#best thing to come home to after a long day of work

[mossterunderthebed]

oho. ohohoho. now to make it goyuu... i need a knight au

ooh what if they're from different kingdoms. and yuuji is the king's only remaining relative so he is unfortunately the Heir. and was dragged to the palace after his uncle found where his father had taken his grandson away from the palace to live out his days in ignominity because he was once a great general but his son sukuna who was greater even than him instigated a violent takeover and disposed of half the previous nobility

and hes a tyrant but a lot of the commoners love him because to be fair his actual policies arent too bad just bloody as fork and super strict and hes big into conquest which hey makes money and brings their country glory so it works.

enter gojo.

emperor of neighboring empire thats not technically much bigger in terms of land mass but has way more people (this has advantages and disadvantages). and yuuji has risen to the rank of general and is known as the tiger of the west which he thinks is embarrassing. and he hates that that's what the people know about him and what they like about him because he wants to be a good ruler. but he doesnt know how only he doesnt think it should be like sukuna rules

and then gojo who ofc would lead his own armies so he and yuuji end up clashing in an unexpected place. and gojo uses guerilla/ambush tactics they werent expecting bc they thought they had the advantage of numbers and yuuji is captured.

and he expects to be tortured and stuff but this gojo guy is actually... really nice? and insanely smart? and really funny too? and pretty handsome too wow ok. and then they kind of end up becoming friends?? and yuuji confides that he doesnt know how to rule well but he really admires gojo whos so smart and has gathered such good people to him (unlike many people who have critisised him as being honourless because of his tactics but its because he and yuuji both understand the value of a life as opposed to expectations of 'character' which is actually just a load of crap the nobles to make themselves sound/look good)

and yea i dont know things snowball and in the end they have a long-lasting long distance love affair until gojo's heir (yuuta) comes of age. bc surprise surprise gojo never wanted to rule esp not after the betrayal of his closest advisor and best friend in his youth. and finally he goes to live w yuuji who disposed of his own uncle in a very moving morally heart-clenching scene

and they live happily ever after and travel back and forth a lot and every time gojo visits his home he acts outrageously but hes still always just as intimidating as ever and even in his late forties h makes a soldier who spoke out of turn piss himself in a public spar.

and he and yuuji are insufferably chaotic and loving until they die and are buried side by side on the land yuuji rehabilitated (his childhood home w his grandfather that was wrecked by sukuna) and they plant little yellow and blue wildflowers over the graves and years in the future the two crossbreed and spawn a lovely little new breed of flower that symbolizes the powerful kind of love that would wait for years and years. a patient kind of love.

and centuries later records are found of them and the graves are unearthed and little artifacts are found and their letters and etc etc etc and their love story becomes known as one of the greatest of all time and stories and plays and poetry are written about it and their letters are translated and published and are turned into a saying 'i would write you a thousand letters' which basically means 'i would love you with dedication through great obstacles and hardship' or more simply, 'i will love you even when its hard.'

and yeap thats the that.

Bonus: at the very very very end theres a little cutscene of their reincarnations meeting for the first time after accidentally bumping into each other and gojo drops something so yuuji kneels and offers it to him and for a second they both get mad deja vu and just stop and stare at each other like they're the most beaufiful thing the other has seen and for that moment rest of the world doesnt exist

*holds back tears* and then they fall in love and get married and adopt some cats and maybe a kid and live in a cozy apartment and stay together for a whole 'nother lifetime and retire to the Sendai countryside and tend to a garden full of Their Flowers which they find out on the second date are both of their favorites for a reason neither of them can quite describe and ughhhhhhhhhhhh

sorry i got emotional. ok bye.

horniest battle moments:

- taking your ally's weapon out of their scabard to use yourself

- using someone else's shoulder as a rifle stand

- nudging someone's chin up with the tip of your weapon

- freezing with your blades against one another's throats, breathing into each other's mouths

[evieelyzabethh]

"deep"

⭒'thinking 'bout ringing your line, i wish you would come home'⭒ make out + nsfw headcanons for Viktor

request✓: "Viktor make out headcanons (and maybe even nsfw hcs?) 👉👈"

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A tease, through and through. He likes to be begged for, to put it simply. He likes to worm his way into your brain and slither down your spine and make you shiver. He isn't one for PDA, or rather, he isn't the one to initiate it. There's too much volatile equipment in the lab, if ink is to spill on those notes it could set them back weeks, and one slight miscalculation could create an explosion. It's an unfair double standard with him. If you were to kiss him on the cheek, it's a real possibility he'll joking wipe it off, but he can mess with you all day long.

He is very patient while waiting for your resolve to crumble. He likes the journey between Jayce's presence in the room being your saving grace to your damnation as you try and will him telepathically to leave. He's amused hearing your pleas for him to stop teasing you becoming less honest as you lean into his lingering touches more and more. The way your eyes get wide when he asks you 'is it too hard? it's okay to want to tap out.' in relation to your work, but the way his accent is laid, almost slurred with how thick the words roll of his tongue, makes you think of something else.

His kisses are quick when you need them the slowest. After toying with you all day with his stupid dirty remarks and his pretty face and the way he flexes his hand or moves a spare gear between his fingers, you could eat from the palm of his hand. The blush on your cheeks is written off as a sign of an impending fever, even more believable because you're just so hot, and you lean into his cool hand against your forehead and look up at him with doe eyes that scream just take me home. He plants a kick peck to your check, and you twitch in irritation at the smug look on his face.

He's the type to make you chase him, your desperation feeding into what could only be sadism. He chides you for being desperate. 'I'm not going anywhere, doll, I'm just right here.' he says after pulling away from your hot kisses, removing your frantic hands from his neck and holding them in his. 'Good things come to those who wait.' He's a bit of a control freak in that way. He doesn't care how much you need it; you'll get it when he says so.

Despite his kisses being slow, his hands aren't. They work magic, he could work your bra off without you noticing. They also have a mind of their own, weaving between the buttons of your blouse to wrapping around your hair, tugging it as a sign of disapproval. Or sometimes he just holds your chin in one hand, brushing loose hairs from your face to memorize the look it holds. You would think he was a sculptor the way he delicately traces over each feature, grazing each freckle, feeling every divot in your lip. He's committing it to memory. He's not the type to keep polaroids, but he could immortalize both the before and after of your nights together into iron and stone.

Not often rough, but after enough of an adrenaline rush, maybe after a dose of shimmer, he could get there. He's not often messy, but after a rough day of frustration and failure, he's all teeth and tongue, mashing your face into his, practically falling into you with a fervor and anguish that is unfamiliar to the both of you.

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He gives me sadist vibes. The type to tie you to the headboard and leave you there with a vibrator strapped to your clit until you are sobbing and begging for him to take it off. The type to talk to you like he hates your guts, cooing at you condescendingly giving you whiplash at the juxtaposition of his mean words and his sweet tone. The type to accuse of getting off on the idea of being caught by Jayce when you're fucking in the lab. 'You think he'd be surprised, pretty, seeing that his best friend is a fucking whore?' You get the picture.

He can be sweet. Even when he's jackhammering his cock down your throat, calling you the filthiest names under the sun, he really doesn't have a vicious bone in his body. His pupils are dilated too big for his expression to be of genuine disgust. His hands are too gentle, even as wiping the tears that he caused, to truly hate you.

I see a lot of headcanons saying that he prefers giving to receiving, which I don't personally agree with. Don't get me wrong, he loves being in between your thighs, it's his favorite way of pushing your buttons and pushing you to the limits. He likes how frustrated you get when he blows cool air onto your aching clit while you clench at nothing. He's mesmerized by the way his spit mingles with your overflowing cunt. But nothing beats the sight of you on your knees, drool dripping from your chin, eyes closed as you're trying to remember how to breath. It's the fastest way to turn his brain off, and lord knows he needs it.

Due to his experimental nature, he's definitely into edging, both being on a receiving and giving ends. He doesn't just want to test your limits, he wants to test his, and he is not one to give up. He easily gives into you after enough tears start flowing, but he could go until feels like he is about to pass out. You probably tap out before he does, his groans eventually becoming nothing more than breathy whimpers, his chest heaving, his hand wrapping around the hand currently wrapped around his red, leaking cock. He's almost delirious but it just hurts so good.

More of a groaner than a moaner. Definitely takes advantage of those nights where you're on top of him to bury his head in your neck just to groan in your ear and tell you just how good you look on top of him because he knows it gets you off.

This being said, aftercare usually consists of helping each other into the tub, taking turns scrubbing each other clean while exchanging a few wet kisses in the warm water. It's only long after the water goes cold that you leave, giggling back to bed, where if you ask nicely enough, he'll read to you as you both fall asleep.

[mischiefmaker615]

Chef's Choice

Over the past time of having tumblr, i have collected my personal favorites- stories that i always get drawn back to when i need inspiration, something to read, and/or something to enjoy with whatever mood or situation that needs tending LOL (not in order and there are so many others i love!!)

Thought it be best to introduce you to some of the greats out there :D

“Seems like the prince of Asgard is seduced by a mortal woman”

By: @fictive-sl0th

(OMG i absolutely LOVE the doctor themed stories with Loki XD ya never know what direction it's gonna end up ;) )

A Coveted Bride

By: @magicbystarlight

(i absolutely LOVE jealous Loki, anything in the realm of dark theme and possessiveness XD we don't judge here. it's an enquired taste and darling, you cooked!!)

Duplicitous *Long Snake Moan*

By: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

(everything you write, i got to read! truth be told, we didnt ask for but we absolutely needed!!)

Pinned Down

By: @lokisgoodgirl

(come on, just by the titles alone you know it's gonna be good! everything you've written, i've fallen in love with each detail, nothing is rushed and personalities are captured beautifully! i've caught myself gasping out loud in public with some of the stuff you bring us and i absolutely love it!)

Overstimulation Welcome Him Home More Between His Thighs

By: @sarahscribbles

(had me drooling in kinktober!!! just the title alone, i hit favorite so i could read it when i got time and darling, you didn't disappoint! so many stories just draw my attention and every aspect of them is truly perfect!!! i need more!!!)

thirty seconds

By: @muddyorbsblr

(what i would give to be in the readers shoes!! omg i loved this!!! hit all the right feelings and i cant help but reread this far more than thirty times LOL)

The Chambermaid

By: @wheredafandomat

(i want Loki to step on me!!!! i wouldn't mind slave life if it meant serving him LOL gods this was perfect!! i always loved maid x Loki themed stories, keep them coming!!)

Kinktober Day 16

By: @suguru-getos

("we listen and we don't judge" *cough* i love me some CNC! seems like a very hidden kink topic so i got positively excited when i saw this mentioned in your writing and just HAD to read it Lol kinky indeed!!! truly my favorite fic of yours so far!)

Overtime Safehouse

By: @cleo-fox

(I'm pretty sure all of tumblr knows who you are Lol i have enjoyed EVERYTHING you've come out with; your plots, details and character embodiment, Loki is on point!! i cant even fathom where to begin on making storylines this deep with all the bells and whistles. you are truly an incredible writer!!)

"I can do….terrible things to you."

By: @oh-look-at-her

(i can't literally do anything but bow down to you and get up only when given permission LOL truly a damn good time reading your work!!)

Firestarter

By: @delaber

(who doesn't love a good enemies to lovers story Lol can't tell you how many people i've shooed while i was in the middle of reading this XD)

Frozen Stiff Happily Never After

By: @simplyholl

(tbh i struggle finding REALLY good Jotun Loki fics and absolutely fell in love with this one!!! thank you for letting me die in peace now Lol had me giddy and blushing!!)

Have Mercy

By: @mochie85

(you captured his hot and pain in the ass personality so well!!! i LOVED this went through all the emotions on this one!! kinda like an enemies to lovers story Lol why cant it be me!!!)

A Tales of Tangled Desires

By: @angelremnants

(i fell in love with the part one, not expecting for my request to be answered but i got a part two and absolutely have become obsessed!! i love your writing so much and thank you for the prayer being answered! Lol)

And The Gods Made Love

By: @thefairywithboots

(thank you for my request being answered!! anything you publish, i cant get enough of and love the pure art like pace you take to form every inch of your story!!)

[fluentmoviequoter]

Find Your Own Happiness

Requested Here!

Pairing: (initial) Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After a falling out with your family, you move to LA and meet Tim Bradford. When he breaks your heart to give his to someone else, you're left completely alone.

Warnings: angst! a tiny bit of fluff, r has a sister, familial reconciliation, only half of a happy ending

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Seven Months Ago

“You’re not listening to me,” you exclaim, failing to keep your voice level. “I’m just asking you to hear me out on why I think this is the right thing to do.”

“Your feelings don’t matter in this,” your mother snaps. “They are dangerous in police work, and if you can’t understand that, you’re more…”

“More what?” you challenge. “Different? Weaker? A failure? All because I want to move to LA and be an LAPD officer.”

“There’s more to it than that,” your dad says.

“There really isn’t.”

You look to your sister and cousins for help, but they sit silently at the table. No one will stand up for you, so you’ll have to give up and accept what your family thinks and wants, or you’ll have to do something for yourself this time.

“I understand wanting me to follow in Dad and Grandpa’s footsteps,” you begin, quieter and softer. “But aren’t I doing that by becoming a police officer? Why does it matter where I police as long as I do?”

“Because our family is here,” your father barks. “The people I, my father, and dozens of other family members have locked away, the victims we’ve helped through over a century are all right here. Running to Los Angeles guarantees that you’ll disappear in the sea of blue patrol cops. You’ll be meaningless there, but you can make a difference here.”

Your jaw drops as pressure builds in your eyes. “You think I’m meaningless? Following my dreams and what I think is the right thing to do makes me meaningless and I’ll disappear into the back of some LAPD directory, that’s what you’re telling me?”

“We’re only trying to do what’s best for you,” someone interjects.

“No!” you yell, turning to see everyone around you. “You’re trying to talk me out of something so that you can brag about me, control me, and make an even bigger name for yourselves! And-“ You pause to laugh, partly because you’re finally seeing your parents' true reason for supporting you for so long and partly to keep yourself from crying. “I’m glad to be the one to tell you this. A police station like the one you want me to waste away in? That is meaningless. This station isn’t big enough to make a real difference in the big picture. Los Angeles? There’s potential there. So, if you don’t want to support me unless you can control me, don’t bother calling.”

As you storm out of your parents’ house with only a day until your first day at the LAPD, you sigh and let the tears you held in roll over your cheeks. Walking to your car, you decide that if the people inside, the people who are supposed to love you no matter what, don’t care, then you don’t either. No one comes out after you, texts to check if you get home safe, and they certainly don’t tell you goodbye before you board the one-way flight to LAX.

Present Day

“If player two – that’s you - was in a TV show, what would it be?” Tim reads. He drops the card and looks at you before he asks, “What is this game?”

You shrug and write your answer on the board. “Lucy said it was fun.”

“Lucy thinks filming documentaries is fun, we can’t trust her judgement. I love you, but this game is stupid.”

You blink at him, then say, “We have to finish this round. What happened to Tim ‘finish what I start and break their spirits’ Bradford?”

“He’s tired of… whatever stupid name this game has.”

Laughing, you watch him write an answer on his miniature whiteboard. When the timer ends, you show your boards to one another.

“Blue Bloods?” you read incredulously.

“Game of Thrones?” he counters in a matching tone.

“I can fight,” you explain as if it’s obvious. “And even if I couldn’t, Oberyn Martell would teach me.”

“You have a boyfriend. I’m sitting right here.”

“A boyfriend who doesn’t wear golden robes, and who thinks I’d be in Blue Bloods.”

“You’re from a family of cops!” he exclaims. “It makes total sense!”

You try to hide how your smile drops at the mention of your family, and it seems to work because Tim checks his chiming phone rather than asking what happened. It’s been over half a year since you last spoke to your family. Close to a year since any of them told you they loved you. You know it’s over at least until you can think of a way to start a conversation without falling into the same argument as before. If you could make an arrest worthy of getting your name in the LA Times, maybe you would have something to show them you were right.

“Is everything okay?” you ask Tim.

He shakes his head, typing quickly. “That UC op I mentioned – with the guy who looks like me? Something came up.”

“Need any help?”

Tim stands, slides his phone in his pocket, and bends at the waist to kiss your forehead. “I have to go to the station and wait for Jake’s phone to ring again. I’ll keep you updated, okay?”

“Okay,” you answer, tipping your head up for a real kiss.

Tim pecks your lips, apologizes, and whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you echo before the door closes behind Tim.

Looking around your empty apartment, you wonder why people who say they love you tend to leave before you’re ready for them to.

Five hours after Tim left, you get a text. Your heart drops at the noise because 2 a.m. messages and being a cop do not go well together. Reaching for your phone, you silently wish that everything and everyone is okay.

Tim Bradford Lucy and I are going somewhere with Dim’s crew. Angela has the info. See you when we get back.

 You know better than to reply, so you type Be safe. I love you and return the phone to its charger. Tim would have told you where they were going if he knew, so you roll over and try to sleep, even though you don’t know where your boyfriend is or what brought you to this moment.

Angela texts you when she leaves Las Vegas. Tim will have more to do, so you don’t expect to see him until tomorrow. Besides, it’s late, and Tim most likely hasn’t slept in the past two days. You open your text thread from him and see the unsent text, then decide to leave it. You can tell him everything in person tomorrow.

It’s after dark, but you’re not sure exactly what time it is when Tim knocks on your front door. He still has greasy gel in his hair and fake tattoos lining his skin. You smile when you see him, but he walks in with no readable expression, and his hands curled into tight fists.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, as you close the door. “Did everything go well?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine and we got the guys,” Tim mumbles. “I- I don’t know how to say this.”

“You can tell me anything, Tim.”

“Lucy broke up with Chris right before we left,” he says. You’re unsure how that’s relevant, but maybe there’s a point to be made. “When we got back, I took her home to drop her off.”

You nod, and Tim runs his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you whisper.

“I realized something in Vegas.”

An uncomfortable yet familiar pressure nudges against your eyes. Everyone who says they love you decides you are meaningless.

“And you’re leaving,” you finish for him, dropping your gaze to the floor. “For Lucy.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Tim defends, stepping toward you.

“But it did.” You shrug and add, “You can go.”

“I’m–”

“It doesn’t matter. Just go, Tim.”

Tim nods once before he opens the door. With one hand on the door, he says, “Goodnight.”

And then he’s gone. You press your hand over your mouth as the first tears break over your waterline. Stumbling back, you let yourself collide with the wall before you slide down it. With your knees pulled toward your chest, you drop your head and cry for Tim, for your family, for yourself, and for all of the things that you have lost. It seems impossible to keep the things and the people you care about close, and the last seven months have led you to this point too many times.

You wipe your face harshly and stand. “Not anymore,” you decide aloud. Gathering your things, you know you need a break. There’s a diner on the corner that reminds you of home, and you walk toward it as you replay every moment of your relationship with Tim. Every mention of Lucy, every moment he was distracted or seemed to enjoy double dates with her and Chris, and all the little things that should have alerted you to the fact that there was something wrong pop into your mind.

In the diner, you place your phone on the table with the keypad shining bright. You type in a number you remember even after seven months of not dialing it and press the green button.

Miles away, a cell phone beside an open case file rings, and your father answers it without reading the caller ID. He says his last name and waits for the person on the other end to speak.

“Hello, sir,” the man says. “I’m calling about your daughter.”

Your dad sits up straighter, his breath catching at the idea of anything bad happening to you. He’s dreaded this phone call since you decided to follow in his path and become a police officer. He should have kept you close, he thinks, so that he could help keep you safe.

“She’s okay,” the man adds quickly. “Physically, at least. I’m not in the position to tell you the details, but she may need someone to support her.”

“I…”

“I know the basics, I understand it has been a while since you last spoke to her, but if my daughter were dealing with this, I’d want to know.”

“I appreciate the call. I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Wade. Sergeant Wade Grey.”

The dial tone trills once before you end the call. You planned to call your sister, but the thought of telling her that you’re heartbroken is practically admitting that your parents were right and you should have stayed home. You feel lost, and though this diner once felt like home, you need a real escape. Glancing at your phone, you sigh when you see the time. Your shift starts in six hours, so you need to go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow night, you’ll get as far from the memories of Tim and the meaningless police work you’ve grown to love.

The air is clear tonight, and you trace a random shape in the dirt beneath you as you watch the lights of Los Angeles beneath you. It’s quiet, and you wonder why you never visited the Hollywood Hills before. Tim wasn’t one for romantic outings – though he probably would for Lucy, you think suddenly – and after your first day at Mid-Wilshire, you didn’t have much time to explore on your own. So, now that you’ve had your heart broken and are completely alone, you find a pretty place and breathe.

You’re not alone, you remember. Grey heard what Tim did and helped you have a good day at work despite that. Plus, he put you on patrol far away from Tim. Grey has become like a father figure to you in Los Angeles, but you find yourself missing your blood family more often than before.

Gravel crunches behind you, and you shift so you can reach your off-duty weapon. The headlights turn off just before the driver’s door opens, and your eyes widen when your father steps out.

“Dad!” you exclaim, scrambling to your feet and rushing to hug him.

He wraps you in a warm hug, murmuring apologies as he cradles your head against his chest. He held you like this often when you were young, but you find that it’s more comforting and needed now.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” your mother says, approaching from the passenger side and joining the hug.

“I’m the most sorry,” your sister announces, smiling as she brushes your hair from your face. “I should have stood up for you. I was looking out for myself, and it wasn’t right to let you take all of that. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you reply. “All of you, so much.”

“What happened?”

You pull your lip between your teeth and shake your head. “I started dating a cop. Stupid, I know. He was great, though, and I really loved him. Still do, even though he left me for his former rookie.”

“Scumbag,” your sister grumbles. Your mom taps her shoulder and sends her a scolding look, making you smile. You really missed your family.

“He wasn’t,” you reply. “I think he ignored his true feelings for so long because we were together. They went undercover together, and he couldn’t deny it anymore, not with it staring him in the face.”

“Don’t make excuses for people,” your dad reminds you. “If he couldn’t see and appreciate how amazing you are, he didn’t deserve you. Or your tears.”

You nod and wipe a tear, suddenly remembering you never told them where you were. “How’d you find me?”

“Sergeant Grey called me last night. And he gave me a few ideas about where you may be.”

“He tracked me,” you correct with a laugh. “He’s great.”

“He really is,” your mom agrees. “I can see why you picked his station.”

“So, Tim?” your sister prods.

“Grey is keeping us separated at work for now, which I understand. I just… It was a shock. It felt like everything was falling apart. I can’t lose anyone else.”

You’re wrapped in another hug as your family reminds you, “You didn’t lose us.”

As you drive back to your house with your sister in the passenger seat and your parents behind you, you feel like the hole in your heart is being bridged. Your phone chimes with an incoming message, and your sister is happy to read your messages for you.

“It’s a group chat with Wade Grey, Angela Lopez, Nyla Harper, and Aaron Thorsen. Aaron said, ‘I was team Chenford when I got here, but now’ and Nyla tagged you in a message that says, ‘Come over if you want to talk.’ And I’m not sure I should read the ones from Angela and Wade.”

“Threatening?” you guess with a smile.

“Moderately. Wade sent you a direct one, though. ‘He looks happy. Don’t let that keep you from finding your own happiness in your own time.’ He sounds like Dad.”

“He acts like Dad.”

“Then maybe you should let him set you up.”

You laugh, and when you drive by Tim’s house on your way home, you feel a tug on your heart that won’t go away anytime soon. Though you will have trouble looking at Tim and Lucy in the weeks to come, you got your family back, and maybe your relationship with Tim and the consequent broken heart was worth that.

"You didn't send the last message to Tim," you sister says.

"It wouldn't have changed anything."

"Maybe not. You can change something. Like Wade said, find your own happiness."

[ghostgirl-22]

stanford era art having a bad day (maybe he failed a test or something, nothing too serious) but he gets really upset (like he’s gonna cry) so when he gets back to his dorm patrick is there (cuz he’s visiting) and patrick wants to take care of art, see what art needs but art is like “please just fuck me” or something along those linessss

Hello my love, thank you for the prompt <3 This got crazy long for some reason. Just needed Art wandering about feeling sorry for himself lol

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

It’s frustrating, he’s never ever failed a test before. Particularly in math. It’s not like he wants to be a math major or an engineer or anything but he’s been in advanced math since he was 14 years old, he should be able to handle this.

He tries not to cry as the professor goes over the results of their calculus based physics exam and the other students in the class are answering questions, demonstrating their work like it’s easy. Meanwhile he’s struggling to understand it. He talks to the professor after class and the professor is understanding but he explains, “these are the basics, the class is only going to get more difficult. So I suggest you withdraw and retake it after you take a more fundamental calculus course?”

Art nods and forces a smile, his throat burning as his professor pats him on the arm.

“It’s okay, plenty of students go that route and still become architects and engineers. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Art is barely aware as he treks back to his dorm. He’s never flunked out of a class. And yes, math is one of his more challenging subjects but he’s always been able to work hard enough to figure it out. Working hard is his one talent. It’s how he ended up as one of the best students at Mark Reballato, salutatorian. He used to be the one to tutor his classmates. He aced every AP and Honors course. He’d studied so hard and done so well on the SATs and yet these kids at Stanford are actual child prodigies and geniuses…and for some of them it’s like… it’s like they don’t even have to try.

By the time he gets back to his room his eyes are full of tears. Why can’t he fucking excel at anything? Why can’t he be the prodigy for once? Why does he always have to try so fucking hard?

He knows his roommate won't be home until evening and he’s so ready to throw himself on his bed and sob like a loser but as he pushes open the bedroom door he remembers Patrick is visiting. He’s there on Art’s bed watching The View, of all things, and talking on the phone with his sister.

He waves, grinning but pauses when he sees Art’s face. Art can’t even hide it, it’s too late. Tears spill from his eyes and he drops his book bag in his chair.

“Hey Tor I’ll call you back,” Patrick says, into the phone.

Art wipes the tears away quickly, angry that they’re there in the first place.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” Patrick asks.

Art shakes his head. “Nothing.”

”Seriously? You look like a kicked puppy. Come on, tell me what’s wrong. Is it your grandma… or… or tennis?”

”No Patrick, you just… you wouldn’t understand.” He knows Patrick wouldn’t take this seriously. Patrick’s just another prodigy. All their coaches telling him how brilliant he’s been at tennis since they were 11. And Tashi too, a once in a generation talent, that’s what they’re calling her.

“Try me,” Patrick says. Art stares at him. He’s lying across the width of Art’s single bed, back resting up against the wall. He’s in his boxers still, legs open, his muscular thighs spread out. Hands folded inside the Stanford t-shirt he borrowed from Art. His penetrating gaze is resting on Art and he looks concerned. And so fucking hot.

Art rubs his eyes again. He’s frustrated and angry but now he’s feeling… horny. He probably should’ve thought twice before having sex with his best friend. Everything is all silly now. He’s not sure why he did it. Well actually, he was trying to fuck with Patrick, see if he could ruin his relationship with Tashi.

He didn’t even think Patrick would go for it, just mentioned it casually on Patrick’s birthday but he came back a couple days later with all these different kinds of lube and condoms and they spent a long rainy afternoon trying to figure it all out. Exploring different positions, techniques, playing with each other. Now they're doing it all the time and the whole thing backfired because Art’s the one craving it. He walks between Patrick’s legs. “Can you fuck me?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

Art shrugs.

Patrick sits forward. “Yeah. Sure.” He says, the ghost of a smirk on his mouth. “It’s so early for you. You usually like it when I buy you dinner first.”

Art digs the heels of his palms into his eyes as stupid tears drop down again.

“Art, seriously…are you okay?” Patrick asks, tentatively. “I can help… tell me how to help.”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Art says, and he climbs onto the bed. Straddling him. “Just fuck me.”

Patrick grips him by the waist. “Mmkay, I can do that.” He says, unzipping Arts pants. He tugs Arts jeans down over his thighs and Art steps out of them. Then he’s lifting his t-shirt over his head and climbing back onto Patrick’s lap.

Patrick touches his face, rubs a thumb along the wet space on Arts cheeks. “Did someone hurt you?” He asks softly.

“No, Patrick please, I don’t want to talk about it.” Art whines. His brain is freaking out because of the tenderness and the last thing he needs is to freak out over his feelings for Patrick too.

“Alright,” Patrick says and he kisses Art. And kisses him again. Art licks at his lips and pushes his tongue inside.

He can feel Patrick getting hard underneath him as they make out. It’s so much and it happens so fast, Arts dizzy for it. “That’s a neat trick,” Art whispers. Grinding his hips against the sensation.

“That’s what you do to me,” Patrick sighs against his lips.

Art smiles. Maybe he sucks at math now but at least he’s still good at this.

“Need you lubed up,” Patrick hums. Art gets up and crawls over to his bedside table. He can feel Patrick’s large palm rubbing on the swell of his bottom as he’s bent over. Art’s got all this stuff he has to hide when his parents are in town now. He pulls lubricant out and while Patrick’s putting it on his cock Art lingers on the bed, playing with his waistband, watching while the ladies on The View are arguing about something.

“You can turn it off, my sister wanted me to watch Phil Collins perform or something,” Patrick says, distractedly.

“Okay fuck me while he performs or something.” Art says.

Patrick smirks. “Fuck, you really need to cry don’t you?”

Art takes a breath.

“Okay sorry,” Patrick says gently, “Can you lay down?”

Art settles onto his back. Keeps his legs open as Patrick crawls between and takes his boxers down. “Mm, what time does your roommate get back?”

“Later,” Art says.

“I don’t have to keep you quiet then,” Patrick smiles.

Art chews on his thumb as Patrick lines himself up to press it inside. He’s all lubed up but Art is just used to the fact that it’s always going to feel like a lot at first. He breathes through the stretch and watches amused as Patrick rubs his at Art’s pelvis. He always does that, trying to feel his own cock penetrating from the outside. “You’re always so fucking tight for me baby. Feels like I didn’t even take your virginity.” Patrick says. It’s all for his ego. He moves down to rub Art’s cock and Art moans. Wraps his legs around Patrick’s waist, wiggling his hips.

“I know, relax, I’m gonna fuck you,” Patrick breathes. He starts sliding it in and out and out and in. Patrick’s had him in so many positions but this is Art’s favorite, he can feel Patrick sinking so much deeper inside him this way. Sees stars on every other thrust and his head empties out quickly. Once he came so hard he swears he had a second orgasm two minutes later. Patrick says he just wasn’t done.

This time it feels blindingly good. He’s feeling so good, he bites down on Patrick’s shoulder to relieve some of the tension. He wonders if Tashi ever notices his marks, the way he notices hers. Sometimes when he’s really turned on he bites where she scratches.

After a few minutes he thinks he’s listening to Patrick moan but realizes belatedly that it’s him. His mouth is watering so much that he’s drooling. Patrick is grunting as his hips slam into Art at a ridiculous pace. Art feels so fucking full, he loves the feeling of Patrick warm and solid inside of him, breaching him. His body lit up like a raw nerve as Patrick hits that delicious tender spot over and over and over. He’s gonna pass out. It sounds so fucking obscene over the sound of the bed springs squeaking and Phil Collins in the background.

Art loses it first, sticky ropes of pearly white shooting out of his cock, covering Patrick’s stomach, dripping back down onto Art’s body. And then it’s too much, Art can feel everything and he’s squirming trying to get away as Patrick picks up the pace.

“No, no don’t run away… two fucking seconds stay here,” Patrick groans, gripping him tightly. It feels insane. It feels so fucking good but it’s too much and his eyes are watering again. Art swears he can honestly feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness. He’s coming again, he knows he’s coming again as Patrick finishes inside him, filling him with wet, heated, sticky cum. Art clenching on him. Keeping him inside.

Patrick’s shivering. “Fuck,” he whispers, collapsing on top of Art like a warm heavy sticky blanket.

“Mm,” Art sighs, rubbing Patrick’s back gently, to calm him down. Patrick groans and rolls off of Art onto his side right next to him. He curls his fingers into Art’s hair.

“You feel better?” Patrick asks, softly.

“Yeah,” Art says quietly. He didn’t really do anything but put it out of his mind for 30 minutes. And now he’s coming back to the reality that he’s only in his second semester of college and he already has to drop a class.

“Feel like telling me what’s wrong?”

Art rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid. I failed an exam. I studied so fucking hard and I just— everything on the test looked like it might as well have been written in a foreign language. I thought the whole class would have done poorly but it was just me.”

”What class?” Patrick asks.

“Calculus for physics,” Art sighs.

“Sounds really fucking hard,” Patrick says. “You should tell them to fuck off and come with me on the road.”

“I knew you wouldn’t get it,” Art mutters. “You don’t take any of this seriously. I’m not as good at tennis as you are. I’m not fucking good at anything. Like the one thing I thought wouldn’t be difficult which is school work and I can’t even fucking do that properly. I’m gonna have to drop and I’m not even done with my first fucking year.”

Patrick doesnt say anything for a minute, he’s still fingering Art’s curls. Then he takes a breath. “You’re good at a lot of things, Art. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up. I mean… I get it. You were top of your class in high school but all these dorks at Stanford were the best in their high schools too. I was one of the best players but now I’m on tour facing off with the best players in the world and a lot of them are fucking kicking my ass. Just… you know… Tashi always says to have a little perspective. You’re here for a fucking reason. Don’t psych yourself out before the game is over.”

Art hadn’t really thought about that, Patrick has been having a hard time on tour, Art feels a little softer for him now. He rolls over to face him wrapping a leg over Patrick’s thigh. “You think I should stay in the class? Prove them wrong?”

Patrick smiles. “No, what the fuck do you need calculus with physics for anyway?”

Art laughs a bit. “I mean… if I decide to go to med school I’ll need a physics and a calculus class… but I guess I don’t really need this specific course unless I was going to become an engineer.”

“I’ve heard you talk about being a doctor before, never an engineer.” Patrick says, “Fuck that class, find something better to do with your time.”

“Yeah…fuck it,” Art says thoughtfully, he can play with his teammates on the indoor courts in the mornings. He feels so much lighter actually. Patrick is right, he really doesn’t need this course at all. He was just so used to high school, thinking everything put in front of him was something he needed to ace. In college, none of it mattered except for what he needed for his major. Patrick’s tracing circles idly along Art’s thigh. “Mm, something better to do with my time….” Art says, smiling, “You think we can fuck again before my roommate gets home?”

Patrick smirks, “Oh absolutely.”

[jjungkookislife]

Quarterly Fic Recs 2024 #4

2024 has come to an end so here are some wonderful fics I enjoyed reading the past few months. I hope you enjoy them and as always please read the warnings of each fic and consider reblogging or commenting on a fic you enjoyed :)

Seokjin

good graces @hueseok

summary: kim seokjin doesn’t believe in luck. he’s someone who knows that in order to have good things coming your way, you have to work damn hard for it. however, that might not be the case when it comes to bad luck, because after a video of him goes viral wherein it looks like he’s screaming at someone’s grandma, he begins thinking maybe luck does exist—and it just so happens that he’s now being subjected to a lot of unluckiness.

got me all messed up @ugh-yoongi

what a line @minisugakoobies

hating you, craving you @yooniivrse

summary: you don’t exactly remember how the man you hate most ended up between your legs, but you’re not complaining.

buy me presents @muniimyg

summary: in which you and your boyfriend, jin, do a gift exchange… you get him a new game console and he gifts you his credit card

oh christmas tree @bangtanfancamp

summary: you’re looking for a fresh start and a Christmas tree when you unintentionally stumble across the worlds most attractive dimples and the sweet, gigantic, bumbling man attached to them

Yoongi

i will always love you @redrose10

minted @kithtaehyung

summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous.

a christmas miracle @hongcherry

summary: “The last person Yoongi expected to be at his friend’s party was his childhood best friend, who he had lost contact with over the years but greatly missed.”

blackthorn ch. 16 @sweetestofchaos

summary: Prince Yoongi and Princess Keena have been friends for as long as they can remember. But finding out they’re promised to one another in marriage isn’t the only obstacle they must overcome as war threatens their home.

slipping through my fingers @citrustan

summary: you’ve always thought you had it way too easy. all of a sudden, your life seems to be taking a few unexpected turns. it’s time your luck ran out.

bouquet @yooniivrse

summary: every day with you serves as a reminder that you are, in fact, the best thing that has happened to him

not yet @newmittens

summary: Yoongi’s last fan video call doesn’t go as expected…

Hoseok

grinchly yours @artaefact

summary: Christmas time is around the corner, everyone is celebrating to their heart’s content, but not you. No, you despise Christmas and the joy it brings. That is, until a friendly florist decides to pay your bookstore a visit.

day 5 @minisugakoobies

summary: Your brother’s best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies

two hundred and nineteen days @oddinary4bts

kinktober day eleven @euphoricfilter

home for christmas @augustbutwinter

summary: not being able to go home for the holidays takes a toll on you.

Namjoon

eternal reign @hisunshine

dangerous pairing @hobeemin

summary: they were never meant to be together somehow, their lives intertwined, setting in motion a chain of events that would forever change the course of their lives and the people connected to them.

don't get caught @yoonmetogether

the morning after @7ndipity

summary: Namjoon’s reaction to you waking up sore after a night together.

birthday girl @camixiez

kinktober day 14 @euphoricfilter

Jimin

a lover's redemption @writtenwhalien

summary: Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.

taste of you @divinelyparkjimin

summary: getting yourself off to your childhood friend’s sexual escapades was definitely not on your radar, but seems like it should’ve been a long time ago.

if only it was you @oddinary4bts

good for you @candlewaxandp0lar0ids

summary: Jimin can’t help the way he drowns himself in you. Why should he anyway?

Taehyung

sweetest thing @liveyun

the holi-date @kpopfanfictrash

summary: When your ex-boyfriend becomes engaged to his new girlfriend at your annual Holiday party, you admittedly are not in the best place. Which explains why you down six shots of alcohol, enthusiastically drop it low on the dance floor and – oh, yeah – tell everyone you are also dating someone. The only problem? You are obviously not. Good thing your neighbor happens to be cute and in need of a ride to work every morning.

candy cane @hamsterclaw

summary: You wake up with your head in Taehyung’s lap, and he shows you how his dick is as sweet as candy.

talk @gukslut

summary: Finals week is kicking your ass, thank goodness you have a friend to help you relieve some stress. It’s a great arrangement, as long as no one finds out... as long as you don’t catch feelings. What could go wrong?

see you @gimmesumsuga

summary: Taehyung notices you at a concert, and can’t help but want to see you again.

between the lines @btsgotjams27

summary: the boy you have a crush on loves to draw between the lines of your notebook.

Jungkook

can I keep you? @mikrokcsmos

sucker for love @jvngkook97

summary: in which your best friend happens to be a vampire and the only time he’s able to be himself in the world is during Halloween night. OR you’ve been in love with your best friend for a long ass time and want him to bite you for a change and not a random person, which for some reason, he refuses to do. they say love hurts, and damn it all that you want it too.

killing me softly ^

summary: you wake up from a night of fun, yet one you barely remember. your vampire bff ghosts you and your past comes to haunt you in the worst way possible. OR they say that blood is thicker than water, but what do you do when the person you trust most turns out to be the monster you’ve always been warned about?

clingy @bonny-kookoo

summary: In which Jungkook is a professional hybrid heat-partner who just wants to do his job

nervous @jeonbunnie

summary: Jeongguk runs into his ex-girlfriend over the holidays.

tailored @flurrys-creativity

summary: In need of a new suit you visit your trusted tailor shop again. Kim’s Tailor Shop. Though when you enter the shop the usual face of Seokjin can’t be found, instead the unfamiliar face of a young man greets you. A man, who isn’t aware of your secret, which makes getting a tailored suit way more complicated than it should be. Can you protect your secret and still get the suit in need or will your cover be blown?

diet pepsi @yooniivrse

summary: stuck in the rain, jungkook can’t resist the sweetness of your lollipop—or the taste of your lips.

baby please come home @letsbangts

summary: when he’s the only thing you want for Christmas

warm up ^

summary: when you help him warmup

server room @mister0ctopus

summary: Your new IT guy is quiet and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room, while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see that, right? Even if you can’t help but feel something, like, help him?

Multiple Members/OT7

petrichor @purpleyoonn

summary: You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

bts as situationships/fuck buddies: a speculative headcanon @kkaetnipjeon

alpha goes first @hollyhomburg

summary: Each pack has its own set of traditions and standards and as the newest omega in bangtan’s pack- you have more than a few things to learn. things come to a head when the youngest alpha tries to breed you before your pack alpha does. Seokjin doesn’t like that one bit.

before I leave you ch. 79 ^

summary: It’s Hoseok’s turn to breed you through your heat, but Namjoon won’t let him have it easily.

when you least expect it @johobi

summary: You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

[b3ach-bunn7]

I THINK YOU WERE IN MY PROFILE PICTURE ONCE PT 2

After the party, Touya can’t stop thinking about you.

Fluff, sfw, no quirk au

—————————————————————————

It’s been six days and Touya can’t stop thinking about you.

He had been right about the party. The end of it at least. He’d shaken you awake and you rushed off to find your friend, a smile and wave goodbye all he had to remember you by. You were late, apparently, too late to stop and give him anything to remember you by. He’d gone home soon after, slipping out before Hawks could berate him for leaving too early.

While Touya had settled for less, had made peace with the fact that you were to be another girl he’d spoken too at a party, he hadn’t been able to get you out of your head. For whatever reason he didn’t want you to just be another girl at a party he’d never speak to again. Touya wanted to see you again and he had no idea how.

What makes the situation ten times worse is he didn’t even get your name. He’s racked his brain for the past couple days and he had come to the embarrassing conclusion that not only did he not get your number, but he was also stupid enough not to ask you what you're called. Maybe if Touya had managed that, he could find your socials. A friend in your course could find your number. Or he could convince Fuyumi to do her weird girly stalk thing and find your mother’s Facebook. But alas, he could do none of that. 

Touya yawns. He scratches at the stubble that’s been growing on his face the past few mornings. It’s a rare day when the weather is warm enough in November for him to wear a short-sleeve, and he abuses the chance while he can. It’s shifts like this, where the shop is empty apart from a few dawdling customers he knows aren’t here to get anything done, that everything drags on.

Touya had (un)subtly hinted at his friend's tattoo and piercing shop because he works there, and it’d be an ample opportunity for him to see you again. Of course, in the past six days he hadn’t seen your face, but that was neither here nor there. It was a nice joint. It looks like any other tattoo shop, designs hung up on the walls, one side of the shop filled with shelves of piercings and jewellery. One side was reserved for tattooing and the other for piercing. Touya works in both parts of the shop, wherever he’s needed most. He has plenty of piercings to prove it but he’s never gotten any tattoos. His skin is marred enough as is. 

The pay was good, and the hours weren’t long. Touya gets on annoyingly well with his coworkers, too. They’re all his age apart from Toga, who, funnily enough, is the same age as Shoto. That’s where all their similarities end, though. She’s loud and full of annoyingly eager energy that he’s grown fond of, unfortunately. The only thing his job is missing in a pretty girl with shitty wired headphones

Touya drums his fingers against the counter. The day has been slow and his fingers itch to do something. Touya thinks, in another life, he might’ve been an artist. Touya loved drawing and painting and all forms of it, but even his mother wouldn’t let him choose it for university. And she never said no to him. Psychology was a second best, another interest he’d dug up from his ass when he realised he actually was going to make it past fifteen.

A job like this, where some shifts Touya can just sit and draw and design things for people, It’s his dream. Maybe he’ll open up a therapist agency next door so he can keep working here part-time.

Touya decides drawing is what he’ll do. He’s got a couple clients expecting things from him. He grabs a scrap of paper from under the desk. The first biro he finds is pink, and he lets spirals and flowers and whatever designs pop up in his head spread across the page. 

“Hey, it’s you!”

Touya thinks that maybe he might have fallen asleep and started dreaming when he hears your voice. But then he looks up, and there you are, grinning like Christmas has come early. You’re wearing a black coat and a scarf, thick and long enough he’s sure you can use it as a blanket. Your jeans are embroidered, colourful flowers leaving a trail down your thighs, and when Touya’s eyes flick back up to your face your cheeks are dusted red from the cold.

“Why the hell are you wearing a short sleeve shirt? Are you mad? It’s freezing out.” You huff, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck.

Touya just watches you. The logical part of his brain tells him that he should probably say something, but instead he just watches as you shrug your coat off. You’re wearing a shirt with what he thinks might be an album cover. Its red and green and yellow, splatters of watercolour, not something he recognises. Touya hopes you’ll play it for him. You finally look up at him, stuffing your earbuds in your pockets.

“You’re awfully quiet today.” You smile.

You lean against the counter, mimicking his position. The two of you are just a little too close for any average customer and cashier interaction, but he doesn’t care, and he is pretty sure you don’t either.

“Just shocked. Didn’t think you’d take me up on the piercing offer.” Touya says.

“Well. I was promised someone called Shiggy, not my nap partner.” Touya snorts at your words and you smile slightly.

Touya gestures around the shop. You follow his hands, looking around the empty store, before landing back on him.

“We’re empty. Only one working right now is me.”

“Well. That doesn’t sound up to code.”

Touya shrugs. “We’re always quiet at this time. My boss is in the back and my coworker is on the way. I’m the best guy here for the job.”

You hum under your breath, nodding. You bite at your thumbnail. Touya tilts his head slightly, and you smile at him nervously. 

“You doing alright?” He asks.

“Yes. Well. No. I’m scared.”

“What are you looking to get done today?” Touya walks round the counter, leaning one hip on it and crossing his arms. Your eyes dart very briefly to his biceps and he is suddenly very thankful he wore a short sleeve today, and that he’d gone to the gym yesterday.

“A piercing.”

“Which one?”

“I’m thinking nipples?”

Touya stammers. He can feel his ears redden and you last all of five seconds with a straight face before you burst out laughing.

“It’s a joke! I’m joking!” You cackle, hands up in the air. “The look on your face!”

Touya rolls his eyes as you wipe tears from under your own, turning his head so you don’t see the flush on his face. “Ha Ha. Very funny.”

“I know, I’m hilarious. What I actually want is a nose piercing.” You tap the side of your nose and Touya nods.

“Okay, cool. That’ll be twenty, including a stud.” 

He reaches under the counter and grabs a consent form. He passes you a pen and gestures you over.

“Here, sign this. Just a safety thing.”

He watches as you scribble your name at the bottom. It’s pretty. Suits you. You bite at your bottom lip and he smiles slightly. You’re not saying anything, but the nerves sit clearly on your face.

“You’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt that bad.” He reassures.

You glance up at him and worry darts across your face. “You mean it?” You ask, passing back the form. 

Touya starts walking further into the shop and you follow next to him. “Yes, I’m sure. You can hold my hand if you’re really that scared.” He teases.

“Shut up. I might have to. I feel like I’m going to pass out.” You huff.

Touya lets the two of you into a room. You sit down on the chair in the middle of it, and Touya starts grabbing all the things he needs. The disinfectant, a mirror, the needle. You’re too quiet, and when he glances behind him you’re staring at him.

He shakes the disinfectant in the air. “Enjoying the show?”

“Shut up.” 

He brings all the stuff to the small table next to you. Touya puts his hands on his hips and you look up at him.

“What?”

“You still look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

You shove him away. “Shut up. Again. Just get it over with.” 

Touya laughs. “Okay, okay. So. I’m going to use a pen to mark where I’m going to do it. Then I’ll grab the needle and you take a big breath in. And when you breathe out I pierce you and it’s done.” 

He puts on a pair of black gloves as he speaks. He acts like he doesn’t see your eyes following his movements, the lithe movements of his fingers. 

You look back up at his face. “Okay. That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Touya nods. “It’s not. Now you want it on the left or right?” He passes you a mirror and you look through it.

“What do you think will look good?” 

“I think you’ll look pretty with both.”

“Aw. You think I’m pretty?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

“Pretty good. Is what I meant to say. Maybe ugly even.”

You giggle and he grabs the mirror out of your hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll do the right side.”

Touya nods. His hand comes up and turns your face to the side, fingers grazing your jaw. The touch is fleeting but it makes him nervous. Like he’s thirteen with a crush on his babysitter. He clears his throat, desperate to distract from how close the two of you are right now.

“So. What made you change your mind about getting something done?”

“Well. I kept thinking about you.” 

It’s Touya’s turn to raise an eyebrow and watch your face redden under his gaze.

“Aw. You were thinking about me?”

You smile cheekily. “Of course! That was the best thirty minute nap I’ve had in my life. I’ve been chasing that high ever since.”

Touya scoffs slightly. His hand finds your jaw again, lifting up your face. You words stutter slightly as he does so. The room settles into soft silence and he reaches forward and dots your nose with his marker. He leans back slightly and you’re close, close enough that he can see the fluffiness of your eyelashes, the blemishes on your skin. You smell so good, something sweet and girly and he breathes it in, scared he’ll forget. Your eyes are trailing over his face, just like how Touya’s doing to you. 

Touya steps back. He needs to be professional. He needs to calm down before he throws himself on you. 

“That's all I am to you? A shoulder to nap on?” He pouts and you laugh.

“Something like that. I also realised I never got your number. Or your socials. Or even your name.” You say.

Touya grabs the needle, sanitising it quickly and tossing the wet wipe away. “I also realised that. I'm Touya, by the way.” 

You say your name back and he nods. “Pretty.”

“You can’t flirt with your customers, Touya. Very unprofessional.”

His name sounds so soft on your tongue, and he wants you to say it again, never stop saying it.

“Who said I’m flirting?”

“You call all your customers pretty?” “Only the ones who can’t stop thinking about me.” 

You roll your eyes. Touya is tall enough that when he drags over a stool and sits down he still towers over you a little. Your fingers grip the edge of the chair you’re sitting on. You eye the needle in his hands and he hides it behind his back.

“Don’t look. You’ll freak yourself out more.” He chides, and you huff.

“What, should I just keep my eyes shut the whole time?”

Touya shrugs. “If you want. I’ll talk you through it.” 

Your eyes widen slightly and Touya laughs nervously.

“Like- I’ll tell you what I’m doing. By talking. While I’m doing it. It- the piercing.” 

You smile teasingly and he taps your knee so you’ll close your eyes, before you see how flustered he looks. You comply quickly, and god you’re just so beautiful. You swing your legs slightly and it’s only when confusion teases at the edges of your eyebrows he realises he’s been staring at you like a freak for so long. In silence. 

Touya’s voice is low when he speaks again. “Alright. I need you to breathe in for me.”

Your chest rises as you breathe in quickly. “And I’ll countdown, and when I reach one you breathe out quickly and I pierce you. Easy, right?”

You nod. Your eyes are screwed shut and Touya thinks you feel the shiver that runs down his spine when you reach forward and grab his forearm. Right over his scars. You don’t seem to care though, fingers finding comfort in him despite the marred skin on his body. 

“Three. Two. One.” 

You breathe out loudly and the needle goes through. Your eyes water slightly and your grip on him tightens.

“Good girl, see? Wasn’t that bad.” He soothes, putting the stud in your nose. 

He places the needle onto the table and grabs the mirror. Your eyes are still shut tightly and you’re still holding onto him. Touya takes off his gloves and pats your hand.

“You can look now.” He says. 

You open your eyes and take the mirror from his hand. Your face lights up lightly and you let go of him to touch the piercing gingerly, and he misses the cooling touch of your fingertips immediately.

“Wow. It’s cute! And it didn’t even hurt that bad, either.”

“I told you.” 

You sigh happily. And then you look at Touya again. He feels nervous under your gaze, so intense and so focused on him.

“Thank you, Touya.”

“Its, uh. It’s no issue. It’s my job.”

The two of you talk as he leads you back to the counter, basic housekeeping for your new piercing,  but he can’t help but think about the fact you’re going to leave and he might not see you again for god knows how long. As nervous as you make him Touya is not going to pussy out twice.

“So. What are you doing in two hours?” He asks, leaning over the counter.

You pause from where you’re cocooning back into your puffer coat and scarf. You blink at him owlishly. 

“Me?”

“No, the other person standing in front of me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. You loop your scarf around your neck before looking back up at him.

“Nothing. What are you doing in two hours?”

“Taking you out, hopefully.” He says.

You laugh nervously, face heating, and god if you keep looking at him like that he’s going to get fired for doing indecent things to a customer.

“Alright, Touya. You want me to meet you back here?”

“Nah, I’ll come pick you up.” 

You nod, biting back a smile. “Well. In that case.”

You grab the pink biro Touya had forgotten on the counter. And then your hands, still cold compared to the heat that blooms against his skin, wrap around his wrist and drag him closer. You lean over slightly, writing you number across the small of his arm.

“God, you’re so warm.” You mumble, ending the long string of numbers with a poorly drawn heart.

“You’re hands are freezing.” He replies.

And before he really thinks he’s grabbing your hand in his own, and both of your hands could fit in one of his, and god he is a creep. You just smile though, squeezing once before letting go to grab your bag.

“Good think I’ve got you to warm them up for me.” You grin, waggling your fingers in the air.

Touya just nods. Your grin widens at his silence, and before he knows it you’re waving goodbye and he’s left wishing you’d come back.

—————————————————————————

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE 🥳it took me a scarily long time to finish this 😭i had sooo much uni work I literally had no time but I’ve been (once again) in love with Touya so I had to finish this fic

This was heavily based on a post I saw from @tragikomizm of artstudent! Touya that I LOVED so deffo check out her stuff!

Anyways I hope u all enjoyed :P I really do love writing these and I will try and get more stuff out! Also if anyone has any good ao3 fic reccoemndation (happy endings plz) PLZ COMMENT I JEED SMTH TO READ!

[tojislibrvry]

★ ︵ @ nanami / reader , fluff , pre - relationship , slight power imbalance

being an intern is ... hard. the pay is barely anything, the work load makes death look appealing and the managers well, they hate you. at least they act like they do.

after a long morning of shadow work and running after your manager to print individual copies of meeting documents, you are sick. all you want to do is go home and pass out for the rest of the day.

you didn't have time for breakfast and with all the running around, not enough for even a pick-me-up drink. it's exhausting and you hate it but you need this stupid internship.

after a quick sob session in the restroom, you come back to throw yourself on a spinning chair that you are convinced is going to be the root cause of your premature back pain.

you are busy muttering curses under your breath when you hear someone clearing their throat. you turn your chair to see fucking nanami kento, a senior manager in the company and your work crush. he is the coolest, you've seen him diffuse the most complex situations in seconds and he's always so humble about it. never too proud despite his insane skill level.

"... everything good?" he asks, voice deep enough to make your body react on its own. you take a good thirty seconds to realise that he's talking to you.

eyes wide and lips parted, you answer.

"y-yes sir! of course, do you need me to print any documents?" you ask, palms sweating.

and he laughs.

he fucking laughs and it is the best thing you've ever heard. it's low and gritty but god he sounds so good laughing.

"sir? nanami is more than enough." he then looks around awkwardly before handing you something. you finally notice the coffee cup in his hand.

"huh?" "it's for you."

"oh." you giggle. you take a sip and it's perfect.

the temperature is not too hot, the coffee is not too sweet and it's the right ratio of whipped cream to milk. you don't know what he ordered but you do know that you can't go back to drinking normal coffee.

"uhm- thank you!!" you swallow, "this is perfect! but is there like an employee event today?" you still don't know why he got you the coffee.

"oh," he chuckles, "no, i just wanted to see you smile."

[florencebirdsong]

Healer Knows Best - Chapter Two || WIP Wednesday

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Chapter One

Here is a sneak peak for wip wednesday :) The full chapter will be coming to a dash near you soon :3

tags: thoughts about masturbation, talk about orgasming

You’re back at Healer Harkness’ place much sooner than you were hoping. Which was somewhere between the next day and never.

You had attempted to treat yourself, multiple times. But no matter how good it had felt you hadn’t been able to...finish it like Healer Harkness had. You had hoped that it wasn’t necessary, that it would just make the gel more potent if you did. But the feeling inside of you, which had been so minorly tempered after your trip to Agatha’s, grew exponentially every time you tried to treat it yourself.

It has only been embarrassment at your inability to do what she said and how the feeling grew every time you thought of her that kept you away for so long. But it’s become unbearable. The few moments you’re able to not  think about it have become rare and only the smallest things tilts your thoughts back towards Agatha and her hut.

So, you forced yourself back down the long path before anyone noticed how unwell you are.

Knocking on her door a second time is easier but waiting for her to answer is so much harder. The heat inside of you banks a little at the thought of her not being home but the longing flares.

It’s the same agony that’s been haunting you since you left.

The door opens and the look on Agatha’s face changes the moment she sees you. 

“Back again?” she asks as she opens the door wider and allows you inside. You duck your head as you nod. She doesn’t sound disappointed exactly but she doesn’t sound surprised either. “Healing or ingredients?” she asks just like the first time.

“The um- the same thing as before,” you say. 

“Oh, yes,” her eyes run down your body. “Your little problem.”

“It’s, um, it’s not so little anymore,”you try not to squirm.

“The treatment isn’t working?”

“I’m not sure,” you wrap your arms around yourself. It still feels so strange to be talking about this with another, even though she is your healer. “You said I had to do the thing. And I wasn’t able to on my own.”

“The thing?” she asks. “Do I need to remind you of what I said last time?”

She doesn’t but you had hoped.

“You weren’t there to- I mean I wasn’t able to- to come,” you stutter. 

It’s easier to say than the other word since you hadn’t heard it before Agatha but it still feels dirty, despite it being the proper term.

[riinniies]

ITOSHI RIN X FEM! READER

Plot : Some short stories of Rin and you after marriage, Rin and you from Soulmate AU and red string of fate.

Fluff! Husband rin, Wife reader, rin is no longer tsun tsun.. he's growing up guys :'(, and i'm seriously wanted to write smut but its impossible and embarassing idk why..

this is BONUS CHAPPP ! !

Words count : 795

PART ONEEE ! !

PART TWOO ! !

My writings

I hope you like ittt !! <33

BONUS CHAPTER : After the marriage

• A Few Months After

Marrying Rin was a journey full of small surprises. No life is truly perfect, but with Rin, you learn that imperfections make your relationship stronger.

That morning, you were busy in the kitchen trying out a new pancake recipe. The pan in front of you started to smoke, and the pancake batter in it looked more abstract than a perfect circle. Rin appeared at the kitchen doorway, wearing a jogging shirt slightly damp with sweat. He leaned against the doorframe, surveying the messy kitchen.

"Are you experimenting with food or inventing a new weapon?" he teased, folding his arms across his chest.

You rolled your eyes, giving him a look of protest. "I'm trying to make pancakes for us. But clearly, I'm not as good as I thought."

Rin walked closer, peering into the pan on the stove. With his signature deadpan tone, he remarked, "It looks like this pancake has given up on life."

"Then why don’t you help instead of criticizing?" you challenged, glaring at him.

He sighed, took the spatula from your hand, and started making pancakes with surprisingly skilled movements. You watched in silence, slightly confused but impressed.

"You know how to cook?" you finally asked, breaking the silence.

Without looking at you, he replied, "When you live alone long enough, you learn to survive. I don’t like relying on others."

His answer was simple, but somehow, it made you smile.

• One Year After

Your life together had found a comfortable rhythm, even though Rin was often busy with his training schedule. You continued your art projects, which were becoming more recognized. Still, there were simple moments you always cherished together, like that evening.

Rin had just returned from a long training session. You were sitting in the living room, reviewing sketches for an upcoming exhibition. He approached you, looking tired but still making time to come closer.

"What are you drawing this time?" he asked, glancing at your sketchbook.

"Landscapes of the cities we’ve visited," you answered, showing him a few pages.

He studied the drawings carefully. "Why always landscapes? Why not try something more… abstract?"

His question made you look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You like abstract art?"

He gave a small nod.

"Sometimes, things that aren’t clear are more intriguing. Like us when we first met."

You fell silent, realizing how far your relationship had come. Even though Rin wasn’t the best with words, everything he said felt sincere.

After five years together, your relationship was filled with small routines that made your home feel warmer. Rin often spent his time coaching young players, while you worked from home on commissioned art projects.

• Five Years After

One day, Rin came home with a serious expression. You were busy in your studio, working on a large mural you had just started.

"Look at this," he said, placing an invitation on the table.

You picked it up, reading the text on the card. "Best Young Coach Award? Rin, this is amazing!"

He simply nodded, as if it weren’t a big deal. But you knew this recognition meant a lot to him.

"You always underestimate yourself," you said with a smile.

He looked at you and replied calmly, "Because I know someone will always believe in me, even when I’m unsure."

• Ten Years After

Now, you lived in a modest house on the outskirts of the city. Rin had retired from football and focused on mentoring, while you ran a small art studio that also served as a gallery.

You had a five-year-old son who shared his father’s serious demeanor but had a wild imagination that often made you laugh.

One night, after your son had fallen asleep, Rin sat on the back porch with a cup of tea. You joined him, sitting in the chair next to his.

"We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?" he said suddenly, gazing at the stars above.

You turned to him, smiling softly. "Yes. Sometimes I still can’t believe we’ve made it this far."

He looked at you, and for the first time that evening, you saw a deeply genuine smile on his face. "You know, my life has been better since I met you."

You held his hand, feeling the familiar warmth. "I feel the same way, Rin."

In the quiet of the night, under a sky full of stars, you both knew your journey together was far from over. But whatever lay ahead, you were ready to face it as long as you were together.

2nd THE ENDDD!!

|| Thank you (again) for reading my works, i love u guys :'xxx

[thoughtfulfiction]

Hike of a Lifetime

Author’s Note: Set in the 2022 offseason after Justin’s labrum surgery in January 2023. Rewriting my first Justin fic is a full circle moment for me so I hope you like this one!

The last two hours of your life had been spent going over orders of Gatorade protein shakes, protein pack quick bites that usually contained some sort of cheese and sausage, various brands of Greek yogurt, apples, bananas, blueberries, granola bars and anything else you could think of to stock the weight room with while you were on vacation. You had been the head nutritionist for the UCLA men's basketball team for the last year, making customized, ever changing meal plans and consulting with the health care staff to enhance your athlete's performance to the best of your ability.

After the team's loss to Gonzaga in the NCAA tournament known as March Madness, you ran to Eugene, Oregon at the first opportunity you had to go see your sister Chloe. March up until this point was one busy day after another, truly living up to the name. Most days you didn't even feel like you got to sit down for more than 10 minutes at a time due to the constant travel and meetings you had to attend. So you took a week off and as soon as you closed your laptop today, you were going to enjoy being one with nature.

Chloe had moved to Eugene two years before you got your LA job, working as a team photographer for the University of Oregon's football team, allowing the two of you to see each other during conference play more often, which had done wonders for your relationship. It's one thing to be siblings but you could genuinely call her a friend now, which was both weird to say aloud, and nice.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Chloe steps into the living room, breaking you out of your vigorous typing. You look up and groan at the guilty look on her face. That was definitely an I have a work emergency and I’m going to be leaving you, look.

"No. You're not canceling on me. I got here two days ago and I have yet to really be outside. How am I supposed to enjoy some of the most beautiful scenery of my life if I'm stuck at the house the whole time? Does spring ball even matter anyway?"

Chloe laughs, heading into the kitchen to grab a snack. You'd recently lectured her about how although cereal is a grain, she can't consider it a food group and she needs to introduce more of a balanced variety in her diet. Unless she enjoys her daily 4pm sugar crash. She surprises you by pulling out a bowl of overnight oats from the fridge, with strawberries on top. After giving her your nod of approval, she gets back to the issue at hand. "Yes, spring ball matters. But I promise you it will not take me that long, I'll be back before you know it."

You huff out a breath, trying to come up with a solution. "What if you have one of your interns do it? Mine are really holding down the fort this week, I'm obviously working from home to help them out a little and I think you should do the same."

"Well our jobs are a little different. I can give them things to edit and post but I don't want to have to approve every single one of their photos and make sure they're featuring the right position groups and players based on a schedule that I created in my head. It'll just be easier if I'm there to walk them through it and then I can come home and we'll have a relaxing week until you have to be back in messy Hollywood."

"It's just Los Angeles, not Hollywood, genius. I still work at a university just like you do," you laugh at her exaggerated version of the place you now call home.

She rolls her eyes, stepping away from her food to grab her keys. "Same difference. It's all polluted air and earthquakes anyway."

Finally finished with your task, you stand up to snatch the keys out of her hand and lead the way to the garage. "Whatever, I'm in clean air now and would really like to be able to experience it. So I'll be dropping you off and getting to my hike."

You get out of the car and the sun immediately hits your skin, not in a way that’s intense but rejuvenating, bringing you back to life. The scent of early spring, mixed in with the sweet smell of freshly bloomed rhododendron sparks a further revival. The air really is different here. Life is more…undisturbed.

Families are getting out of their vehicles without a crushing sense of urgency that you’re used to, people are laughing and enjoying each other’s company and you’ve been to this park before so you feel somewhat comfortable navigating the terrain on your own, opting to quiet the sounds of the world by listening to a podcast during your leisurely stroll. Without even making it a mile on the trail, you spot a friendly black dog making his way over to you, nudging your leg with his wet nose, essentially demanding that you pet him. You usually probably wouldn’t have but the serene energy of the space you’re in brings it out of you.

“Well hello there, buddy. Who do you belong to?” You bent down to search for a name on his collar. “Dylan, that’s a cute name. Should we go find who you came here with before someone has a heart attack?” You laughed softly as the dog happily panted away and let you grab onto the leash. Before you could even take a step, you heard a booming voice calling out the dog’s name.

The distressed figure comes into view and lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much for grabbing him. I’m so sorry if he’s bothering you, I bent down to tie my shoe and this guy decided to make a break for it.”

“He’s taking advantage of the fact that you only have one good arm.” You point out, remembering the shoulder surgery announcement you saw in the LA Times. The man was probably getting used to having both arms again. “No worries, he’s sweet. And super friendly.” You handed him the leash and he thanked you again.

“I seriously owe you, my mom would’ve killed me if I lost our dog when I just got home.” He chuckles nervously. God his laugh was cute. “I’m sorry, I never got your name. I’m Justin.”

“I know.” You smile. “It’s nice to meet you though, I’m y/n. Hope you enjoy the rest of your hike.” You grabbed your AirPods and went to place them back in your ears to finish getting lost in your own little world once again before he stops you.

“Wait—maybe we could finish out the hike…together? You know, just so Dylan doesn’t take advantage of me again.” Maybe he was just being cautious because there was no way he was flirting with you…right?

Those green eyes were going to get you in trouble and you knew it. But you were on a beautiful scenic getaway and hiking with Justin Herbert wasn’t going to come around every single day.

“Let’s do it. Wouldn’t want you to hurt your shoulder even more chasing after Dylan. Bolt nation might collectively collapse if anything happens to you so I’m calling this a public service.”

He unsuccessfully tries to stifle a laugh. “What a Good Samaritan you are.”

Justin was funny. And sweet. And the most fun company you’ve had in a while. You talked about your job, the entire NCAA tournament and what you both thought about being in LA. Even though you both lived very different lives, it was filled with sports and schedules and meetings and practices and there were a lot of things to bond over. Before you knew it you’d been out there for three hours and Rachel texted you to let you know she was done and ready to resume your sisterly activities. He took a look at your deflated expression.

“Do you need to head out?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” You whispered. “This was fun though.”

He readjusts the hat on his head. “Yeah this was great. Um, I meant what I said earlier though. I owe you.” He gestures towards the phone in your hands and you hand it to him watching him type in his number, texting himself immediately so he has yours.

“Maybe we could grab dinner or something before you head back to LA?” He states pensively, holding his breath a bit until you answer.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The two of you head back to the parking lot and you give Dylan one more pat on the head. You look up to meet Justin’s gaze, shy smiles painting both of your faces. He walked you all the way to your car and waved goodbye as you drove away to meet Rachel.

While you waited all you could do was stare at your phone, Justin had given you his number and you had his. He’d put his actual contact information in your phone AND had asked you to go to dinner. None of this felt like real life, what kind of person stumbles upon an NFL quarterback on a normal hike?

“Why are you smiling like that? It scares me.” Chloe interrupts your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized she opened the door and got in the car. “Did that hike change your life or something?” She finished with a dry laugh.

“I’m not sure, but I think it may have…”

Rachel nods her head slowly, desperately hoping to understand what’s going on. “Yeah okay whatever. Let’s get some lunch because I am absolutely starving.”

You put the car in drive, your phone notifying you of a text from its spot on the dashboard car mount. Rachel grabs it and asks, “who the hell is Justin and why is he asking if you’re free tomorrow night?”

“Just some guy I met while hiking, no big deal,” you tried and failed to be nonchalant. She knew you way better than that.

“If it’s really no big deal then tell that to the gigantic smile on your face. You’re going on that date. I’m texting him back to let him know you’ll be free.”

All that Chloe knows is his name. The rest of it you decide to keep to yourself not only to respect his privacy but you want to keep this special thing for you and only you. In case this doesn’t go anywhere, you’ll always have the memory of today and whatever happens on Friday to look back on fondly. And by telling your sister you’re putting a little bit more pressure on it, like this has to become something. You don’t really know this guy yet, only the small tidbits that he shared on the walk and that his family dog’s name is Dylan, who would run away with any stranger if enough treats were offered.

There are so many things going through your mind as you change your outfit for the fourth time tonight. What if he thinks you’re boring? Or he’s boring? What happens if the two of you run out of things to say and you’re just sitting in the restaurant in awkward silence until someone decides to call it a night? Even worse, what if this is the best date you ever go on, you fall for him and then never hear from him again because he’s an NFL quarterback and you sometimes spend three hours a day planning out breakfast options for 18-22 year old basketball players.

You glanced in the mirror, slinging a tiny black purse over your shoulder with a subtle smirk on the way out the door at your final clothing choice. Chloe mentioned that the car outside being a super nice Porsche and you made something up about thinking that he worked in finance or a job closely related to that so she wouldn't keep digging for more information. All she followed up with was "have fun and be safe."

Ambrosia's staff walked you and Justin into the restaurant by the back entrance into a private room, which was the most abnormal part of the night. The rest of the evening was spent consuming seafood stuffed mushrooms, pasta and sharing a classic tiramisu, the best one you'd ever had in your life.

The nerves that once seeped through every pore were quickly replaced with what a vacation was supposed to feel like. Conversation flowed easily, there was no pressure to be perfect or funny or overly sexy. Justin was so…normal. He was pretty, not in a way that was intimidating because you really weren’t sure he realized how attractive he actually is. But pretty in a sense that everything about him made him more attractive. His ability to actively listen to the words you say and bring them back up when it’s relevant. The way his dimples are more pronounced when he laughs. The way he stops mid conversation to say thank you to the service staff every time they refill his water. There wasn’t a bone in his body that wasn’t filled with humility and kindness. Everything he did was gentle. And on top of all of that he paid without hesitation.This date truly had been a breath of fresh air.

“Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun.”

His lips curl into a smile, “this was probably the best first date I’ve had.” He doesn’t know why he’s just admitted that to you, but he’s glad it’s out there now.

“Me too,” you stand up out of your chair after he does, a collection of butterflies appearing in your stomach when he places a hand on the small of your back, before encasing his hand with yours to lead you out of the restaurant.

“When are you heading back to LA?” He asks. You only know that because you’re reading his lips and not listening to a word he’s saying. You really want to kiss him.

You hesitate to lean in, bringing your focus back to his eyes, meeting his soft gaze. “I’ll be here for a couple more days, then it’s back to work. What about you?”

“Tomorrow…” he begins, slowly losing his train of thought when a little bit of the light goes out in your eyes. Should he kiss you before he leaves in the morning or wait until you’re both back in California with busy schedules and no clue if and when you’ll see each other again? “…I don’t want to leave now due to some unforeseen circumstances,” he laughs, “unfortunately I’ve got some stuff to take care of. But I’ll call you and we can maybe do this again?”

“Yeah. Definitely. I’ll see you around.” He gave you a warm hug on the way out and you watched him walk away to his car, smiling to yourself at the thought of a second date. You couldn’t wait for that phone call.

Two weeks later...he still hasn’t called. You would’ve been surprised had you not prepared yourself for this very scenario. Even with all of this so-called “preparation,” the radio silence from him still stung. Who would’ve thought this would happen? The NFL quarterback is busy with his offseason recovery while the girl he went on one singular date with continues to replay minute by minute interactions they had. No one could’ve seen this coming. The thought of that date feels like so long ago and the fact that you can remember it in vivid detail is a feels a little humiliating. You can’t even look at an Apple Watch without your stomach ending up in knots.

You've closed your office door today, taking a few hours to yourself in between meetings. Earlier in the day you and the rest of the staff had to sit through a Tyr presentation, listening to the representatives of the brand try to sell you their endurance sports drink and leaving you with some samples. Then you had CLIF come in with some new energy chew flavor samples for the guys to try. All of the boxes of products now sat in your office and you really hoped to spend the rest of the day going through the food budget, managing receipts and preparing for your first year presentations for when the new freshman arrived sometime in June. You were glancing back and forth between Whole Foods receipts and Amazon orders when your phone rang. Too busy and in the middle of crunching numbers, you ignored the call. Then it started ringing again. You stop what you're doing, assuming that if someone is calling you twice in a row, it must be urgent. The contact name flashing on the screen has you frozen in time.

It was Justin.

Even though you've been alone in your office for a while, you look around to make sure you're not making this up and this is actually happening. He's calling you. Finally.

"Hello? Who is this?" You can hear him shuffling around, probably walking around in a circle aimlessly just like you are. Despite your best efforts to seem unfazed.

"I deserve that," he cringes. "I'm so sorry for not calling you sooner."

"What—what made you call me now?"

He can tell your voice is softer than when you first answered, and he missed hearing it. "Um...life got a little ahead of me and that's not an excuse. I just—didn't want you to think that I wasn't ever going to call," he pauses, "can I make you dinner? Tonight? If you're free. And we can talk in person."

You look at the door with a sigh, contemplating your entire existence. And then you think...fuck it. "Yeah sure, I'm free tonight. Text me your address and I'll be there around 7?"

"Seven works, I'll see you tonight."

His house is perfectly spotless. There is just no way that a single adult man in his 20s is naturally this organized and clean. Even the cat, who he introduces to you as Nova, a gorgeous Bengal walks around like she owns the place, greeting you briefly (sizing you up) before trotting away without a second glance. Justin walks you into the kitchen where he's in the middle of plating the meal. He just looked good doing normal things, filling glasses of water, opening and closing the fridge, taking off his apron. You really needed to get a grip. "It smells great in here chef, what's on the menu?"

He laughs a little, presenting his dish like he's the star of a Food Network show. "Tonight I've made for you a Traeger filet mignon seasoned with the Traeger seasoning and chimichurri sauce with a side of roasted garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus."

You happily clap for his A+ presentation and he gives you a bow. "Justin, this looks amazing! I can't wait to dig in."

The man leads you to the table, setting the plate down in front of you before grabbing a seat right next to you. "So...let me explain."

Taking a bite of your food, you shake your head. "You really don't have to explain yourself, we went on one date. There's nothing to explain I mean—”

"Yeah there is. I want you to know that I wanted to call sooner, I really did. But I came back and had to meet with doctors to make sure my recovery was on track and then the draft happened and then I had to talk about the future of my contract and I didn't want the craziness of my life to overshadow what we have going on. The last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you're being put on the backburner."

Unbeknownst to you, he had also been replaying that date...more often that he'd like to admit. Anytime he had a minute to himself he thought about calling, seeing what you're doing. And then there was a meeting, or a draft party or someone needing him to be somewhere. But you were always on his mind and he was glad to now have life slow down a little bit to show you he really did care.

"I get it. Definitely thought you forgot about me there for a second. A few seconds," you correct yourself. "But I knew you were busy and we're here now so you're forgiven. Especially because this steak is incredible."

"Well thank you," he smiles sheepishly.

He begged you not to help him clean up but you insisted. After everything was put away he gave you a tour of the place and then you sat on the couch looking for a movie to watch until the stack of puzzles on the shelf caught your eye.

"You haven't unwrapped this one. Is it new?" You note the plastic wrap lining the box on the shelf meeting you at eye level. The flowers look familiar but you can't exactly remember where you've seen them before.

“There's a lot of flowers at the park we met. Any rhododendron I see now," he nods at the box in your hand, "makes me think of you. So I bought this. Figured we could do it together.” The way he's looking at you when you turn around makes you feel warm and tingly inside.

Something about being with him is addicting. You feel physically drawn to him, this pull, an invisible hold that he has on your heart that soon makes you want to run for the hills. But you know that the second you’re away from him it’ll feel like an important new part of your life has been ripped away. It almost felt like the universe had sent Justin to you as an apology for all men. Even doing something as simple as a puzzle feels like the most romantic thing in the world. All of the pieces are laid out on the table and you tackle the corners first, working from the outside in. You're sitting so close to each other that your arms are touching, reaching and grabbing at the puzzle pieces in sync like a well oiled machine. He pulls you into his lap toward the end when there's a few pieces left, giving you a high five when all 300 pieces are in their rightful place. Your hand is in his once again, like it belongs there, holding you close and steady.

He lets you go momentarily to cup your face, a look of adoration adorning his that makes your chest clench. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for the last 22 days," Justin whispers, his face so close to yours you can feel his breath on your lips.

"Then why are you still waiting?" You whisper back, barely able to finish your sentence because he's nipping at your bottom lip, teasing you slightly as he runs his thumb across your jaw. You're a puddle in his hands, his lips on yours kissing you with his heart pounding against his chest like he's never kissed anyone before. The kiss is so simple yet the most intense experience either of you have been a part of and you want more. Both of you are fighting for dominance, a somewhat rough dance of tongues and a little bit of teeth increasing in intensity the longer the kiss lasts. You moan into his mouth, feeling him begin to stand at attention underneath you, deepening the kiss by pulling him in even closer by his hair. The other hand is wrapped around his thigh, squeezing his leg and producing goosebumps across his entire body. He had to take a few moments to recover, slightly out of breath at the kiss that he was convinced had just changed his life. "Was that worth the 22 day wait?" You ask with a laugh, holding his head in your hands.

He nods, still incapable of speech, blowing out a breath of relief when the tightness in his pants continues to go down. You lazily make out throughout the entirety of whatever movie he puts on, more than making up for lost time.

You have to be at the facility early for morning workouts so Justin walks you out to your car, pulling you in for one more kiss. "Text me when you get home so I know you made it safe?"

"I will."

Justin lays in bed that night looking at your goodnight text, already planning the third date in his head because he needs to somehow make it better than tonight was. He doesn't have any ideas yet, he just knows he can't get enough of you.

One year later...

You were back in Eugene at your favorite park, ready to get back to your favorite scenery.

"Are you excited?" You ask Dylan, who barks excitedly as you hold onto his leash. That must mean yes.

Justin laughs beside you, grabbing onto your hand. "You ready?" He gives you a kiss on the forehead before the three of you begin your hike.

[oh-nostalgiaa]

thank you to @therebelcaptainnetwork for hosting secret santa again, which is the most wonderful time of the year (and the only time i muster enough energy to write, wah)!

my gift is for the lovely @toooldforthisbutstill, who asked for fluff, snow day/rest day, green/earth tones, or hope. i'm sorry i couldn't manage historical or fantasy, but i hope this small slice of life pleases nonetheless.

you can also find this fic at ao3! without further ado, here is:

you're gonna lead me home

The thing about peacetime is this:

There is no manual. There isn’t a set of instructions to follow in order to live in it to the best of one’s ability - especially if one (or two, in this case) are far more used to (and suited for, all things considered) doing whatever it takes to survive wartime.

You are simply taken from everything you’ve ever known and thrust into an entirely new situation with no guidelines and you are told ‘hey, good luck’.

While Cassian concedes that it’s not entirely true that he and Jyn had been airdropped into the unknown since they had been offered an apartment in glittering Coruscant and declined, but it still feels overwhelming at the best of times. This small, nondescript home on a small, temperate, mid-rim world is theirs to do with as they please.

At first, what they do is take stock of their new surroundings, taking careful note of what needs repairs or upgrades, what they can realistically immediately renovate and what may need to wait. More importantly, they examine every inch of their home and the land that surrounds it and they make intricate plans for how to keep themselves and this place safe.

You can take the soldiers out of the war, after all, but the war never really seems to end.

Cassian used to like to pride himself on how quickly he’s been able to adapt to any number of situations during his years as a spymaster, but another thing he’s learning is that the skills he’s gained from years of doing the hardest work imaginable don’t always translate to his new life.

And learning on the fly isn’t always quite so easy when there’s not the threat of death hanging over his head if he fails. Still, sometimes he thinks that death might be slightly easier to bear than disappointing Jyn.

Okay, so that’s a little dramatic, but not entirely inaccurate.

They have both spent most of their lives never staying anywhere long enough to put down roots. The relationships they have built have been superficial at best, because no matter how much it’s hurt to do it, they knew that disappearing was always what they were best at and what was necessary in order to survive another day. They have kept to the shadows and engaged in distasteful things they’d rather forget because there simply wasn’t any other option at the time. They looked over their shoulders constantly, because they never knew when a blade might be plunged into their back, metaphorically and literally speaking.

And that mindset is perhaps the hardest thing to rid themselves of.

Some days are easier than others. With no strict timetable to follow, new routines must be created, otherwise they both bristle at having so much free time and nothing to fill it.

Cassian finds that he’s rather adept at some of the repairs that need doing - the leak in the water filtration system comes to mind - and what he can’t figure out on his own, the holonet helps him learn. The same with cooking, actually. As it’s turned out, for as capable and dangerous as she can be in other areas, Jyn Erso is a complete disaster behind the stove and doesn’t quite possess the patience to want to learn to be otherwise. So Cassian has shooed her out of the cramped kitchen and taken over the cooking duties. He’s surprised by the natural affinity he seems to have for it and sometimes (when he’s feeling maudlin) wonders if in another life, that’s a path he would have gone down.

Some days, life doesn’t feel quite so difficult to navigate. Some days, he’s almost convinced that they’ll manage just fine.

And then there are the bad days.

There are days when one or the other or both of them revert to a state of readiness (and paranoia) that something’s going to happen if they are not hyperaware of every single thing in their immediate vicinity, every tiny noise more than enough to ramp emotions to the point of no return. And stars help them when they cross that point, because the blowup is not pretty. Neither is the aftermath.

If they’re lucky, the result is simply snapping at each other and then pointedly avoiding the other until their tempers settle. They would never put hands on each other, but when snapping turns to worse - well, they can wound each other terribly using just their words.

Icy little shards of insults that hit their target with startling accuracy every single time.

What’s worse is that neither are accustomed to apologizing, despite knowing when they’re in the wrong or when they’ve taken one step too far.

Sometimes, Cassian chooses to focus on repairs to keep himself busy, and if he feels like a particular argument requires more of a distance between he and Jyn, leaves a message letting her know he’s heading into town for supplies. Despite any simmering bad blood between them, he’s perceptive enough to know that not leaving that note would only just make everything all the worse. The sense of abandonment still runs deep in her veins, even though he has promised over and over again that he is with her come what may.

He leaves her to get her aggression out in her garden, or chopping wood, the type of hard physical labor that results in a good, deep sleep once the day is over with.

Repairs get done quicker than anticipated when there are a spate of bad days in a row, and soon, the barebones skeleton of their new home starts to come together in earnest. He only hopes that in time, they’ll both learn how to enjoy it without the fear of everything falling apart hanging over their heads, and that they’ll be able to build the life together that neither believes they truly deserve, deep down.

Sometimes, when the blood runs hot, not bad, they find themselves taking their frustrations out on each other physically - not sparring, although that is an option, but in a much more intimate and pleasurable way. All they need is the closest room or free surface and eventually, verbal jabs turn into gasps and moans, and when all is said and done, they may be disheveled and sweaty and breathless, but any annoyance felt toward each other has disappeared, replaced by satisfaction.

Things are still awkward afterward, as they are wont to be when a real apology hasn’t come, but Cassian’s learned that he and Jyn still find ways to offer one without words.

He’s learned to read her body language like a book and knows when she’s got a headache. He doesn’t say anything, but gently sets a steaming cup of tea down in front of her that he’s sure will alleviate her symptoms enough to allow her to participate in her usual activities. Thanks, holonet.

And Jyn's observation skills are unmatched. Even if Cassian never complains out loud, he will sometimes find exactly what he needs waiting for him, and he knows there’s only one person that could have done it. He tears his favorite pair of gloves, and later finds them stuffed in the pocket of a jacket, carefully darned back together and stronger than ever.

A tool needs replacing or a knife needs sharpening? He’ll find them exactly where he’s left them last, brand new and glittering or looking sharp enough as though it’s never been used countless times before.

I’m sorry may not come very naturally to them, but by stars, they are doing their best. As far as he’s concerned, that’s got to count for something.

Sometimes, on particularly clear nights, an apology can look like curling up together on the soft grassy hillside to silently stare up at the sky together, letting the peace and stillness wash over them as they watch shooting stars overhead. Those times, nothing needs to be said. It’s enough that Jyn’s resting her head over Cassian’s heart, letting the steady beating of his heart lull her into relaxation. It’s enough to be able to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head and be assured that even if he can’t see it, she’s smiling.

Sometimes, it’s enough to know that through it all, the good days and bad days, the lessons they’re still learning about how to live, the love always remains.

The rest will come in time.

[witherby]

Omg hi!!! I love your mer!reader series and I was wondering if you take request? If so could you do batfamily headcanons in squid game? (You don't have to of course.) I just finished season 2 and im really excited for season 3.

Love you and keep writing❤️

Hi there! I can sure try!!! I only ever saw season 1 and that was like two years ago but I'll do my best!

( This is operating off the assumption that they are not all in the game together, otherwise they'd all make it out very easily. )

BRUCE WAYNE:

He's killing it. Not literally — moral code and all — but he's crushing this competition. Bruce Wayne's picture is in the dictionary when you look up "Strategist." He got into the games voluntarily and he will get back out alive, no question. He's doing what he can to help other players survive, but he didn't go in as Batman so he doesn't have any of the gear to help as effectively as he could've. He's gotta play it creatively and in a way that doesn't get him or anybody else disqualified for cheating. It doesn't take long for him to find any loop holes in game rules that allow for multiple people to get out of it alive.

Bruce entered the games, not for money, but to find out who is behind them and bring them to justice, so that no other financially disparaged people have to consider putting their lives on the line in order to clear their debts and start fresh.

DICK GRAYSON:

I feel like he didn't end up here on purpose. I really think he either signed up for something and thought it was a silly lil competition, or that the organizers of the game kidnapped the wrong guy and Dick just went with it because he had nothing better to do. Either way, he's here, he's intrigued, and he's gonna save everybody he can while keeping your spirits up.

The jokes never stop. He never stops. Motormouth is what the other contestants end up calling him. Dick makes one of the masked guards snicker once before they get whisked away, and that does make him feel quite a bit bad. Dick's not immediately looking to destroy the system from the inside out (he'll come back and do that after the games are over). Instead, I think his goal would be to convince all the surviving players that they should vote to end the games and go back home. He'd try to be their voice of reason, to convince them that there are better ways to pick themselves up and rebuild their lives than risking death just to get some fast cash. And I think it works.

TIM DRAKE:

Tim is the opposite of Dick. He was not invited to play but he did deliberately steal another contestant's spot to get put into the game. Like Bruce, he's already out-logic'd most of the competitions to create the most amount of survivors, but he also came prepared. The deadliest competitions are suddenly sabotaged not to be as deadly, or not to work at all. Hidden weapons being offered to other players to start a riot and dwindle the numbers have all suddenly been replaced with soft foam bats and nerf guns.

He already knows who's behind the whole thing, he just needed an in so he could tear it all down quickly and cleanly. When Tim is done, he'll be missing for 48 hours at the absolute max, and leaving that place with justice done and a huge, smug smirk on his face. What, like it was hard?

DAMIAN WAYNE:

Damian is tough. I think he caught wind of the whole operation and went undercover as one of those masked game monitors/referees so he could also dismantle it from within, but with less computer hacking and sabotage, and more slashing. I think this method works best as early Damian, who has barely been introduced to his dad for like a week, before he just drops off the face of the planet for a couple days and comes back blood-soaked.

"Hello, father. That suspicious money scheme you had your eyes on? I solved the problem. What do you mean, what am I covered in? Would you believe me if I told you it was ketchup? By the way, your No Killing rule is stupid."

JASON TODD:

Post-resurrection, he's not doing anything with any subtlety. At least Damian took the time to work his way in with a disguise. Red Hood is finding out where the whole shindig is taking place, gathering a crew, kicking doors down, and setting it ablaze. He doesn't have time for games, and the longer he waits to act the more innocent people are dying. He shoots the giant money ball down and lets the players collect it freely, tells them how to leave, and peaces out without looking back. In and out, job done, on to the next one.

[antinous-of-ithaca-but-cuter]

~ FLASHING BACK ~

~ OPEN RP STARTER ~

TW FOR DEFINITE ALLUSIONS OF CHILD ABUSE, MURDER, GORE, THE WORKS LOL

Returning to the beach was always hard for him. No matter what he did or how he wound up there, he was always nervous, on edge, afraid. Today was no different.

He had come to the beach with a gift for an old friend lost too soon. It was a simple children's toy, a wooden sword this time, but despite how light the toy was, it carried a heavy burden with it.

Slowly, Antinous dragged his feet through the pebbled beach of Ithaca to the waterline. Each step felt harder than the last, that's when the first shock wave of a flash back hit Antinous harder than a Trojan warrior getting hit by a Greek soldier's chariot.

The sound of children's feet running on this same beach started echoing in his ears as his pulse started picking up.

He couldn't deal with this now, not today, not on his death day.

His eyes widened as he then found himself on the ground, his father's cruel grin seared into his memory as he held a ram head dagger above Antinous' face. "You want to run away?" His Father's voice echoed in his head. "I'll make sure you never come home again!!!" He then felt that same knife strike his throat.

A scream tore from his throat as he found himself standing again, the toy sword long since forgotten by his feet.

He backed up, tears subconsciously streaming down his face as he gripped his hair tightly. He couldn't tear those memories from his mind and it's been damn near six or seven years since it happened.

The next thing he knows is he's laying on his back again, his throat bleeding from the cut. His father was no longer on top of him and his friend was pulling him to his feet hurriedly. "Antinous come on!!! Hurry up!!! We have to go!!!" At that, both Antinous and his friend started running down the beach again, but it was too late. Antinous watched as his father grabbed his friend's arm tightly, lifted the dagger up and-

"LET HIM GO!!!!" Antinous screamed, sobs tearing from his throat as he fell to his knees of the beach. The rocky shore tore up his knees, leaving small cuts everywhere, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his chest and head at the moment.

All he could focus on was his best friend's face. His face was indifferent, devoid of any emotion whatsoever. His eyes were rolled back in his head, only a sliver of those beautiful silver and blue irises being visibly anymore. His friend had thick red blood running down his face sluggishly as his father's dagger as sticking out of the top of his head like a unicorn's horn.

"This is your fault Antinous!!! Look what you made me do to him!!!" His father yelled at him, holding his friends face inches away from his to prove a point.

Antinous could only let out another scream, holding his arms above his head as he sobbed. Trying to block out the memories seemed impossible at this point.

His father's hands were on his, forcing him to hold the same knife that had once been in his best friends head to cut his limbs off one by one. Each time Antinous heard a sickening crack from his friend's body he would sob louder, and every time Eupiethes heard Antinous sob he would smack him.

Eventually, his father made him dump the body in the ocean, walking away after Antinous was done doing so. He could only sit there and sob, grieving the loss of his friends with gut wrenching sobs, unaware of the fact he had just left his mother vulnerable for his father.

Antinous tried to curl further in on himself, sobbing so loudly to the point where his head and throat hurt as he laid down on the shores of Ithaca.

What do you do???

Tagging people who I think would have an interesting interaction with him; @king-of-the-fish @lethia-not-athena @not-so-far-from-battle @4mph1r1t3 @lightning-wielder ( @antinous-of-ithaca appearntly.... /t ) @jorgeofithaca @just-a-mer @l-l-l-l-legendary @1ceyanonhasarrived @apollo-ask-blog @cloak-of-ares @penelope-is-waiting @the-epic-amphinomus @the-warrior-of-the-mind I THINK I GOT EVERYONE NOW

Other people who weren't tagged may still reply fyi!!!

[thebirdandhersong]

Lol

[chicanomick]

🥹THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!!!!

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY🥰💖💖💖💖