers intertwining like they used to.

“I still love you, Y/n,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to stop, and I don’t think I ever will.”

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks, but you smiled through them. “I still love you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you just stood there, holding onto each other like you were the only solid things in a spinning world.

“What do we do now?” You asked, your voice cracking.

He squeezed your hand. “We figure it out. I’ll drive here every weekend if I have to. I’ll write you letters, I’ll call you every night—I don’t care how hard it is. I’m not losing you again.”

Your breath hitched as the tension in the small bathroom became almost unbearable.

He stood so close now, his hand still holding yours, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. His gaze softened as he searched your eyes, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel unsteady.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion, "I mean it. I'll do whatever it takes. Just tell me you'll let me."

Your chest tightened, the intensity of his words pulling you closer to him in ways you couldn't fight. "I don't know how to stop loving you either," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I tried, but I couldn't."

Heeseung's free hand came up to your face, his touch warm and familiar. He cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as though he couldn't believe you were real.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes briefly as your defenses crumbled.

"Then don't stop," he said softly.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft at first, almost like he was afraid you might pull away. But you didn't.

You kissed him back, your arms wrapping around his neck as all the pain and longing of the past months melted into something warmer, something that felt like home.

The kiss deepened, and suddenly, the cramped bathroom didn't matter. He pressed you gently against the sink, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you could feel the way his heartbeat matched yours. Fast, frantic, and filled with everything you hadn't been able to say.

"Y/n," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "God, I missed you."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your forehead resting against his. "I missed you too," you whispered, your hands trailing down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

For a moment, you just stood there, holding onto each other like you were afraid to let go. Heeseung's hands slid up your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of you. You shivered under his touch, your heart racing as he pressed another kiss to you lips, this one deeper, more urgent.

"Are we really doing this here?" You asked breathlessly, a small laugh escaping you despite the intensity of the moment.

He chuckled, his lips brushing against your temple. "I don't care where we are, as long as it's with you."

You felt your resolve dissolve completely at his words. You tugged him closer, your fingers slipping under the collar of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. The sound of the party outside seemed distant now, like you were in your own little world where nothing else mattered.

As the make-out grew more passionate, he lifted you, sitting you on the edge of the sink. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and you could feel the strength of his hold on you, grounding you even as the moment felt overwhelming.

"I love you," he whispered again, his voice a mix of need and reverence.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice breaking slightly as you pulled him closer.

For the first time in what felt like forever, everything else faded away. There was no distance, no uncertainty-just the two of you, finding each other all over again in a moment that felt both fragile and infinite.

He pressed his hips into yours, and you could feel his length growing against you with every kiss and touch. His hand played with the hem of your skirt before he lifted it.

His lips traveled down your neck as he rubbed his thumb over your clothed heat. You pressed your hips forward, into his touch. You craved it.

His other hand pulled your straps down your shoulders, exposing your chest, your shirt now sitting around your waist.

“God, how I’ve missed every part of your perfect little body.” He whispered in a low tone.

He pulled your panties aside, and rubbed circles into your clit. You let out a soft moan as your head fell back onto the mirror.

You were now onto your third orgasm, bent over the sink as he pounded into you hard. His one hand was in your hair, forcing you to look at him in the mirror, the other had a tight grip on you hip.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, his head falling back. He could feel you tighten around him as you neared your orgasm. He was close too.

Your breathing was heavy and the pleasure was overwhelming. You let out a stiffled moan as you felt a knot in your stomach, threatening to explode.

[ray935sworld]

A cozy evening, wine and a kiss

rosquez reconsilation fluff

21.12 winter writing

Vale knew he had been lucky in life.

He had managed to get a the top of his beloved sport for years. He had carved his name in the history books, never to be forgotten. He had gone done as a legend.

Most of it was hard work. Some of it was a coincidence and a good chunk was just an insane amount of luck. He had been at the right time at the right place to say the right thing.

But no amount of luck could explain how he ended up here.

He was sat in his own living room, a big house, in Italy. Still it was cozy and soft.

It was a calm winter evening. Christmas was almost there. He would soon dive back into the Christmas hazzle of preparation. It was cold enough that he refused to go outside if it could be avoided.

But right now there was no cold. And it wasn't just the fire that was crackling in the background of the barely lit room. The flames were dancing in a secret rhythm. He could see the flickering but he didn't care.

Instead he was too focused on the reason why there was a warmth in his heart and his whole body. It felt like his organs had been wrapped in the softest blanket imagineable. It was a feeling he was willing to chase for the rest of his life.

He looked at him - the reason. The reason for everything. The reason for his happiness, his insanity, his sadness, his hate, his love, his luck, his believe in love and a god and everything good.

Marc.

Not Marquez. Not the ant. Not a racer.

Just Marc.

And he wanted to do anything to make Marc his Marc again. He wanted to be greedy and just take. He wanted to take until there was nothing left to grip.

But he didn't want that. It felt too forcefully, too much anger, too much of the things he banned to the past. He didn't want to prove anything.

He wanted to give in. He wanted to lean in his touch and make him take everything he wanted. He was willing to give him anything and more.

He looked at him.

Marc sat next to him, in a chair that had a slight ankle to it so they were slightly facing each other.

His eyes were shining, reflecting the flames of the fire. He was speaking. Something about Shira and Stitch. Vale was too fascinated on his voice to actually hear him say a word.

He was holding a glass of wine in hand. His delicate finger were placed on the glass. His thumb pressed against the curve, his pointy finger softly wrapped against it.

He looked gorgeous.

His other hand was resting on his own thigh. Sometimes he lifted it to underline with words with gestures.

Vale nodded along, agreeing, asking question. He would do anything to keep him talking. He just wanted to keep him here, at his side, as long as possible.

They already had dinner together. Vale had cooked. It was the perfect date. And Marc did notice all the thoughtfull gestures and little thing the older man had remembered to make it as perfect as it had been.

It had been their first date. Not just their first date after everything went down, but their first real date. Vale wanted to do it right this time and it showed.

But now Marc saw Vale's soft gaze slightly unfocused. He looked like he was fixed on him but not in a predatory way. Not like it used to.

He looked at him in a way he had never seen before. Like he was everything. Like he was the sun and the moon and everything else.

He giggled softly at that thought and decided to be brave. He leaned over and whispered. "You're staring Vale"

"I know" he replied. His voice held no emotions other than honesty and love, careful bleeding through, as if he wasn't sure if it was okay. "You are very handsome. The most gorgeous man I've ever seen. How could I not watch your every move?"

"You're being very sweet tonight... I like that" he had been thinking about a more sassy comeback, one that borders on being rude. But he didn't. He didn't want to destroy this moment.

He could test the limit later. In a few weeks or months when they stood more firmly. And he was sure this later would come sooner or later.

"So, sweet Vale... Tell me what you want. What do you wish for?" he asked and leaned in some more. His arms were stabilizing him on his chair. He crossed the short distance between them almost completly.

There were still a few centimeters, but not much.

"I... Nothing. I'm happy to have you here." "I know but I also know that there is something else that you want." he said teasingly, because after all he still knew him.

"Maybe but that doesn't matter now. You're drunk. I'm not-" "You promised me honesty. I'm asking you what you want. Right now. I'm not saying I'm going to give it to you. I'm not drunk, Vale. Slightly typsy at most. So please..."

He put his hand on his face. He felt his cheeks for the first time in years. He felt his stubbles against his hand. He looked at him. He noticed all the signs that time had passed, all the little detail were time carved it away through them.

He looked at him and didn't saw the man that used to hurt him. He saw someone else. Someone he would trust. Someone he could love again.

"Please talk to me, Vale. Talk to me" he said and felt the older man leaning into his touch. "You are so beautiful" he replied. "You already said that." "It's true. You are so beautiful. It drives me crazy. I just want to kiss you again. Just once. But I don't want to rush this. I want to make it right. I want to make up for everything and show you how much you mean to me"

Marc smiled and nodded. He accepted.

"If you're afraid it's to soon for you to kiss me, I'll kiss you" he offered and before he got an answer he leaned in.

He kissed him.

It was one of the few things he did slowly, without going in head first. He was careful, soft, no demand, just looking for how it would go.

And he met Vale as he did. His Vale. The real Vale.

He felt how careful he moved his head to make it easier for him to kiss him. He was making things easier nit harder.

He felt his dry lips against his own and didn't mind. He felt his skin heating up at every movement and just grinned.

He was happy.

He had his Vale back. And Vale had his Marc back.

based on this

[averygrambsbankaccount]

Can you write a lyrason fic,they in the grayson's birthday please.

yes sure! I decided to combine this request with this one and also change it a bit (oops!)

(yes I know I did spin the bottle instead of drink or dare) (im sorry that it’s bad)

spin the bottle!

Lyra and Grayson weren’t exactly dating, at least not in a way that the definition of the word dating covered. They tiptoed around each-other, sneaking longing glances, and maybe one or two more stolen kisses. Or three.

If Lyra was honest, she’s a bit tired of the game. Maybe she does just want Grayson, the arrogant asshole he is, to be her actual…boyfriend.

Grayson’s birthday party wasn’t planned by him, which was obvious if you’d ever met him. His hatred of people would have never allowed something like this. Clearly, his brothers had planned this as some kind of cruel joke on him, and now he had to stand there like a puppet in his thousand dollar suit and greet everyone they invited to the party.

Honestly, Lyra was pretty happy about her invitation. The party was actually fun. She’d never been to a rich person party before, and it was certainly something else.

Maybe the most fun part, though, was watching Grayson stand there uncomfortably, his strong shoulders stiff and his back as straight as a ruler. He greeted the weird rich people who walked past him into the surrounding area, full of fairy lights and tables and food. Whoever had designed this backyard pool type party was a genius.

Lyra sat at a table by herself, sipping some weird rich people drink she assumed had alcohol in it but wasn’t entirely sure about, and she watched the blonde Hawthorne pretend to be a people person.

It’s funny how he tries to hide his awkwardness, she thought.

Someone slid into the seat across from her, and it was none other than the Hawthorne heiress, holding a champagne flute. Her brown hair cascaded down her shoulders and she looked dazzling as ever.

“You should go over and talk to him, you know,” Avery said, looking down into the depths of her drink.

“And why would I do that?” Lyra crossed her arms and leaned back in the cushioned outdoor chair. Man, these things are comfortable.

“Because you like him. And he likes you. And this forced birthday party is a really good chance to make him less uptight.” The heiress took a sip of her champagne and wiggled her manicured eyebrows.

“No way,” Lyra picked at her nails. “…Do you really think so?”

It was no secret that Avery and Jameson and most other Hawthornes and Hawthorne adjacents shipped Grayson and Lyra, but Lyra wanted to hear confirmation from the girl sitting beside her.

“Totally!” Avery leaned forward. “Do you see the way he looks at you?”

Lyra bites her lip. “Yeah.” She says, but quiet enough that it’s possible Avery didn’t hear.

“Just…give it a shot, Lyra.” Avery stands and walk back towards Jameson, who’s talking to Xander by the pool.

Lyra takes a deep breath and one more drink of her maybe alcoholic drink and stands to walk towards the stoic blonde.

I can do this. I can do this. Lyra played encouraging messages on a loop in her brain.

“Grayson.”

“Lyra.” He turned to her, the barest of smiles on the corners of his lips, but that was often the best you could get out of Grayson Hawthorne.

“I-“ Lyra cut herself off, realizing she didn’t actually know what she was going to ask.

Her eyes scanned the area around them, landing on a group of younger attendees playing spin the bottle on the grass. Lyra wasn’t a particularly crazy party type person, but she did enjoy taking risks from time to time.

A smirk appeared on her face. “Come here, Grayson.” She grabbed his arm and led him over the group.

“Could we join, please?”

“Yeah, sure!” A girl in beautiful designer gown that was definitely getting grass stains at the moment said without looking up. When she did, she seemed absolutely shocked at the man standing with Lyra. “And…him, too?”

Lyra couldn’t blame her; no one would expect Grayson Hawthorne to play spin the bottle.

“No, no.” Grayson backed away shaking his head. “Sorry. There must have been a misunderstanding.” He gave Lyra a glare.

“Sorry, he’s shy.” Lyra smiled sweetly at them, then turned to Grayson.

“Could you please, please, please, please play?” She put her best puppy dog eyes, the ones she had only ever used on her mom for extra dessert. “For me?”

She didn’t give him a choice or a chance to respond. She simply dragged him to the ground beside her, in the empty space left in the circle and said “We’re playing.”

If Lyra could have taken a picture of Grayson’s surprised face in that moment, she would’ve framed it and hung it on her wall.

She gripped onto his hand as tight as she could, her knuckles going white. She would not back down, she’s gone too far. If she doesn’t commit, she’ll be just as much of a coward as she was before Avery convinced her.

Grayson kept trying to pull away, but she refused to give in.

The bottle was spun in the middle of the big circle. It landed on two random people, two more random people, and then…Lyra.

Her breathing sped up. I did not think this through, did I?

This might be the day Lyra becomes a devout worshipper, because only God could have given her the luck it required to have the bottle spun again and land on the man beside her; Grayson Fucking Hawthorne.

Lyra didn’t want to waste time, but she did stall a bit while turning to him. Even though they had kissed before, she was still inexplicably scared. 

Her courage came in remembering Avery’s words. She liked him and he liked her, and she could make this mean something.

She grabbed his face and kissed him to the sounds of the group cheering them on. He was silent before, but his lips were anything but. Grayson kissed her back fiercely. He kissed her like no one else was there.

When Lyra pulled back, she giggled, and she looked over to see Grayson having that familiar almost-smile on his face.

“Birthday boy!” The boy sitting beside Grayson clapped on the back and laughed. “Nice, man!”

Grayson didn’t respond to him or any of the others in the group cheering on his sudden break of character, instead just looking intensely at Lyra. All these people here knew him as the stoic business man who takes himself too seriously. So to see Grayson Hawthorne make out with a girl? In front of a crowd?

Well that’s a once in a lifetime chance. That’s something.

And when Lyra led him away and they went behind a wall and kissed again she knew it was something. When they kissed for so long they forgot where they were and her head was spinning and people were looking for Grayson to sing happy birthday, she knew it was something. When Grayson walked out with her, holding her hand and not even telling her to fix her smudged lipstick, she knew it was something.

[rizzanon]

loving undoing fate so far!! this recent snippet of the og timeline is scratching an itch in my brain for angst and i love it 💕💕

I’m pretty sure ppl have mentioned it, but MC’s fate would’ve been avoidable if someone had actually properly trained her (looking at Babs in particular rn, seeing how she took training and giving her mantle to others a lot more seriously— both in canon and in this fic). Like… even if they didn’t have time (which is still bull, but wtv), Tim was literally sent to Paris to train in his early robin years, they could’ve sent her to train with someone else.

also, as much as i enjoy seeing dick suffer and become brutal in grief over his siblings, i think it’s a bit odd that he’s acting like he knew her all that well, considering how he didn’t even know where her room was or how to comfort her and talk to her after her argument with damian when she was 16 in the new timeline. I doubt much changed in those years from the og timeline. (This is not a nitpick of your writing, i just think it’s interesting he doesn’t acknowledge this, compared to Jason, who straight up says he failed her—Though, maybe it’s easier for him to see since he knew what it was like to actually be close to her before his death?)

sorry i rambled, but amazing work! i’m excited my holiday will be filled with reading this series!

-🥐 (i hope there’s no croissant anon yet, i chose this since, like several have mentioned, the mlb allegations and MC-Marinette allegations are strong lol)

glad you like the story so far <33

i wouldn’t say that barbara didn’t take mc’s training seriously. she did, though at the time when mc did decide to become batgirl, barbara was still going through a lot of things (like joker shooting her making her paralysed, her no longer being able to be batgirl and instead is still trying to find her footing as oracle) all of these factors build to her initially being unsupportive of mc taking up the batgirl mantle. but she realises later how much mc reminded barbara of her past self, which is why barbara gave in and helped her. but here’s the thing. technically, barbara isn’t responsible for mc. because mc is bruce’s child.

if you read batgirl 2000, you can see barbara was more involved in helping cassandra settle in with her vigilante work. and that’s because cassandra is barbara’s ward. so she is (and has to be) responsible for cassandra. and with cass losing her ability to read other people’s body language and having to relearn defense skills, i guess barbara shifted her focus onto cass more.

more of barbara and mc’s relationship will be explored in chapter 5/6 so maybe when i do post that, this will make more sense…¿?

also, i wouldn’t say that mc’s fate would have been unavoidable if she’d been trained properly. she is trained to a certain extent. mc was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. going in and fighting all those thugs whilst recovering from prior injuries she got from past patrols/missions, she pushed herself too much and was unable to recover and avoid the gunshots (i would say she was holding out on her own quite well before she was shot)

and tbf, i wouldn’t say dick is acting like he knew mc all too well (unless my writing does depict him that way, then mb 😭) i would say he’s still grieving and in denial that someone else—in his family—died. that’s his way of coping with mc’s death. he’s furious, he’s upset, he’s grieving, but there’s nothing he can do to make himself feel better, because he knows deep down that he failed mc. he’s just trying to come to terms with it i guess.

(mc is NOT marinette btw 🤨😒)

[fanficbrewery]

How veil guard characters react to you sleeping on Assan headcanons

i've had this idea in my head for awhile now so i decided to go ahead and do it instead of waiting for requests lol

the intro takes place after the siege of weisshaupt where yall haven't confessed yet but the tension is there its kinda long you don't have to read all of it but i was excided to write it.

GN reader

Intro:

your head aches with an unbearable pain that comes and goes, maybe you were hit in the head by one to many darkspawn but you shouldn't be surprised, weisshaupt was hard one everyone not just for you. ....Weisshaupt... the screams of all the wardens dying replays in your head. Those people signed up to fight the blight and dark spawn not a god let alone 2.

Seeing Davrins defeated face at every new warden body you stumbled across makes you feel guilty. guilty for disturbing Solas's ritual and causing the gods to break free. Guilty for Davrin and Lucanis going at each others throats for messing up. You should have payed more attention to your team, made sure they were ready for this fight. But both Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain walked away alive. You replay the entire battle in your head over and over again trying to figure out what you did wrong with little success.

The blinding pain in your skull returns once more, You roll to your other side in your bed hoping to find a more comfortable position to sleep in. The pain shoots from one side to the other making you sigh. "Well this isn't working" you say, getting up from your bed with difficulty. you stumble into the hallway to the railing of the second floor of the lighthouse. Quiet.. everyones asleep.

you push open the doors to the light house and step into the light of the fade. Right.. time doesn't move here.. its always light outside, your never gonna get used to that. As you suspected no ones awake its quiet almost to quiet. your starting to wonder why you came out side before

*squawk* you look around and see the young griffon standing a little away from you, right outside Davrins room as always. The little griffon tilts his head at you like asking what your doing up. "Hey Assan" you walk over to him, sticking out your hand to pet him, scratching behind his ear just how he likes. You realize just how soft his feathers are, your starting to get sleepy just petting him.

before you can get up to try to go to sleep again Assan gently bites on of your fingers before laying down almost trying to get you lay down with him. Does he know your having difficulty sleeping? is he smart enough to realize that?. He looks at you with these puppy eyes purring and gently gnawing on your finger. Aw what the hell he might just help you sleep. laying down on the hard ground and using Assan as a pillow is the last thing you remember before slipping into sleep

Bellara

Working on the Nadas Dirthalen was tiring. she had been working for HOURS trying to ask the right question and getting the spirit to cooperate with her but she's had no luck

maybe getting something to eat will help? yeah getting a snack sounds good. and then maybe a nap.

she leaves her room, walking to the kitchen when..

was rook curled up with Assan? or was she seeing something else in her peripheral?.

Turning around to see you sleeping with Assan is the cutest thing she's seen in awhile

after Weisshaupt she was honestly worried about you. She thought you might be taking what happened hard and blaming yourself for Ghilan'nain getting away but if it wasnt for you, you guys wouldn't have even killed her archdemon

she's happy your getting rest you deserved. you've helped her and the team so much she knows you deserve the rest and she doesnt dare trying to wake you up

she quickly goes to her room and grabs a blanket she wasn't using and carefully drapes it over your sleeping body, giving Assan a pet while he's asleep to

she gush's about how cute you are once more before you going back to her room to sleep herself, forgetting all about her snack

Davrin

when he wakes up the first thing he noticed was that Assan wasn't at the foot of his bed like usual. Where has his feathery companion gone?

getting up and seeing his door open was the first sign of trouble, when the hell did Assan learn to open doors??

he gets outside and immediately starts scanning for Assan

when he finds him he definitely didn't expect to see you as well

he comes over to inspect what's going on he finds you fast asleep face first in Assans feathers

he'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat or two

Davrin likes you, he hasn't tried to be subtle about it either. One of the things that draws him to you is how good you are with Assan even if he thinks you spoil him to much

seeing you like this with Assan might just solidify that fact for him

he decides he cant just leave you sleeping on the ground like this. Assan might be comfy but the ground beneath you sure isn't

he picks up your sleeping form despite Assans complaining squawk and takes you up to his room, Assan following close behind.

he lays you down on his bed. Assan jumps up and lays down right by your feet. "cute" Davrin thinks to himself

you didn't even stir when he picked you up, you must have been really tired

....maybe its because of weisshaupt or what happened after it.

he should go apologize to Lucanis, take something off your plate. he stands up walking to the kitchen leaving you to rest.

emmrich

he had been up late looking for any information he could find about the hand of glory you all had recovered from the Necropolis

it was old magic now a days forbidden from being preformed so his knowledge on it was limited

he had sent Manfred to recover a book he lent to Bellara awhile ago now. What is taking him so long?. Did he get lost around the light house perhaps?

he walked outside the light house to see Manfred hovering over something. His skeletal form blocking Emmrich's view but he could see somebody laying on the ground

was somebody hurt?!. he ran over to assist but it was just you sleeping on Assan

while he was happy you weren't hurt he thought that surely there were more comfortable places to sleep then on a messy griffon

*hiss* Manfred let out a concerned hiss while pointing at your sleeping forms

"yes i see them Manfred, what shall i do? i don't think sleeping on Assan is very sanitary but i don't wish to disturb their rest"

he asked Manfred Not expecting much of a reply. He already knew what he was going to do

he reached down gently shaking your shoulder. "rook, dear, wake up"

you wake up already missing the little sleep you were able to catch. "oh uh hi Emmrich" sleeping on Assan probably wasn't the best idea, your back was already hurting.

"rook are you alright? why are you sleeping on the ground?" his face was full of concern "i uh couldn't sleep I guess Assan looked to comfy"

Emmrich sighed at your response "rook do you remember me offering to teach Bellara some breathing techniques to help her relax?"

"yeah i do why?" you responded still a little disoriented

"why don't i teach you some as well to help you sleep of course. Manfred could make us some calming tea as well" he offered his hand to help you up

"actually... that be really nice Emmrich..thanks" Emmrichs face got hot at your sincerity but covered it with a smile

"of course rook its nothing, now lets get you inside"

you both walk into the light house Manfred trailing behind leaving a grumpy Assan outside

Harding

"Mmmm..Ahh" Harding stretched, standing up from her bedroll

she was finally starting to get used to having dreams now. Even starting to feel well rested after waking up

she was planning on going to Rivain and training with the lords of fortune to keep practicing her new magic. Weisshaupt was hard and she wanted- no needed to be better for the next fight with the gods

she wonders if maybe you would like to come with her. She knows you took Weisshaupt hard, it was hard for everyone but she cant even imagine what your feeling right now

it would be fun to get you out of the light house and doing something that wasnt trying to save the world

she leaves her bedroom, walks into the light house, up to your room and.. your not here? huh weird maybe your in the kitchen

she leaves and walks up the steps past the workshop and that's when she sees you and Assan

"... oh my gosh rook are you sleeping on Assan?" she chuckled walking up to you and Assan seeing you completely knocked out

... you looked so peaceful sleeping and pretty too..... ok she's just being creepy now isn't she

when she was in the inquisition she worked as a scout, she's slept on grass, rocks, pavement, and sometimes even trees. She knows that no matter what it ends in a hurting back and neck. It'd be best to wake you up now

"hey..hey rook" she gently shook your shoulder waking you up

"huh- oh uh hi Harding"

"morning sleepy head, what'cha doing sleeping on Assan?" she asked smiling down at you

"i uh couldn't sleep but Assan is just really soft" Harding giggled "well if you keep doing that your back is gonna hurt like hell, come on ill try making you some coffee, and ill make you my ham and jam slam"

"thanks Harding id love that" you stand up. Yup Harding was right your back is starting to hurt already

"I was also going to go to the lords of fortune to train again you should come with me yeah?" she asked walking to the kitchen

"yeah id like to spend some time with you Harding" ".....me to!" Harding replies smiling at you as you both walk into the kitchen.

Lucanis

he hasn't slept. All he can see in his head is Ghiln'nain. He was so close. There was no reason for why he missed. He was sure he could do this. "A crow never fails a contract." Those words from his grandmother replaying in is head from before she..

He's survived this night using coffee, he's on his fourth cup now. He needed to stay awake to make sure spite cant take control. Everyone should be awake by now, time to get ready for the day.

he leaves the pantry into the kitchen and starts to make a large pot of coffee for everyone. What should he make for breakfast?. His mind wonders to you. Maybe he should make your favorite breakfast but... oh he cant remember what it is.

cant kill, now he cant remember what else cant he do.

maybe he should just find you and ask what you'd like for breakfast

he walks outside and spots you and Assan immediately. strange.. what were you doing.

walking over he's able to tell your asleep. Your even breaths and eyes closed peacefully gives it away but why were you out here sleeping on the floor and not in your bed?

*sniffs* "smells like...guilt, regret, and the sting of failure" ah great he's awake. "What are you talking about?" he asks as the demon of spite materializes beside him looming over your sleeping form

"rook! obviously!. The old stench of failure is intense" ..."failure of what?" "WEISSHAUPT. they think they failed usss" "it wasn't them that failed it was me i had her so close.. and i missed"

"not to them no.. to them they should have fought harder, saved more, helped more!"

you shouldn't feel like this. it was him that failed. You were the only reason he even got close to Ghilan'nain.

He bent down reaching out to you. "NO DONT WAKE THEM" "why?" he pulls back surprised by the demons insistence "they just fell asleep despite the pain.. let them sleep" "why do you care spite?" "I like them... much more than i like you" He sighed looking back at you

he reach forward and brushed a piece of you hair away form your face. he stood up. "Where are you going?" "to make breakfast"

he'll wake you once breakfast is ready. And he'll work harder to make sure you don't have to feel guilty ever again.

Neve

notes, notes, and more notes. They were littered all over her desk, floor, and on her bed. As cute as they were the wisps had been no help, she even caught one trying to take her notes out the window into the fade.

She had slept very little with the idea of Aelia being back in Dock Town plaguing her mind. She needed to catch her before she caused more chaos but she had ran out of leads awhile ago.

Sitting here isn't going to help. But Coffee might. Then she can go into Dock Town and talk with some contacts.

Walking out of her room she spotted you and Assan immediately. She chuckled to herself, walking over to the two of you. "Well isn't this sweet" no response, "Rook?" still nothing

it was then that she noticed your closed eyes and even breaths. Why were you sleeping out here?. Just then Assan opened his eyes cooing softly at Neve

"hey Assan what are you and rook doing sleeping out here?" he squawked quietly in response. "Really?" she was talking to the griffon like she understood him, a Habit she picked up recently

"well come on Assan ill give you a treat or two before Davrin wakes up". When the griffon didn't follow her she was surprised, he's usually very food motivated.

she sighed crouching down to his level, scratching his chin.

She glanced over to you, noticing the heavy circles under your eyes. It was about Weisshaupt wasn't it?. You were much easier to read then you think.

as time passed you awoke groaning, sitting up and feeling pain shoot up your back. "Ow..." "morning sleepy head". Startled you look beside you to see Neve sitting on the ground Assan's head in her lap, drinking a cup of coffee

"oh uh hi Neve how long have you been there?" "long enough to notice you snore in your sleep. Had trouble sleeping?" she asked Taking a sip of her coffee " yeah I guess i just fell asleep on Assan but- did you stay here with me while i slept?" she turns her head away dodging the question completely and stood up.

"come on i made a pot of coffee for everyone. You should come down to Minrathous with me, ill treat you to some of Hal's fish fry" she said, walking to the kitchen. If you had been able, you would have seen the dark blush she was hiding with a smirk as she walked away.

Taash

they were sitting on the floor of their room, wraping the last rope of the Dar-saam ritual around their arm. They stood up and took a deep breath before walking out of their room.

They had another thing to do for their mother. "Taash, shokra toh ebra" the words from their mother was always in their head. They would probably be hearing more of it from her through out the day.

Walking out of the light house they weren't even able to take a step before noticing you on the ground. Taash walked over to you sleeping body. "you good?" they didn't get an answer. "...Are you asleep?".... That was a dumb question obviously you were asleep, but on the ground? seriously? that's gonna kill your back when you wake up.

Looking around they thought, should they take you to bed? the grounds pretty uncomfortable no matter how peaceful and cute you looked sleeping on Assan.

Before Taash could process their thoughts they were already picking you up from the ground, trying their best not to wake you.

They pushed the light house doors open with their back and quietly climbed up the stairs. Until one of them creaked to loudly and you immediately began to stir form your sleep.

"what- uh Taash?" "....sup" "what are you doing..?" Taash looked away from your face and instead faced off to the side "taking you to bed.. duh" "but why?" "sleeping on the ground is gonna kill your back. So im taking you to your room." they said very matter of factly, continuing up the stairs.

"... you could have just woken me up you know" you said heat rushing up on your checks. They were holding you like you were nothing more than a few grapes. "Yeah but then that defeats the purpose of you sleeping in the first place"

now you were at you room. Taash slid the door open with their foot, walked in, and laid you down on the couch that had been acting like your bed.

"hey im.. sorry that i woke you" They refused to meet your gaze "no its ok! i probably shouldn't have been sleeping on the ground anyway" "yeah.. next time you can't sleep just come to me, i can make you some tea... do you prefer lavender or ginger?" Taash finally looked at you, a small tinge of pink on their checks. You smiled "surprise me yeah?.. Thanks Taash"

the pink on their checks grew deeper "no problem" they smiled back at you before leaving your room. Leaving you to rest.

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

HOLY SHIT I FINALLY FINISHED THIS. It genuinely took me 3 days to write this. Because this is my first fanfic i wanted to put like maximum effort into this and i really hope you like it.

just a reminder my ask box is open so feel free to send in a request and i will write it for you

other than that i hope you enjoyed and see ya next time

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 3

Summary: Now that you have a party to plan, you decide to start with the decorations... but Negan has a more exciting idea in mind.

Word Count: 5.2k

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Negan being an asshole, reader being an asshole too ?

previous chapter can be found here

After your vow to stay resolute in your (accidental) decision to help with the Christmas party, you vanished on Negan. He half-expected you to ambush him first thing the next morning but nothing came.  

In a perfect world, you would have gone home that day, realized your pettiness and followed Negan’s original advice. You would have humbled yourself and gone straight to Gregory, petitioning for this pain in the ass party to be called off.

“Carl! That funky eye of yours doesn’t mean your legs don’t work!” Negan shouts at one of the students in his afternoon class “Run for the ball, damn it! Quit standing on the sidelines!”.

The whistle around Negan’s neck swings as he struts along the side of the basketball court, muttering to himself. Despite the chill in the air, it’s sunny outside and so they’re not all stuck inside the sports hall, where Negan would’ve been trapped in the thick air of sweaty, hormonal teens. 

But that’s not the only reason he’s glad to be outside on the courts. After Negan’s plan backfired and filled you with spiteful devotion to the Christmas party, he can’t bear to be in the sports hall, knowing it’s only a matter of time before his colleagues wreck havoc on his little slice of heaven.

A polite cough behind him pulls him out of his thoughts. Negan is about to grumble to some kid to cover their mouth but when he glances behind, he sees you instead. 

“Fan- fucking -tastic,” Negan says drily “my day has just got ten times better”.

The sight of a notebook pressed against your chest makes him want to groan. Hoping for some kind of a miracle, he asks “You get the party cancelled yet?”.

You join him by the sidelines, smiling mischievously. “Nope,” you reply cheerfully “I think I’d rather torture you by making you help organize it instead”. 

Negan scoffs, looking back at the game. You take it as your que to continue. Looking down at your notebook you read the small list you’ve made of the different categories you’ll both have to tackle. 

Food. Drink. Music. Decorations.

You read your small list out loud before thinking “Is there anything else a party needs? I guess we could have some kinda entertainment, right?”.

With a long exhale, Negan rubs his forehead “You want a bunch of middle aged teachers to play party games?”. 

You shrug “Well, I don’t know how else to keep them entertained…”

“Booze. That’s all you need, not charades or pin the tail on the donkey”.

You write that down, encircling the drinks category before continuing “Well, I’m free for the rest of the day so whenever you want to—“.

“Christ, Patrick! Follow through on your shot!” Negan interrupts, yelling at another poor kid “better fix that limp wrist for your sake!”.

You blink at the… uh… advice, if you could call it that. 

Negan begins making his way down the side of the court, following the action surrounding the basketball as he shouts more words of wisdom. You watch with a mix of curiosity and disbelief, suddenly feeling more confident in your own, calmer teaching style.  

When Negan finally turns his attention back to you, he raises an eyebrow, his tone turning sarcastic again.

"Class ends in about ten minutes. How about we talk afterwards, so you're not following me around like a damn shadow?" he sighs, checking his watch.

Before you can retort your own thinly veiled insult, he’s off shouting at the kids again, this time clapping his arms to really amp them up.

You shake your head, grip tightening on your notebook as you turn on your heels to leave. Your plan was to just wait in his office but once you get to the door, your eyes are drawn to the adjacent double doors of the sports hall. 

If this is where you’ll be having the party, you may as well get a lay of the land now. 

Creeping inside the barren hall, it’s the quietest you’ve ever seen it. The large room is almost eerie without the clatter of basketballs or the sounds of kids shouting. You pause in the doorway, taking in the empty space. Soon, it’ll be filled with noise— this time, for the Christmas party you’ve roped yourself into.

Walking deeper into the room, you wonder how much convincing it’ll take to get Negan up on a ladder to hang tinsel and string lights across the high ceiling. The hall is desperate for some holiday ambience and your brain aches as you try to figure out just how much tinsel will be needed.

Thankfully, your phone buzzes with a welcome distraction. 

Carol: You want to be a good samaritan and help me bake some cookies after school? Need them for the bake sale 

You: Have my hands full planning party 

You: but I could be tempted if I get to taste test some :D

After you informed everyone that you will be planning the party (and to hold off on the barrage of questions), Carol was the only one who didn’t give you a pitiful look when you mentioned it being you and Negan organizing it.

“Negan’s… complicated,” she told you this morning. Surprisingly, that was the most polite description of him you’ve heard.

“Just keep your distance, keep your head down and do the work” Carol listed “he’ll complain a lot but he will get the job done. Eventually”.

Given how much people seem to dislike him, hearing a neutral take felt like a welcome shift.

Carol: you’re starting to sound like my students

You let out a soft laugh before quickly typing a reply, letting her know you’re not sure if you’ll be finished with Negan by then. As much as you hate to admit it, you know how easily you two can fall into a back-and-forth, letting the time slip away without even realizing it.

Carol replies with a thumbs up, and to kill some time, you check the group chat. It’s been a while since you’ve looked at the new messages.

You don’t blame yourself though, not when it’s where you got yourself into this mess. It’s like returning to the scene of a crime but this time you know better than to hurriedly send in a text.

Gregory: WHO GOT THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS INSTALLATION VAN CLAMPED

Gregory: HOW? WHY?????

Sasha: I told you they shouldn’t park in designated spaces 

Rosita: they had their warning

Gregory: they want to school to pay the fee

Sasha: better than slashed tires

Gregory: go to principal Grime’s office , this needs to be sorted now

Rosita: I’m in the middle of teaching a class ??

Gregory: and you’re busy texting?!?!?!?

Gregory: both of you. Principal Grime’s office. NOW

A chuckle from behind makes you shiver and jerk away, hot breath fanning against the side of your neck. Negan peers over at your phone, having read the messages.

“I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation” he snorts, offering you a smirk as you tuck your phone away “can’t say I blame Rosita though, Gregory’s definitely the type of asshat that let them park there”.

“Yeah and you wanted me to talk to that asshat about getting this party cancelled” you grumble, irritation creeping into your tone

“In the past, sweetness,” Negan smiles just to annoy you “now we’re a team, ain’t we?”.

“In the past?! Negan, that was yesterday!” you point out exasperatedly, wandering around the hall to burn off some of your already pent up energy.

“And yesterday is in the past”.

You shoot him a glare but all that achieves is a wider grin looking back at you. Damn him. You run a hand down your face, forcing yourself to stop— both physically and mentally.

Negan’s trying to get you to bite, to start bickering with him so you’ll lose focus on the party and storm off. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to gather yourself. Unfortunately, when you open them again he still has that cocky smile on his face that makes you want to throttle him.

“Do you have any decorations from the previous years?” Your tone is sharper than necessary but that’s what he gets when he’s being a jerk.

“Usually, they’d host this shit at a fancy little place called the Kingdom, so we don’t have much” he replies, his demeanor easing now that you haven’t taken the bait.

“Really?” you question, expecting at least a worn down Christmas tree “What about things for a nativity or Christmas carols?”.

“Yeah cause nothing screams party like having the fuckin’ nativity scene laid out in the middle of the room” Negan teases, fishing keys out of the back pocket of his sweatpants.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you match his sarcasm with a dose of your own “Well, no, I’m not suggesting we all get drunk in front of baby Jesus”.

Negan lets out a small chuckle, but it sounds unfamiliar. This isn’t the mischievous laugh you heard when he tried to set you up, nor is it the smirk he gave you when you were badmouthing him.

No, this is something else. It’s a rare, genuine sound– a laugh that seems to catch even him off guard. And strangely enough, it’s aimed at you. You try not to linger on it, not wanting to make things awkward.

“If you wanna have a look yourself, knock yourself out” Negan strides over to the small storage room door and you follow behind as he unlocks it.

You stand there, waiting for him to open it but he doesn’t. Instead, Negan pauses for a moment, then he turns to face you with that familiar, smug grin.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases, letting the question hang in the air.

“I— ugh! Negan!” you scold, stepping forward and pushing the door open yourself. Negan doesn’t stop you, even flicking the light on as you go first. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” Negan says, grabbing one of the boxes to prop the door open. “This shit’s old... probably as old as me, so the door’s heavy and a real bastard to yank open from the inside”.

Inside, you’re met with a chaotic mess; boxes piled on top of boxes, cones and rackets scattered across the floor, and a jumble of balls stacked on a rack against the wall.

Technically, the room is large but with all the clutter, there’s barely enough space to move around. Inching your way across a small clearing, you almost wedge yourself between two tall stacks of boxes. “Any idea which ones might have the festive goods?” you ask. 

“Pretty sure it’s the two at the back,” Negan trails after you, clearly uninterested “y’can usually see a bit of tinsel shimmering through the box”.

“This is a good start… I guess,” you try to take an optimistic approach “at least there’s something here”.

You carefully navigate through the maze of clutter, sidestepping loose javelins and dodging stray tennis balls. The mess makes every step feel like a mini obstacle course.

As you finally reach the last stack, you tug the lid off the nearest box, the dust tickling your nose. Peering inside, you slowly begin to sift through its contents—a jumble of tinsel, some baubles that have no string and a few random holiday knickknacks.

Negan leans against the next stack of boxes, arms crossed, watching you with mild amusement.

“Oh wow, you’re just going straight for it, huh?” he commentates, unbothered to help “it’s like you’re on a treasure hunt… y’know if you want to find the real treasure, you’re in luck”.

You don’t bite, not believing his bullshit. Even with no response, Negan continues “I know exactly where to find the crown jewels”. He gives you a wink but you miss it, keeping your head down as you rummage.

”… hellllllloooooo?” he pokes your side.

You pull out a handful of mismatched ornaments and toss them at him. “Maybe you should stop doing nothing and actually help?” you suggest as he barely manages to catch them.

With an exaggerated sigh, Negan starts to search the second box. “I was doing something,” he protests, carelessly looking through the box “flirting, if you didn’t notice”.

“Yeah, well if that’s your idea of flirting, I pray I’m not your type” you jeer.

This time, Negan doesn’t reply. You wonder if he’s taking a page out of your book and ignoring you but then you feel his eyes land on you. 

Readying your disapproving look, you turn to meet Negan’s gaze. “What?” you ask, already annoyed by whatever shenanigan he’s about to pull. 

With the ghost of a smirk, Negan simply stares at you for a moment. He doesn’t let his eyes wander like how you expected, the action something you thought he’d do just to get a rise out of you. Wetting his lips, Negan teasingly pulls his hand out of the box, bringing with it a tattered piece of mistletoe. 

“Guess there’s only one way to find out if you’re my type” he shakes the mistletoe, accidentally making one of the plastic leaves fall off.

“Oh fuck off” you don’t stop the words coming out of your mouth, turning on your heels to leave.

Flinging the mistletoe back into the box, Negan follows. You’re half tempted to kick the box that’s keeping the door open just to lock him in, but his long strides allow him to catch up with you in no time. 

“Awh, c’mon,” he teases “are you always in ‘teacher mode’ ?”.

“Only when I’m around immature people”.

“Very funny,” Negan comments as you storm back out to the empty hall. He can tell he’s almost got you; you’re so close to walking out, yet you won’t give him the satisfaction.

Negan knows how to push people’s buttons— it's one of his favorite hobbies. He enjoys testing how much people will tolerate, seeing what it takes to crack them. For some, a single remark is enough to make them fold, while others can take a whole barrage, letting it build up bit by bit. 

The most frustrating thing about you is that you can take a lot, all while throwing your own taunts right back at him. You rub your forehead, trying to will yourself into not punching him.

“You got any classes left today?” he breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly conversational considering the amount of teasing he’s been doing. 

Every question feels like a set up for some next lewd joke or suggestion and so you simply nod your head. 

“Perfect,” he says, locking up the storage room and tossing the keys up into the air before catching them “let’s go grab some new decorations”.

You raise an eyebrow, curious, but Negan doesn’t wait around. As he strolls out of the hall, you have to quicken your pace to keep up with him.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He glances over his shoulder, speaking to you as if you’re a three year old. “we go shop, buy new decorations, you happy, party less shit looking”.

“But don’t you have classes?” you badger him, watching as Negan makes a quick stop by his office. He drops the keys onto his desk, grabs his coat, and snatches up his car keys.

“Yeah, but Mark can cover for me,” he replies casually, clearly unfazed “it’s the bastard’s last day before his vacation, he can do some extra work”.

The last thing you expected was for Negan to suggest going on a quick trip together, especially with how little you two can tolerate each other. Negan lets out a short laugh when he sees your wary expression, clearly unconcerned. 

“He’ll figure it out,” he says nonchalantly, pulling out his phone to shoot a quick text to the other coach “it’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t give Fat Joey my class, don’t trust that fucker to teach gym”.

“Negan!” you slap his arm “Rude”.

He shrugs. 

The two of you walk out of the school and head toward the teacher’s parking lot. As you look around, a wave of hesitation hits you.

Even though you don’t have any more classes to teach today, you can’t shake the feeling that leaving early feels like you’re playing hooky.

Negan notices in an instant. With a small chuckle, he places both hands on your shoulders and gives you a gentle nudge forward.

“C’mon, Ms. Goody Two Shoes,” he teases, steering you toward his pick up truck “we won’t be gone long”.

You hesitate for a moment, still unsure. “Are you sure?” you try to look up at him as he directs you toward the passenger side “I don’t mind driving myself and meeting you there”.

“No need. I’ve got it covered,” he replies, taking his hands off you to open the door. With the automatic roll of your eyes, you get in.

The car ride to the store is a mix of awkward tension and playful banter. As Negan drives, he leans back in his seat with an easy confidence. Every now and then, he throws in a flirtatious comment but for the most part, he keeps it PG.

Surprisingly, Negan actually asked about you and why you’d move to “such a backend fuckin’ town”. You grabbed the opportunity to not argue or get flirted with and instead babbled on about why you needed a break away from your hometown (making sure to skip all the family rifts and drama). 

Pulling into the Target parking lot, the familiar smirk of the Negan you know resurfaces.

"I can always make time to give ya a real tour of the town," he says, and for a brief moment, you almost believe he's being sincere—until he adds, "With or without the extra stop at mine afterwards."

You let out an exaggerated sigh as he parks, shaking your head. "You're like a comedian that only knows one joke and no matter how many times it falls flat, you just keep saying it anyways".

Negan’s eyebrows bounce up as his truck comes to a stop, his tone dripping with cockiness “Oh it works real well, 99.9% success rate”.

“Wow, you’re just like bleach” you shoot back as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

Getting out of the truck and heading into the store, he proudly replies “All I have to say is I have been told I’m killer in the bedroom, so maybe I am like bleach”.

Shaking your head, you opt for a small basket instead of dragging around a massive cart. The last thing you need is Negan laughing as you struggle to control one of those things. 

“Do you have an off switch?” You taunt. 

Taking the basket off you, Negan’s fingers brush yours. He takes full advantage, tilting to the side so his tall frame is closer to your eye level.

Lowering his voice to what you can only assume is what he uses in the bedroom, he seductively growls “Wanna try to find it?”.

The look you give him says everything, and with a sharp ‘hmph ,’ you head toward the holiday section, letting him trail behind.

As you pass the Christmas trees, you glance at them, already knowing you’ll need to check your budget before committing to one for the party. This trip feels more like a reconnaissance mission—just picking up a few affordable things if you find them while scouting what else they have to offer.

Meanwhile, Negan simply drifts by, clearly bored now that the playful banter has faded. He’s like a kid that’s been dragged into grocery shopping with his mom—picking up random items and staring at the ceiling, hoping for some kind of entertainment. 

Negan would’ve spent his time staring at your ass but he knows better than to risk it. You’d throw a nutcracker at him if you caught him perving on you.

“ Neeeeeeegan ?” You drag out his name, watching the man completely zone out.

As much as you want to give him a piece of your mind, you can’t say you’re surprised. You both knew this was going to be a pain.

The only reason you’re party planning is out of spite, while Negan’s just here because he doesn’t want his sports hall to be trashed by either terrible decorations or the teachers on the night.  

Shaking the wreath in your hands, the bells jingle and you call out again “Negan? Hello?”.

Looking back to you, his expression softens just enough to pass as a real smile rather than a smirk. “I heard you the first time, I just like hearing you say my name,” he says, his tone playful.

You scoff, fighting the urge to smile. Unfortunately, you’re human so when a handsome man throws you a compliment, it’s impossible not to react, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he can be.

… handsome ?

You quickly shove that thought aside, irritated that your brain so easily confessed that. He is handsome, but… he’s Negan. An asshole, in other words.  

Alright, time to stop thinking about that.

“I, uh…” you swallow, trying to get your thoughts in order “The wreath! If we drape a tablecloth over the desks and put one of these in front of each, that’ll look nice, right?”

Negan gives a casual nod, eyes shifting between the wreath and the rows of holiday decorations.

“I mean, the desks are just for finger food and drinks anyways but… it’ll be festive!” you find yourself rambling, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. 

He scoffs at how you try to justify spending some money a on wreath, taking a few steps toward the sales section.

“How about…” Negan starts, picking up a small pumpkin statue priced at just a dollar, “…we buy a bunch of these and throw a Christmas hat on ‘em?”

You pause, unsure whether you should dignify that with a response.

“You want to use Halloween decorations?” you drop the wreath into the basket, rubbing a hand over your face in disbelief.

“I’m getting it” he puts the pumpkin next to your wreath.

You look down at the pumpkin and purse your lips. As if this party hasn’t been doomed from the get go, you don’t think having pumpkins there will help. You don’t have to voice your concerns, Negan can read your face. 

“Hey, I’m just offering a little direction,” he says, wandering down the aisle “someone’s gotta take charge when you’re doubting whether you should buy wreaths for a Christmas party”.

A flutter of defensiveness stirs within you, a shift in your chest that spreads like a warm yet  uncomfortable pressure.

Picking up a box of lights, you drop them in the basket “I’m not doubting, I just don’t want to buy junk that we won’t use”.

Negan stops, ignoring what you just said as he picks up some balloons. “We should get these… just gotta make sure this side is at the back” he lifts up the packet, showing you the gigantic ‘Happy 60th Birthday’ printing on the front of each balloon. 

“You’re kidding,” plucking the pack out of his hands, you put it back on the shelf “and I don’t need you to take charge of this, especially when you’re doing such a half assed job”. 

Negan scoffs “Am not”.

The more you try to ignore the building in your chest, the more it festers, growing into a quiet but insistent urge to clarify, to defend and correct the narrative.

“That’s all you do! You want to be in charge but you’re not thorough enough whenever you are” you explain as calmly as you can. 

There was a small bit of you that hoped Negan would listen to what you’re saying but he’s not interested in the feedback, waving his free hand dismissively as he walks back up the aisle.

“It’s easier when I’m in charge because I get shit done, I don’t try to reason with myself why I need to buy something– I just do it,” as if to prove the point, he puts another pumpkin into the basket.

It's like he’s not even trying to understand your point, and that’s a realization that makes your patience unravel.

The calm concern starts to fade and is replaced by a barely contained annoyance. 

“But you don’t try to make things easier for others, you literally just left Mark to deal with the rest of your classes for the day and complained at the idea of Mark letting Joey help! You’re always pushing your own agenda and railroading people into going along with it” taking a firm stance against him, you do the unthinkable. 

You reach your hand into the basket.

And remove a pumpkin.

Negan gives you a pointed look, boring into your skull and not even watching your hand place the pumpkin back on the shelf.

“Sweetheart, calm down, this isn’t a military operation,” he asserts “we’re just planning a damn party so lighten up. Get festive!”.

It’s maddening. Now you’re making a mountain out of a molehill? You should just lighten up because it’s a Christmas party and nothing more?

His dismissive tone is like a constant poke to your patience, stretching it thinner with every passing moment.  To make matters worse, Negan carries on like usual, wandering over to the next aisle.

Begrudgingly, you totter after him.

“You can’t just do that!” you snap, absentmindedly perusing the scented candles “you can’t act like this is something silly when I’m giving you valid criticism! I’m trying to put in effort here and actually make this party bearable”. 

It hits all at once, a rush of raw emotion that floods your mind and spills out before you can stop it.

Your voice shakes, not from fear, but from the overwhelming need to be heard. You don’t even have time to think, to carefully choose your words; it all comes out, unfiltered.

Every bit of irritation, confusion, and disbelief tumbling out in one breathless rant.  

“All you want to do is skip school, wander around here, flirt with me– even though I keep rejecting you! And just buy stupid shit that we don’t need for this party!” you rant, gesturing to the lonely pumpkin still in the basket.

“You have to respect other people’s time and their effort too. Not everyone wants to half-ass this! You get your own way all the time and no one will say no to you or make you do it their way. It’s Negan’s way or no way. And people are so used to letting you get away with shit again and again just because—“.

You stop yourself.

Your mouth clamps shut, stopping your cathartic rant before it can say anymore but it’s too late. Negan stands next to you, waiting.

Shit.

“… I like the cinnamon one,” you say quietly, trying to change the subject as you sniff the candles  “sometimes, I think they make the gingerbread ones too strong and the ones that are supposed to smell like vanilla never do”.

Negan doesn’t budge. A small smirk creeps up on his face. Negan already knows what you were going to say, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him.

He’s attractive, good in the sac, can charm the legs off anyone within a ten mile radius and happens to have one swoon worthy smile.

He gets away with this because he’s sexy. Nothing he can do about that, it’s natural!

“Go on,” he implores, tongue peeking out as he wets his bottom lip “say it with your chest, doll”.

You want to stay quiet. You know for the interest of everyone, you should. 

“People let you be an asshole because your wife died”.

You’ve never seen a change in someone so quick. His face darkens, veins pulsing at his temples as his jaw clenches so tight that his teeth almost grind together.

Negan’s eyes narrow into a hard, unforgiving stare. Every muscle in his body seems to coil, as if ready to snap. 

“Are you fucking shitting me?” he grunts. 

You’ve never seen him like this— not even when you’ve bickered with him. This is something different, something deeper.

His entire demeanor has shifted, like a switch was flipped, and all the previous irritation and taunting have been replaced by a quiet, seething fury that radiates from him in waves.

Your fingers curl around the candle but you barely register the sensation. Your eyes lock on him, wide and unblinking. He told you to say it, to be honest with him. 

Every muscle in your body feels frozen, as if something inside you has short-circuited. You’ve always thought you’d know what you’d do in a moment like this, whether you’d be a flight or fight type of person. But now, facing a full wave of intimidation, you realize the truth: you’re not the fight type. You’re not the flight type. 

You’re the freeze type.

It’s as if the air around you has thickened, the space between you and him narrowing to a suffocating stillness. You want to stutter out an apology but it’s all happened so suddenly that you forget how to. 

It feels like all you can do is stand there, rooted to the spot. In an instant, he snaps out of his silent rage and rushes into action. 

Without warning, Negan lets go of the shopping basket, letting it drop to the ground with a violent clatter. The sound cuts through the air like a gunshot and you jump.

His hands are still clenched into fists as he takes a step back and his eyes flash one last time at you with an unreadable mix of frustration and something deeper.  And then, he spins on his heel and storms off.

“Fuck this,” you hear muttered under his breath as he goes. 

You’re left standing there, the abruptness of it all taking the air from your lungs. Your legs take jittery steps forward before you meekly grab the basket and try to follow. 

With only a pumpkin, some lights and a wreath inside, the basket somehow pulls at your arms, as if you’re carrying a thousand things. Trying to follow, the basket swings awkwardly in your grasp, banging against your shins with each uncoordinated step.

“Negan?” You call out, your voice sounding smaller than you mean it to. Your gaze darts nervously from aisle to aisle and across the registers until you spot a tall and imposing shadow going out the main doors.

“No, no, no, no, no,” your heart thuds painfully against your chest, each beat louder than the last.

You set the basket down gently, almost afraid it might shatter if you move too quickly, before rushing out of the store. The cool air hits your skin, but it’s no relief. This can’t be happening. He can’t just leave you here. Not like this.

You move fast, almost stumbling, your eyes scanning the parking lot frantically. Cars of every make and model line the pavement, but there’s no sign of his truck.

A pang of panic rises in your throat as you take a few more steps, searching the sea of vehicles, your stomach tightening with every second that passes. His truck should be here. It should’ve been parked right where you left it.

The realization hits you like a wave. It’s not here.

A soft whine escapes your lips, barely a sound and yet it carries the weight of everything that’s suffocating you in that moment. Confusion. Anxiety. Guilt. And an overwhelming sense of abandonment. You stand frozen, the noise of the parking lot fading as the panic surges again. 

He’s gone.

-------

gif made from scenepack provided by harleys.scenes on insta <3

[rubylovessharks]

Hii!! I saw your post asking for ideas of what to write for Idia’s birthday and I just had to say something! (Feel free to ignore this ofc)

The whole crush trope is one of my obsessions along with Idia so I would love to see how you write Idia realizing that he has a crush on reader who is yuu. Like reader has also their otaku side (way more chill that Idia ofc) and they are patient with him so they got to form a pretty frienship with him and also helped him a lot after his overblot

You can omit this part if you want but im thinking of a really kind and sweet reader who besides Idia has befriended most of the twst cast, but they can act pretty shy if the situation is too overwhelming(?

Idk if that makes sense and sorry for the request and thank you for your time :)

of course i'll take on your request! i really like it too :3 so i'll try my best to write it, and write it well!!

Idia Shroud x Yuu(who is the reader)

no warnings! it's all gonna be fluff :333 but like it has hints of angst but ya know- that's idia for ya :/

It's been quite a long time since you and Idia have become friends, you still remember how you first got to know each other. Idia's brother, Ortho, has found out about your shared interest for gaming and anime and thought that you'd make a great first irl friend for Idia. And the very first moment you got introduced to him you knew that you two really are similar, and it wasn't just Ortho's exaggerated view point.

You both were shy and afraid of social interactions, you both enjoy video games and let's not forget that whenever you got the chance you'd talk Ace's and Deuce's ears off about the various animes you've watched. So you two really do have a lot in common. It's just that Idia seems to distant himself from others, never wanting to leave his room and only going out if he really needed to. And how could you call yourself his good friend if you don't try to make an effort to make his sad life a little better?

And that effort has worked too well. Because now everytime you are even mentioned Idia's heart feels heavy. If before he was just shy yet kind of willing to let you into his life now he feels as if something is totally wrong! Everytime you two hang out he feels as if there's a tugging feeling inside his chest, telling him to get closer and hug you.

The tips of his hair turn a light pink as his face reddens, he chokes a for a moment on nothing as he stares at your form. You were playing games at the moment and Idia couldn't help but think that you are the most beautiful thing in the world. Yet like always Idia tends to go towards the negative outlook on life instead of a positive one, and that leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He remembers that day, or rather specifically that fight.

"Why do you still come hang out with me?" you hear him ask with that soft voice of his. What a stupid question you think to yourself, doesn't he know that you come here to have fun? "What do you mean?" "do you just not remember a week ago?" you put down the controller you held and turned to fully look at him "ya know... When I went berserk and tried to unleash a bunch of monsters out to the world????" "you mean when you overbloted? Yeah I remember. It doesn't change the way I feel about you." Somehow these words pulled harder at his heart, as if you were pulling his very soul closer and closer towards you.

"Ever since I met you you were always showing signs of mental problems, and I still decided to become friends with you." now that Idia thinks about it, he did act like he had no real purpose. And now there's a nagging part in his brain that thinks otherwise.. why did feelings have to be so confusing and weird!? Is what he thinks.

"Well I don't get feelings either...." you say as if you read his mind, "but I'd like to ask, since you brought up the subject," "brought up the subject?" Idia whispers "what do you feel?" Now Idia is completely pink. From his hair to his face, if he could get redder he would! "Did I say that outloud!?" he panics. "Did you not mean to? Shouldn't friends tell eachother their problems and try to help eachother out?" Something about you saying that he's ''just a friend'' makes his heart sink. As if he's falling down after his overblot again, down and down until he hits rock bottom.

"Idia please...." you reach out for him, like you're trying to pull him up, to stop him from falling. "tell me what's wrong." Maybe he should explain the way he feels. Maybe he should try to understand that weird tugging feeling he has. Maybe it's something he just never felt before, and you are the cause of it, the reason he's been feeling more happy than what he's past self has felt on a regular basis.

There's no way it is romantic love...Right?

And he reaches out, holding your hand in his, letting you help him from the endless falling. Getting him out of that pit of dark thoughts. "I love you." You tell him, and he never hit rock bottom once you said that.

All of the sudden he's pink again, and as these words loop through his brain he gets it. That tugging, pulling feeling on his chest, his heart, was his love for you. His yearning to be with you. The want to make you happy as he keeps you by his side to maintain his happiness too.

But he's not deserving..

Is what his old self would've said. But now he knows that if he wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with him, saying no will just harm you. Saying no will just push you away and make you feel as if doesn't want that as well. So he does something he would've never thought he'll do in his life.

"I-I love you too!"

He says shakily as he leans forward to peck your lips, and you too, lean into it making his birthday a happy memory in his eyes again.