#for once (but he’s totally over all that pinky promise absolutely) and fucks around with the lenses etc

[kutepik]

So Fucking Domestic

(mdni 18+) How many times a week is it normal for a couple to do it? Well... You and Caleb are definitely above average.

1.2k. small hc about domestic life and boyfriend!caleb with a little bit of spicy hihi

Since you and Caleb started seeing each other officially, it was only natural that you spent more time in Skyhaven and he in Linkon. You both had such dense and strenuous routines that at any free moment you tried to be together and make the most of it. On a particular day during the first month of your relationship, you arrived at the Colonel's apartment and found some step stools placed at strategic spots in the apartment. They were large and discreet, one near the kitchen counter, another by the bathroom sink, another by the bookcase in the study and many others. The answer when you asked Caleb about it was simple: when he became a colonel and got the right to an apartment, the Fleet asked for his height to make the furniture as proportional and functional as possible for him. Now that you were spending more time there, he made sure to have those steps made at the right height for you, so that you could be as comfortable as possible. In fact, you always wondered why the sink seemed so high when you brushed your teeth, and how uncomfortable it was to cut things on the counter when you tried to cook something. Caleb was always so efficient and attentive, and you loved that about him.

A week after steps stools were added to the apartment, you were used to them. One day, while you were at the kitchen sink, peeling some apples for a quick snack, Caleb came in from a night mission.

"Hey! Want an apple?" You smiled when he hugged you from behind, sinking his face into the nape of your neck easily because of the extra height the step stool gave you.

"What a miracle to find you in the kitchen," he kissed your neck and held your hips, gluing you to him. You brought a piece of apple to his mouth over your shoulder and forced him to eat it, to shut him up. "Hmpf" He tried to speak and you turned around, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

"How was it today?" You gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

"Boring. I just wanted to come home to you." He rubbed his cheek against yours, sighing. "Buuuut, I had time to think of something"

"Hm?" You hummed with your eyes closed, feeling the warmth of his face against yours.

"I was wondering if... You'd let me put my cock inside you without me having to ask or with any ceremony." He said in a careful voice. "Of course, if you don't want to at the moment, just tell me and I'll completely stop. I totally understand if you find it weird and don't want to do this and I pinky promise we never have to talk about it again and I'll never bring it up ev-“

"I want it!” you said and threw your head to one side. His eyes widened in surprise. "Wherever you want. No matter when you want. I trust you." You kissed one of his eyes. "And I love the idea of you fucking me without ceremony and at any time."

"God, you're going to drive me absolutely crazy. Thank you." He squeezed you in a tight hug.

Once the two of you had agreed on this, you initially thought you'd be having sex the way you always did, hard, deep, kinky, full of fluids, scratches and bites, or doing intense quickies several times a day. But no, it was simple and intimate, simply delicious. Caleb just wanted to be with you and inside you all the time.

Little by little, you realized how the stool he had ordered served more than one purpose. Sometimes you'd be doing your makeup for work, standing in front of the bathroom sink, and Caleb would simply approach you, asking about your plans for the day. As the ordinary words and dialog went on between the two of you, he would gently pull up your shirt, pull down your panties and put his cock inside you. It was addictive. The fucking step stool not only gave you the perfect height for the furniture in the house, but also to leave your ass at the right height for Caleb to find himself in you without having to hold you down, sit or lie down. It was usually like this: his cock nestling into you with slow, intimate strokes, while you both carried on chatting about anything, just spending time together.

By then, you made a habit of walking around the house in your (his) large shirt and no panties, knowing that Caleb liked to be with you, inside you, whenever he could. Of course, you still had brutal sex like two animals frequently, but it seemed that Caleb's obsession and need for you - and you for him - was able to bring about the most painfully intimate, simple and tender sex of your lives. It was just so good to trust so deeply in someone and to want someone so badly that no words or timing were needed. At one moment it was a "Can I stay here with you, baby?" and the next you were reading your book, bent over the counter, while Caleb slid his cock up and down between your folds, stroking himself against your clit, praising you and your pretty pussy. He did it not only because he wanted it, but because he could.

Sometimes he wouldn't even come, or even move. If you were watching a movie, he would surely be inside you, both of you cuddled up, relaxing after an exhausting day, cockwarming.

In fact, you liked it so much that when he didn't take the initiative, you went after him. There were times when he was reading reports, sitting on the living room sofa or in the office armchair, and you would silently approach him, fiddling with your cell phone, sit on his thighs, and soon his cock was hard and hot under his pants. Within moments, you were slowly riding his throbbing cock, while he used his thumb to caress your clit, slowly, just like the rise and fall of your hips. If you got tired, you didn't have to get up. You just kept yourself there, hugging Caleb, with his hard cock throbbing inside you, filling you up completely.

One day, talking to Tara and Simone at the pub in Linkon, the topic came up: "How many times a week is it normal for a couple to have sex?", and the girls debated curiously.

"I don't know, three or two times a week? It depends on their schedule." Simone said, sipping her drink.

"Some couples do it every day! Can you imagine? Having sex every day?" Tara said, her eyes widening. " What about you and your boyfriend? How often do you do it?" She asked, curious.

And that made you wonder. There was the mind-blowing sex, the longing sex, the dirty sex, the rough sex, the slow sex, the sex when you were reading, the sex when he was reading, the sex when you were on your cell phones, the sex when talking about anything, the sex on the kitchen counter, the sex on the bathroom sink, the bath time sex, the movie time sex, the bed time sex, the sleep time sex, the wake up time sex, the boredom time sex, the play time sex… And all you could do was blink, trying to calculate how many times a week Caleb and you had sex and it simply wasn't possible to count.

You laughed, sipped your drink and sighed.

"I don't know, I don't count." And it wasn't a lie.

[stellewriites]

thank you for the tag @mikichko!! this was so fun 🫶

this is what i think jason todd/red hood’s would look like - you can’t convince me that man wouldn’t want a bookstagram account

i’m tagging - @gemmahale @syoddeye @moondirti and anyone else that wants to do it!

instagram dump w your fav <3 (any random photos, no aesthetic bounds) [inspired by zen's moodboard for saehue ���😇 @saeyaki]

'toru and me 💞💞

no pressure tagging 🤗🤗🤗:

@avatarofstars, @aikatoru, @sukunasweetheart, @sukunasteeth, @javarium

@thefallofruins, @andysdrafts, @afortoru, @moonneiy, @strawberrystepmom

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

[spectoris]

against the odds

summary: miscommunications suck, yet it's somehow worse when people over communicate

pairing: adrian chase x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, established relationship

contains: swearing, 70% arguing 30% make up, one purposeful run-on sentence, soft!adrian

word count: 1k

a/n: this is my third time posting this pls don’t let it flop

What started as visiting Adrian at work (not Fennel Fields, but the other job) leads to the two of you at odds at the back of the building. Still in his suit, but maskless, Adrian paces in circles in his spot, never once stepping closer than a yard from you. An invisible barrier stands between you, brought on by the heated words you’ve shared in the past twenty minutes.

This isn’t the best place to be arguing. With how you’re both flailing your arms and screaming at the top of your lungs (and the colorful fabric on Adrian’s suit), you’re a sitting duck. Yet, even that is the least of your and the team’s concerns, who hear every word from the office. Your blazing eyes and raised voice, louder than it ever has been in your life, are enough to scare whichever Butterfly is watching you now—or, at the very least, confuse them.

Both you and Adrian are seeing red. One of the qualities that connects you is your determination, and stubbornness, which works against your favor now. Neither of you can step down, nor do you think you can after digging yourself so far into this hole. At this point, Adrian, who’s still loopy from the mission of the day, is spewing nonsense to keep himself afloat. But the one thing he absolutely cannot handle, the thing that leaves him defenseless, is your sudden silence. Arms crossed over your chest, brows pinched, but emptiness in your eyes. He should know better than to fall into this trap, but Adrian has to fill in the tense void with something, hoping you’ll understand part of what he’s saying.

“Look, this is our super secret—like top secret CIA level shit—headquarters and I can’t have civilians waltzing in here or else the Butterflies will totally figure us out and we cannot have that happening because it ruins everything we worked for here which is bad on all of us especially me since I promised I wouldn’t fuck things up and-”

Adrian sucks in a deep breath. “Idon’twantyouhere!” It comes out fast, but strained. His eyes are squeezed shut, like a child who has just admitted their worst secret. In a way, it is. For weeks Adrian had been throwing excuse after excuse about his whereabouts despite you knowing about his double life. You swore on your life to keep it a secret—even if the police came and threatened to cut your pinky toe off—because you knew how much it meant to Adrian. All he wanted to do was make a difference. And you hoped in turn of hiding this, he’d spare you the worry about what was to come next, but even that was too much. Or, he didn’t trust you enough. He didn’t trust the person he ate, slept, and fucking lived with.

Adrian finally goes quiet. He peers through the large frames of his glasses, trying to assess your flat expression. It gives him no hint as to your thoughts. Even so, he can tell he’s hit a nerve, and concern begins to carve itself into his features.

“You…You don’t want me here,” you say in a softer tone, a heavy contrast to your screaming earlier. It’s a statement. In those drawn out seconds, you’ve processed what Adrian has said and taken it as a truth. There’s no question to it, not that you feel there is. He said it, plain and simple, and his ramble only supports it.

“Does that mean you don’t want me at home, either? In fact, you don’t want me around you too, do you? I bet it compromises your identity to have me around. Isn’t that right, Adrian?”

He opens his mouth, but no words come out.

“Were you trying to keep me as another one of your secrets? In the name of ‘justice’ or whatever bullshit you’re gonna throw at me next?”

Adrian utters nothing. How can he when all he’s said has been the wrong thing? Another wrong word, a few misspoken syllables, and it falls apart. Though, the string he’s been holding onto, that slimmer of hope that maybe you’ll read his mind and see what he truly means, is slipping with each step you take away from him. But not everyone is a superhero; not everyone is going to understand what he needs without spoken words.

“You’re the last thing I want to lose.” In a moment of panic, his final secret comes to light. “I don’t want to lose you at all. Do you know how much that’d fucking kill me?”

You turn back around and take slow steps in his direction. “Adrian…”

“I keep secrets because I’m afraid. Isn’t that funny? Vigilante, the—well, vigilante—gets scared. Really scared.” He laughs solemnly. “I really, really like you. Fuck, I’m in love with you. I can’t imagine what I’d do without you.”

Somewhere in the midst of his words, Adrian’s taken your hands in his. You’re close enough to see yourself in his glasses and the tiny teardrops sparkling in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m sorry I was such a dick. I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark.”

With your anger quelled, you can look at Adrian clearly and see truly how much he means it all. There’s a pang in your chest when the desperation becomes evident on his face, deep yearning he’s forced himself to keep, for good reason. You realize how much he’s tortured himself to keep you safe, to stay quiet in the face of his colleagues about the best thing he’s ever had, which is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

You lean your forehead on his, laughing softly when your nose bumps into his glasses.

“You mean a lot to me, too, Adrian. And, fuck, I love you, too. I’ve been waiting to hear those words, you know?”

His entire being lights up with joy. “Really? You mean that?”

You nod. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. That was a dick move, too.”

“Then we can be dickheads together.”

You both can’t help the fit of giggles that arise. Adrian’s nudging your nose with his, and you fulfill his silent plea with a sweet, long kiss to his lips. Somewhere in the distance, there’s probably a chorus of awws from the office as they watch the scene unfold. With the broken, graffiti-covered brick walls encasing you, and the ominous woods looming from behind, it’s far from being out of a fairytale (not to forget you’re practically putting on a show). But for now, you can push that aside, and keep falling in love with your hero.

[technowoah]

could you do 21 and 23 from the prompt list with george x gn! or fem!reader?

btw i adore your writing!! i love all your ideas and your imagines are so original ahhh i love them sm

So Cliché [3:41 am]

TYSM! OMG THAT MEANS A LOT TO ME🤚🏾😭

Also sorry this came out so late

I am guessing the prompts are from the fluff list, but if this isn't what you wanted I'll do it from the angst list!

21) "Are you up? Do you need me to stay up?"

23) "Pinki promise kiss"

⚠︎ swearing, fluffy stuff, i didn't proofread 😪

Your eyes adjusted to the dark bedroom you were in. The door was closed and the curtains were slightly opened letting in the slightest slither of light inside. The sun hasn't rose yet and your body felt heavy. You turned around under the warm covers of your bed and looked at the clock beside your bed that shined 3:41 am.

You groaned as you rotated around in bed until you found a comfortable way to lay down. Time seemed to be going slower when you woke up, the need to sleep flooded your mind but you just couldn't relax. Turning around again you faced your closed door that led to the hallway. The door always had to be at least cracked and not completely closed, but your roomate was making too much noise at an ungodly hour.

Living alone wasn't good for you at all, you didn't feel comfortable living alone. It was so quiet all the time and no one was around to entertain you or comfort you when things went bump in the night until your friend George suggested that you moved in with him. You always complained that you needed a roommate so he proposed the idea that you two moved in together to make you feel safe.

A few days from that conversation you packed your things and moved in with George. Slowly but surely you moved all of your things into George's place and he was always there to help. George had two bedrooms in his house and they were right next to eachother. You both woke up around the same time and went to bed at totally different times.

George and you always made breakfast together, sat around the house thinking of things to do and just end up sitting on the couch watching anything interesting he finds, doing chores and going out quickly to then inevitably end up back to the couch to do absolutely nothing. George always ended up sleeping while you two had this time together because he stayed up so late you dont know how he could sleep like a baby like that all the time. He ended up either laying on the armrest of the couch or on your shoulder. You always thought that was uncomfortable for him, but he always ended up there. The last couple times he ended up laying on your thighs which flustered you the first time, and the second, basically anytime he goes to lay on your lap you tense up.

You weren't afraid of physical touch, but this was new to you, you've grown accustomed to George and you think you a crush evolved from nothing. You two have been really close and it all started with a stupid Minecraft server. Ever since you moved in you two have grown closer than ever and your complicated feelings if you would want George as a boyfriend or not flooded your mind as we speak.

[4:01]

You still couldn't sleep and it was becoming a problem. You tossed and turned until you felt comfortable and began to count sheep, but you already got to 40 and didn't feel sleepy at all. Encasing yourself underneath your covers didn't help, it only made you hot. You were wide awake at this point. You had sat up and got out of your bed slipping on some fluffy socks and quitely opened the door and shuffled your way to the living room. You tried to stay quiet trying to keep George asleep as you turned on the TV.

Turning down the volume you sat there for a while underneath a blanket you and George had on the couch for times like this. You had a throw pillow underneath your head while you layed horizontal, across the couch. Two shows later and your eyes began to droop, it was a sense of accomplishment because you were finally sleeping so you stayed there still so you continue to lull yourself to sleep.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" George asked with tired eyes and gravelly voice. "Are you up? Do you need me to stay up?"

"Fuck you George. I was about to go to sleep. I kinda want you up with me." You complained as you pulled the blanket over your head with your eyes still closed.

"C'mon silly get in your bed. Were you here all night?" George said while leaning against a wall, clearly still tired.

"No. I couldn't sleep. Why are you here?" You asked, but your words mumbled together.

"I heard the TV." George pointed at the TV that was illuminating objects in the dark.

You hummed and he did as well. "Are you okay bub?"

You had a small smile on your face, you loved the small petnames he gave you. You had a small feeling that he didn't mean it in the romantic way you wanted it to be.

"I woke up and cant sleep now. I was almost asleep, but you came in so.." You said still drowsy from staying in the state of in-between being awake and sleep.

"Im sorry." George said with his head against the wall, eyes closed. "Mm sorry I'm tired." George wiped his face.

"Could you sleep with me?"

"What?" George asked laughing slightly.

"No not that, just sleep in the same bed." You said. Your brain was just working on his own. You wouldn't have said this if you were awake, but you were desperate and needed sleep. Also you were touch starved and your crush on George was becoming more apparent each day, but that wasnt the point now.

"Yeah I'll do that." George said while pushing himself off of the wall.

"What?" You said thinking he would reject the offer.

"You sound like me. Come on." George said making his way over to you and reaching his arms out. You sat up looking at him with half open eyes and ended up grabbing both of his hands to pull yourself up.

Once both of you were on your feet you both lazily made your way to your bedroom. You mad yourself comfortable under the covers while George sat ontop, restricting the cover's movements.

"You're ontop of the blankets, it's weird." You mumbled.

"Sorry, sorry. Um, what would you want me to do?" George asked as he got off of the bed and stood there awaiting for an answer.

Your back was facing towards him when you answered. "Come on under the covers, I dont bite." You faced towards him when you said that.

He smiled a bit and then got under the covers with you, he layed on his back facing the ceiling and his hands on his stomach. He was uncomfortable.

You turnedon your side facing George. "Are you uncomfortable? If you want you can leav-"

"No! No. Im just- Ive never done this before you know. I've never comforted anyone like this." George quickly said.

"Like cuddled anyone?"

"Like cuddle, yeah."

A silence fell upon you two until George laid on his side facing you. His face was close to yours and you tried not to freak out right in front of him. He reached his hand across your body and started to rub your back. You shuffled your body a little so that your heads weren't at the same level, you were level with his chest and you got closer leaning your forehead against his chest. You both got more comfortable and got closer in touch, he soothingly rubbed your back trying to lull you to sleep.

It was a while that you both layed like this, basking in eachothers comfort

"I wish I could sing like Wilbur. That would make this moment better." George whispered against your hair.

"You being here makes this moment already great though." You whispered as well hoping he could hear you.

"Really?"

"Really. I mean it. I love this." You pulled him close.

"I love 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ."

"I love you too."

You smiled with your eyes closed. "Promise you love me?"

"Pinki promise I love you." George lazily locked both of your little fingers together.

"Pinki promise kiss." You puckered your lips hoping he would get the hint.

You heard George chuckle and he softly pecked you lips, it was like he was testing the waters. You opened your eyes and he had a small tired smile on his face, the two of you ended up giggling like little kids and then going back into the calming state you both were in.

Thank God for you both being in that state of tiredness. You just hoped that you both remembered what happend at [4:32 am] when you both wake up.

EXTRA:

You were alone in the kitchen this morning making pancakes. George hasnt met up with you yet and you questioned why. Yes you remembered last night and you're glad that you finally had the courage to say that you loved him, but it wasn't how you pictured it happening.

You flipped your pancake as George came put from around the corner looking fresher and more awake than last night. He smiled at you and made his way over to you. He closely stood by you and reached over your head to grab a glass from above. He only stepped that closely to you to grab a glass.

You begun to think that he forgot about last night's kiss. He had filled his glass with ice and then with water he stood over by the refrigerator for a while until he walked over to you.

You had just finished the second pancake of the day and faced George who was stood beside you waiting for your attention. He smiled at you and slowly leaned down and gave you a kiss on your lips. It was slow and longing, like he wanted to do this for quite a while. One of his hands found the side of your face and the other one pulled you closer by your waist. He then pulled away having a big smile on his face, you matched his smile clearly glad that he did that and remember.

"This is so cliché you know that right?" You laughed.

George rolled his eyes playfully. "Exactly, I feel like I've read this somewhere before."

"Like on Wattpad?" You jokingly asked.

"Yeah I read a bunch of DreamNotFound fanfiction on there." George said as he swayed you back and forth along with him.

"Hey~!"

"I'm just kidding! And I pinki promised didnt I?" George rose his eyebrows.

"You did! You did!" You smiled at him and he matched your smile again.

"I love you." George said.

"I love you too." You replied.

"I could get used to this!"

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

i had a craving for some warm apple cider and it reminded me of etrry. he would fuck that shit up omg omg christian girl fall is totally alienrry he would love going to the apple orchards and shit

The first time he tries a pumpkin spice latte, his feedback makes Y/N’s stomach flutter with endearment.

Harry smack his lips as he savors the spices and cozy notes in the drink, furrowing his brows in thought as he picks through all of the different emotions the taste produces. After a moment, his entire body relaxes, and a homey smile makes its way across his dimpled cheeks. “It tastes the way a warm hug feels.”

Y/N’s lips twitch as she sips from her own drink, letting his interpretation sink in. He’s recently taken to relating flavors to feelings and experiences, and the analogies he conjures up always amuse her to no end. “That was pretty poetic of you.”

Harry simpers over the brim of the coffee cup, hugging it with both hands as indulges another gulp. “Thank you, I think.”

She can’t help but notice how big his hands are— how they easily dwarf the paper mug, and how pretty his nails look covered in sage green polish (she’d painted them that color for the sake of irony, and he’d thought the joke was hilarious). The more she dwells on every detail of his hands— the veins that chisel over the back as he tightens his hold, or the length of his nimble fingers, or the small alien hieroglyphic tattoo along the area between his index finger and thumb— the more her thoughts derail towards the graphic end of the spectrum. Specifically, how he’d had those same hands all over her body the night prior.

How they had been tangled in her hair as they stumbled towards her room blindly, too lost in the sensation of each other’s lips to give anything else much attention. How his hands had felt as they hurriedly coasted down her chest and along the bottom of her sweatshirt, pulling it off in one swift motion so he could taste every inch of her skin, his tongue leaving a sweltering heat along her cleavage. How they had gripped her knees and spread them open as he situated himself onto his stomach on the mattress, a faint white cast sheathing his irises as he’d seen the way she was already dripping in anticipation. How his palms had held her down to the bed as he’d bobbed his head between her thighs, his tongue lapping at her sloppily as he’d moaned into her clit, the sound wet and guttural as his back muscles visibly tightened while she’d tugged at his curls and scratched at his scalp. How one hand had grasped her hip desperately as the other wrapped around her throat, its first two fingers weighing on her tongue as she’d sucked on them feverishly, wisps of his name escaping her throat as he’d pounded raw pleasure into the pit of her tummy. How he’d whimpered and gasped into her ear as his nails dug memories into the skin of her waist, and how she’d caught a glimpse of his fingerprints this morning in the mirror, dusted across her flesh in the form of bruises.

Harry’s voice yanks the girl out of her head. “What are you drinking?”

Y/N isn’t really one to crave coffee during the afternoon, so she’d picked up a bottle of rosé on the way home from grocery shopping, right before going to the drive-through at the nearest Starbucks to get him his beverage. He’d seen a commercial for it on TV the other day, and had expressed his interest for it during breakfast as she’d shoveled scrambled eggs onto a plate while he cut up a green apple across the kitchen island, popping a slice into his mouth while neatly organizing the others along his circular platter. And how could she say no to him, especially when he’d been standing there with such a hopeful look in those olive green puppy eyes, his cheeks puffed out with fruit and her teeth marked all over his neck and chest.

“It’s, uhm—” She clears her throat roughly, expelling the image of Harry’s toned stomach and thick happy trail from her brain. She snaps her gaze up to meet his, and the blissfully unaware innocence behind his tone and over his features makes blood rush to her cheeks. “It’s rosé.”

Harry sets down his cup carefully on her coffee table, shifting further back onto the couch and slouching into the cushions, his legs spreading open casually as he settles in. “That’s a type of alcohol, correct?”

Y/N glances down at his thighs momentarily, where his mesh shorts are riding up dangerously high. “Yep.”

If he notices, he doesn’t to show it, seen in how his accent maintains the same nonchalant curiosity as before. He throws an arm around her shoulders easily, scooting his body closer to her own across the sofa. He’s gotten way touchier since they started sleeping together, and she can’t say she doesn’t like it. She likes it more than she should, probably.

“The same liquid in those spiked ciders you got me last time? The sour one that incapacitates you?”

Y/N scoffs lightly at his accurate description, willingly leaning into his torso and folding her legs up under herself as she props her wine glass on her knee. “Mmhm. But that only happened because you drank the entire pack like a moron, remember?”

Harry rolls his eyes at her chastising tone and flat expression. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe you should have asked me before randomly drinking things from that shelf in the fridge.”

“You were in the shower.”

“You could have waited.”

“I was thirsty.”

“There’s a water filter at the sink.”

“I wanted juice.”

“There was grape juice beside the milk.”

“I wanted apple and the bottles had pictures of them on the label. My apologies for using my practical thinking skills and measures of deduction.”

Y/N sighs in good-natured exasperation, shoving him with her shoulder as revenge for his snarky comebacks. “Well, look where your practical thinking skills and measures of deduction got you— bent over the toilet bowl with puke shooting out of your nostrils. Now you know that anything with the word, ‘alcohol’ on it needs to be taken in moderation. Right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good.” The young woman takes a sip from her glass, savoring it patiently as the sweet and tangy flavor filters through her taste buds. “Lesson learned, then.”

“Unfortunately.” The alien deadpans, pinching along the underside of her underarm just to feel her squirm and squeak. He smiles childishly at her reaction, giggling as she curses at him under her breath.

“You almost made me spill my drink.” She grumbles, getting comfortable once more against his warm body. “And this is the good stuff, too. I’d break the bottle over your head.”

“A bit rash, I think.” Harry snorts sarcastically, eyeing the pink moscato for a moment as it swishes inside her chilled cup, her fingers leaving smudges in the condensation. He then lilts his gaze back towards her own, his tone soft and full of wonder. “Can I try?”

“Promise not to throw up all over my floor again?” The girl quips tauntingly, jutting her chin towards her rug symbolically.

Harry exhales in surrendered embarrassment, lifting his hand and hooking their pinkies together. “Pinky swear.”

Y/N nods her head in the agreement, fending off a fond grin as she lifts the glass to his plush, rosy lips. “Go ahead, then, Area 51.”

The alien snorts softly at the nickname, well aware of its origins now that he’s learned more about Earth’s relationship with extraterrestrial components. Those documentaries on the Discovery Channel are quite educational.

Harry sifts his mouth over the rim of the glass, making eye contact with Y/N to let her know he’s ready for her to pour the drink in. She tilts the wine, watching it funnel past his lips to gauge how much is an adequate amount. She pulls back, observing as he nurses the liquid pensively, his brows creasing like before as he distinguishes all the different flavors present. He smacks his lips again, blinking slowly as he forms his opinion, licking at a drop that had escaped the corner of his mouth.

“So?” Y/N inquires, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “What’s it taste like?”

Harry cranes his sight over to her, the studious expression on his face melting into one of slight smugness, as if what he’s about to say is something amusing. The left edge of his mouth jolts upwards, a sly smirk carving its way across his face as he presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek almost arrogantly, his eyes raking down her body in an objectifying once-over. His descent stops at her clasped thighs, which he focuses on for a few seconds longer than she deems acceptable, and then his gaze travels back up to lock with her own. There’s now a different type of darkness to the jade swirling around his pupils, electrified by something he has yet to express to her fully, but seems excited to do so.

The young man leans forward, and Y/N almost falls back at the sudden closeness of their proximity. He ghosts his lips over the curve of her jaw and across the slope of her cheekbone, stopping at the shell of her ear as if he wants to share a secret. He drags his pillowy lips over the area with every intention to rile her up, his skin cool and damp from the beverage, but unbelievably warm beneath the initial shock of that caveat. His breath carries the same juxtaposing sensations— it’s cold on impact, but heats up the farther it travels across the side of her face and down to the pulse in her neck. His words are low and heavy, but sultry and smooth like the wine they’d shared; a seductive whisper that intoxicates her in a fiery manner that no amount of alcohol ever could.

“It tastes like sex. It tastes the way you do between your thighs, and it feels the way you feel when I’m buried between your legs. And if I close my eyes and savor it, I can taste you whining my name into my mouth, and I can taste you begging for it on my tongue.”

[elysianslove]

hi eli bby !! its me vio again shhshf

i loved ur vball player crush hcs w miya twins && suna and can i have that too w sakusa, semi && shirabu ? MY UNDERRATED BOYS CRIES SM <//3 thank u sm <33

hiiiii my love!!! tysm for requesting these boys i love them so much. i hope you like this lysm <3

sakusa kiyoomi 

considering what i’ve seen in the anime, and some manga panels, i really don’t think omi’s a peoples person. so even in school, i doubt he was very involved with other students, and probably kept to himself 

he’s also hyper-aware of his surroundings constantly, including the people around him, so the fact that he noticed you wasn’t a shock

it’s that he noticed you, and then he couldn’t stop thinking about you

probably had some dream about you that same night that cursed him with a crush on you yk the dreams i’m talking about right? 

he still continues to keep to himself, and whenever he spots you from his peripheral vision he just dashes out of there. he realizes that forcing himself to act normally around you might actually improve his situation and help him get over whatever this stupid crush was but he was not taking any chances

he also knew nothing about you, just your last name! 

so anyways both the boys and girls vbc’s are heading the same school, so they got one bus for the both of you and combined them. 

because his general dislike for crowds, omi usually sits out in the front, especially because the door to the bus is right next to him. idk he just seems like the kind to map out an escape plan for every room/vehicle he enters i don’t have a reason why i think so

the game was happening on a weekend, really early, like way too early, so it wasn’t a surprise that you were tired. it’s an unspoken rule that those who sit in the back make a lotta noise and all that, so you opted for the front seats instead to at least try and rest a bit before the game

you don’t sit directly next to him, but there’s only an aisle separating the two of you

because, yk, manners, you give him a small smile before saying, “good morning!” and settling in your seat, your bag between your legs

omi on god freezes up lmfao

he doesn’t mean to sound so rude but it just comes out that way! he says something along the lines of “what are you doing here?” and immediately regrets it after it leaves his lips. he visibly cringes 

but instead of being thrown off, you just laugh, and sakusa curses everything behind his mask because holy shit were you gorgeous and wow was his stomach just somersaulting 

not a nice feeling 

you explain to him briefly that you’re on the vbc and you were heading to play the girls of the same school he was gonna play against and all that, and he just hums and nods and tries to ignore the thump thump thump of his heart 

you don’t really interact during the bus ride going to, it’s coming back that you do 

you tell him that you managed to glimpse the last bit of his game, where he was landing a spike, and you complimented his skills and pointed out his freakish wrist move 

he noted that he didn’t get to see you play and your brain went opportunity! 

you go “well maybe you should come to one of my dates” like the absolute smooth talker you are 

omi just hums and goes “i’ll see” 

absolutely is there lol

the development into a relationship is more implicit than explicit. the two of you don’t announce to the world, but honestly, neither do you do it to yourselves. like you’d been on a coffee date with him at some point and your parent or sibling texted something you found funny and mentioned him as your boyfriend and you showed it to him and he was like

hm

am i your boyfriend 

like idk am i your girlfriend 

he said yeah obviously 

i love this boy so fucking much pleaseeeee

but yes just as your development into a couple is subtle, so is your overall relationship. and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way

semi eita

omg pretty setter semi eeee

so yk how shiratorizawa students live in dorms? there’s no way semi hasn’t noticed you before, even if it’s separate dorms for different genders. like you two probably come across each other every once in a while at a vending machine or something, and exchange a word or two 

it’s not until when semi starts to look forward to seeing you, or when he gets disappointed every time you don’t make an appearance, that he realizes, you know, he’s kinda developed a liking to you

he doesn’t really know much about you, aside your name and your favorite go-to snack from the vending machine, so he’s left a little frustrated at the lack of interactions you two have. like he’s just living off that small laugh of acknowledgment and the hi, hope you sleep well! you know? like he wants more from you. he wants to get to know you

he can’t seem to ever see you in school either, because the stars hate him that much and don’t wanna align for the two of you, not even a little to share one class with him. just one

it’s just his luck, though, when a busy weekend for all the sports teams comes along, and each sport is sectioned off to a bus. volleyball boys and girls in one bus, swimming boys and girls in one bus, etc. 

he really doesn’t expect it when you get on the bus, because what the fuck you play volleyball??? and then he really doesn’t expect it when you recognize him, gasp and grin, and wave at him, and go over to sit by him

his brain’s short-circuiting 

you immediately start conversation as you’re setting your bag down like “i didn’t know you played volleyball!”

and he laughs and nods like “i didn’t know you did either” 

it’s honestly a really cute and satisfying moment like okay maybe the stars were just taking their time aligning thank you universe 

the two of you click immediately. like annoyingly so. you have so much in common, and you spend the entire ride chatting excitedly about everything and semi’s wishing he’d just asked you to hang out way sooner, like as early as the first time you’d met at that vending machine 

the girls’ games finish a lot later than the boys, so he comes and watches you play, and is enamored by you, completely. in his head he’s just ‘this girl just keeps growing more perfect.’

he walks back with you to the bus, and sits next to you as well. when you arrive back at the school, you don’t immediately go to your dorms, and he suggests grabbing a refreshing drink from somewhere nearby

it’s incredible how you still have so much to talk about 

the time passes really quick with him

it’s while you’re having that drink with him, probably iced tea or boba or something, he tells you about his small passion for music, and you make him promise to play you something at some point. he loops his pinky with yours :)

he also confides in you about having been replaced on his last year, and how he tries not to let it affect him but he really can’t help him. from then on, after each of your practices, you invite him in your gym, and have him set to you, just so you both have an excuse to spend time with each other, and so that he gets to practice and play the way he really wants to, without any restrictions placed upon him and no one waiting to take his place

i think as a couple you’d probably really bring out the best in each other, and you’re constantly always, always there for each other. really, really reliant and supportive as partners, you know? 

you go to all his games, and whenever he’s pitched in, you scream his name the loudest and cheer him on so much. one look at your face, and he’s reminded of who he is and why he does what he does, and he’s immediately grounded aw <3

shirabu kenjirō

omg shirabu with a crush 🥺🤲🏼 i love it when characters seem so cold and standoffish but as soon as they’re around the people they care about they do a 180. that’s shirabu 100%

he really, really, really liked you. like it was embarrassing at this point. he totally denied it every time anyone even thought it, and he really tried his hardest not to be obvious around you

i like to think he saw you around school and that’s how it developed a little, but maybe you were friends with some of the vbc boys because of your shared interest in the sport, and you come to play with them sometimes after practice, he’d just never be there

but one time you walked in and he was like guess im not leaving 

he was a little starstruck at the fact that you played volleyball. he honestly wouldn’t care, but it sorta felt nice that there really was something that you two had in common

and you were good. at everything. you received semi and ushijima’s serves, and goshiki’s and ōhira’s spikes, perfectly, and reacted to tendō’s blocks so well, and hit his tosses just right. you were incredible. maybe your skills were magnified from his specific lens, but there really was no denying you were skilled 

damn this. all this. 

especially any time you’d spike his toss and give him a really wide smile and say, “nice toss!” like seriously the way his heart’s spasming cannot be healthy what the fuck 

and then he finds out the girls are sharing a bus with them, and then you walk in

and then you walk towards him

obviously, outwardly he looks unimpressed and unfazed but trust, his palms are sweaty as fuck 

before the bus moves, you stand by his seat and make small talk with him about volleyball, before you realize the bus is moving and you have to sit down, but you’re still in the middle of a conversation with him, so you just sit next to him and continue like nothing happened

he just. allows it. 

the school you’d been going to had a really big court where both the girls and boys were playing in the same gymnasium on opposite sides of the court, so when you arrived and changed and all, you were like “wanna warm up together” couple goals <3

pls semi, taichi and tendō would probably tease the fuck out of him lmfao. he’d just glare at them but he has such a big blush on his cheeks as he stretches and warms up with you that the glare is completely ineffective 

you go to sit next to him on the bus ride home, but the day’s exhaustion catches up to you, plus the bus’s movements are lulling you, so you end up falling asleep on his shoulder, and when shirabu first notices that you’d actually fallen asleep, he looks down at you with such a dreamy and awestruck face. goshiki took a picture and likes to torment him with it. shirabu has it as his lockscreen now lol 

as your boyfriend, he’s the exact same. very standoffish to everyone outwardly but to you? it’s a different story. 

nonetheless it’s not very obvious. so yes, he will have a scowl on his face as he tells you off, but his lips are slightly upturned and there’s a little pink shade on his cheeks that show just how endearing he thinks you are 

really loves to practice with you because he loves seeing you in your zone like that. also you look hot

anyways yes he’s such a cutie i will not take criticism 

[burnedbyshoto]

peeping tom(mina)

— Mina finds a peephole in her room that looks directly into your room and discovers a sight that slightly rocks her entire life.

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pairing: ashido mina x fem!reader

warning: 18+, smut, voyeur!mina, mutual masturbation, vibrator, dildos, finger fucking, cursing, peephole, lesbianism

word count: 2,815

a/n: sorry its a day late!!!! have some pervy roommate mina rn and some abo shiggy in about a few hours!!!!

kinktober day 11 main kink: voyeurism | kinktober masterlist

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Mina has a dirty secret.

And just thinking about it makes her shy, and she has never been a shy girl.

Since she could fully understand what sex was, she had always been someone who was incredibly sex-positive. Mina was also a full-body worshiper, someone who found everyone’s bodies hot and attractive. It never really surprised anyone when they found this out. She was always the type to point out how that person’s ass looked hot in jeans, or how that shirt made that person’s boobs look full, soft, and luscious. She held back at absolutely nothing, making sure to let everyone know her opinion on how and why she currently found them attractive. 

So the ones she would eventually bring to bed were also unsurprised by the enthusiasm she held when she kissed down their bodies, fingers massaging every piece of skin and muscle as she moaned praises. To Mina, bodies were a temple, and when she was visiting, she was going to make sure you knew how fascinating she thought it to be.

Even now, at twenty-two, she never hated pointing out what she thought to be positive about people’s bodies. It was almost second nature.

“Can you please tell me why your legs look hot as fuck in those sweats?!” Mina practically screamed, dramatically fanning herself when you walked into the kitchen.

It was Saturday night, and Mina found herself in her apartment, blinds are drawn open, blankets were strewn around the living room, and hot homemade food sizzling on the stove. You were her roommate, and you’ve been her roommate for about seven months now. Both of you had met in a college class, being paired up multiple times for a few projects in the year had created an unlikely friendship that resulted in a roommate contract because you were moving to Tokyo after graduation, and hey! So was Mina!

You snorted by the stove, flipping the sweet crepes you had been making for the both of you in the pan. Turning your head to look at Mina, you playfully winked at her, posing your body in faux-seductive ways while you dipped your head back. 

“What can I say, the sweats of a heartbroken ex always look hotter on a champions fat ass.”

Mina laughed loudly, her hands bringing her sweet rosé to her lips, taking a long, deep drink of the alcoholic beverage. “I can’t believe you keep your exes clothes! I burn all of mine,” Mina states as if the two of you hadn’t already had this conversation a thousand times. 

“I don’t think you can talk!” you scoff, spatula in hand, flipping the light sweet into a roll. “You’re the one who goes and buys actual metals for every successive man you fuck! And you have sooo many metals!”

Also, something that had been repeated a million times, and yet never failed to get either one of you two in some laughing flush. 

“I do have so many metals,” Mina sighs, the grin on her face bright and proud while you walk over, crepes in hand. Thanking you for the food, Mina waited for you to settle down next to her before resuming the movie the two of you had decided to watch. “I promise, y/n, if you just look a guy in the eye and tell him you like his shoulders and his thighs, you’ll get him in bed in a blink of an eye.”

You hum, taking a chug of the rosé straight from the bottle, releasing it with a small pop that made Mina’s eyes rest on your swollen, wet lips. 

“Yeah, no. You see, I’m not really interested in that sort of stuff,” you admit, taking a bite from the crepe as the movie slowly becomes background noise.

“You haven’t dated anyone since high school,” Mina more than points out, tugging at the indeed high school logoed sweatpants. “That was like, four years ago, and you don’t sleep around?! What is it? You waiting for the Prince of some unknown country to come and wed you without you realizing he’s a prince? I mean, you can totally do that, especially with that hot bod of yours, but I know all the princes our age, none of them are even remotely hot!”

Mina watched as your eyes dropped to your food, the smile on your face small, maybe a bit... sad?

“It’s not that,” you shrugged, your eyes moving to lock on Mina. “Mina, I’m gay.”

What?

Processing Data…

Processing Data…

Processing Data…

Data Processed. Please Continue.

“WHAT?!”

A shit-eating grin spread on your face, and you nodded, taking another gulp of the rosé and shoving more crepe in your mouth. 

“YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU ALLOWED ME TO HAVE HETEROSEXUAL SEX WITH YOU IN THE APARTMENT AND DIDN’T TELL ME?!” Mina shrieked, suddenly mortified with her actions as her fingers clenched her curly pink hair. “WHAT ABOUT ALL THOSE MEN I TRIED HOOKING YOU UP WITH?! I mean, I know you didn’t fuck any of them, which ended up all fine because I would have cried if Kiri, Denki, or Sero stopped showing up.”

“Mina!” you laughed.

“I can’t believe you allowed me to force men on you; I’m so sorry, sweetie!”

Mina froze when your warm fingers suddenly grabbed onto hers, pulling her cold palms near your chest as your slightly glazed with alcohol eyes took her in.

“Listen, Mina, I’ll say this once, and I’ll repeat this. I didn’t tell you because I don’t care to share my sexuality. Not only that but all those men you introduced me to almost made me wish I was straight! Almost, but they’re a bit too…” Mina watched you trail off, your hammering heart a gentle smooth on her fingers.

“Stupid?” Mina tried, and you laughed as you nodded.

“Yeah, stupid.”

Mina gulped, her head nodding while you finally let go of her hands and sighed.

“Don’t be weird about it, Pinky,” you muse, shoving your shoulder against her. “I won’t hit on ya.”

Mina scoffed, clearly offended, “I think you should, though, my body is hot, and my kisses are just as good.”

It was said in jest, and Mina’s heart fluttered at the way you laughed with her in good spirits. That was normal, right?

Eventually, the contents of the rosé disappeared between the two of you, the movie long done, and the crepes sitting warm and sweet in your stomachs. Mina smiled brightly as she waved at you a simple goodnight as she needed to reorganize her snacks cabinet. Hearing the small click of your room door, Mina slumped against the counter, a weird feeling in her brain at the sudden revelation from you.

It didn’t make you any different in her eyes, she wasn’t a bigot, but there was something different.

Something new.

The cabinet wasn’t fixed up at all, Mina’s attention span forbidding her from reorganizing the cabinet until she turned off the lights and dragged her feet back into her room, conveniently located directly next to yours.

The apartment layout was weird.

Instead of a typical hallway separating the two rooms, it was a single, thin wall.

Now, Mina would categorize herself as many things, but dramatic was never one of them. But the way she had slammed her door in an attempt to clear the muggy storm of her thoughts might have been dramatic of her. Maybe a bit too dramatic. 

A loud tear came from the right side of her room, and Mina gasped loudly as the shelf showcasing her plethora of medals for all her sexual conquests tore the wall as it fell off. Stupid heavy bitch! Racing over to the wall, Mina frantically grabbed at the tearing cheap wallpaper, her eyes wide with worry as she tried to fix the shelf to no avail.

“M-Mina, are you okay?” a gasped breath came from the direct another side of the wall. 

“It’s all good!” Mina laughed loudly, her heart pounding because she was going to confess what was going on the second you asked again, as you usually do. But the only thing that followed was the roaring of her blood and heart as she stared at the wall.

Weird.

Mina didn’t dwell on it for too long, her hands throwing the medals off the shelf and onto the bed as she picked at the wall. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

She grazed the center of the wall and watched in horror as the wall crumbled at the touch, and she bit her tongue to keep from hysterically sobbing as a hole opened up from your room to hers. All things considered, it wasn’t a big hole, no bigger than the diameter of her pinky, but it was still a hole in the wall.

Despite the crack in the wall, Mina swore or prayed that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Pressing to the hole, she peered in and froze immediately. 

There weren’t many things in the world that made Mina freeze, but this was one of them. Her eye pressed to the wall saw that you were on the bed. Your sweats dropped around your ankles, shirt bunched above your breasts so that your fingers twisted and pulled at your nipples. The other hand held a vibrator to your clit.

Your face was scrunched up, the low hum of the vibrator suddenly piercing through the small crack in the wall, alerting Mina of a straight fire that erupted between her thighs as she watched you fuck yourself. The arch of your back when you come off the mattress makes her thighs rub together, and how your lips part in what she knows to be the most delicious moan, she’s ever managed to hear.

Mina isn’t sure when you stop masturbating that night, or even more importantly: when her panties became as fucking wet as they are.

She manages to put the shelf back onto the wall, her face absolutely red as she turns off the lights, ashamed to even go to the bathroom despite the discomfort of the slick between her folds. She dreams of having your mouth between her legs that night.

It doesn’t stop there, Mina’s ashamed to admit. 

As a matter of fact, she’s probably obsessed. 

She definitely didn’t keep her ear to the wall, desperately waiting to hear the low hum of the vibrator through the wall. She definitely didn’t pull the still broken shelf from the wall to peer through that crack to watch as you fucked yourself. She definitely does not, and she means, does not rub her fingers against her clit as she watches you.

But what was she currently doing when she heard the all too familiar consistent humming of one of your plenty of vibrators? She was stumbling off her bed, throwing the shelf off the wall, and using the crack in the wall to stare into your room. Except as she now unashamedly moved her fingers into her swats, fingertips grazing her already humming clit, she froze at the new sight she saw.

Typically, when you masturbated, you would lay along your bed. Your body laid out flat from the side for Mina to see. She never actually saw the slick of your cunt, or the way your pretty cunt would look like as you fucked yourself against a dildo. But today? Oh god, today was different.

You were propped up against the wall, your legs pressed open for Mina to see in all your glory. Your slicked, pretty pussy revealed for her eyes, and your head leaning against the wall as she watched. 

Mina moaned as her fingers began to rub her clit, the already fluttering, simmering sensation radiating from her bundle of nerves too tight, too demanding to ignore. She circled her clit as your fingers dipped into your core, and she bit her lower lip at the refined look of elation that wiped over your face. 

Your fingers moved in and out of your cunt, and Mina was hooked on the very exact angle your fingers were going in. Her mind wandering as she imagined that it was her in there with you. That it was her holding her fingers to your cunt, and not just fantasizes that drove her insane. Mina gasped as suddenly the dormant warmth in her legs sparked into a growing fire that made her legs shake and had her resting her forehead upon the wall.

Her eyes struggled to open when your feet kicked up off the mattress, toes curled to the balls of your feet as you keened loudly. A whimper left her lips at the way you moaned, the soft, beautiful sounds making Mina sink an impatient hand in her core.

She fucked herself, her eyes fluttering, lips gasping for air as she pressing her warm fingers against her even warmer walls. Mina gasped your name, her eyes trying to focus on that wall, and was absolutely frozen at the sight she saw next. 

You were holding a double ended dildo to your cunt, fucking your sopping wet cunt that Mina swore she could hear from her room. The vibrator was still on your clit, and Mina snapped her hips further, stronger into her scissoring fingers. It felt like you were teasing her with the toy as if you knew she was watching in and were teasing and testing her limits. Mina could feel herself shoving that dildo as far up her cunt as she could get it, her hands holding on to your beautiful thighs and bringing you in so that your slick cunts could grind against each other, fuck each other properly. If her brain wasn’t so muddled, she wouldn’t be thinking you were looking at her right now through the peephole, and she wouldn’t be thinking about the million different ways she’d fuck you given the opportunity. She wondered if you had a strap. Would you wear it if her fantasies were to ever come true? Would she? 

Mina couldn’t dwell on the secrets she wished to know because suddenly, you let out one of the loudest, most lewd moans Mina had ever heard emitted from your swollen lips. The slick of her heat and the wet of her essence easily letting her fingers glide about her clenching walls with practiced, well-known ease. You gasped, your eyes fluttering to the back of your head as your hand holding the dildo became more frantic, sloppier, before stopping altogether, and although you had reached an orgasm — Mina swore she saw god. 

Your orgasmic euphoric face was unlike anything Mina had ever seen.

The flustered, quiet pleasure reeking from every small line in your face, the way your mouth dropped just enough so that your pink tongue was on full display, the way you fought between biting down on your lip or letting yourself moan in your high. But it was the way your eyes crossed that sent Mina’s forehead slamming against her fist on the wall, muting the way Mina felt her walls clench wildly and tightly around her curled, lithe fingers.

She breathed in her descent, her cheeks burning with the same and bliss she always felt after orgasming. It wasn’t fair she came so soon watching you fuck yourself, especially as she knew she typically took so long in bed with men to make cum.

“Do you want to try it out?” your voice slipped into the room, and Mina froze, her blood suddenly turning ice cold. Her eyes snapped back to the dirty peephole to see that you were, in fact, staring into the hole, hand sliding the dildo into your cunt still, still willing and ready to go more round. “It gets a little lonely putting on a show for you night after night, Mina, and for you to never come and collect your prize.”

Mina swallowed, her eyes blinking owlishly at the way you shifted forward, turning so that your ass was in the air, knees, and chest on the mattress.

You knew.

“Come and collect your prize, please.”

“Y-Yes!”

Mina learned two things that night.

One: she especially and equally enjoyed having listless amounts of body worship mantra on her skin. The feeling of wet lips and hot breathes with things she was so used to giving made her cum around your pretty little fingers much more than she’d ever thought possible.

Two: you had known after the first night that she had caught you masturbating. Apparently, Mina was much louder than she thought herself to be, and when whining your name — she doesn’t remember even speaking — you had known and did all you could to finally getting your impulsive roommate to fuck you.

Oh, and I guess there is one more thing too!

Three: Mina had the absolute hots for you and was going to take you out for a proper date, tomorrow.

[dumdumsun]

Forever and Never

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this series ❤️ I’ve had so much fun writing this and am very proud of and excited for it, I can’t wait to see how people react to this. Um I know there are plenty of warnings for a first chapter, but I promise it’s not as depressing as it sounds. It’s just that this story can deal with heavy stuff sometimes, so I just wanna let you know that. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, death, sexual assault and mental illness

Word Count: 3194

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One: Hi, My Name Is

“So, what was your time in Pennsylvania like?”

“Uh… I’d have to say it was the best… and worst time of my life.”

“Best and worst, huh? Would you like to elaborate?”

“Well, I, uh… I mean, I don’t really know how to, like… explain it. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to begin… Or how I would even word it or anything.”

“Well, you told me you like television and movies, right? You know those shows and movies where the main character tells the plot as, like, their life story? Maybe you could try that.”

“You aren’t… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“You’ll know when I’m joking, trust me.”

“Oh… Okay, then. Well, um…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi? My name is… (Y/N)? This is my life story, I guess.

So, if we’re going to talk about my life in Pennsylvania, we’re going to have to start with my life in Kansas, first. I had two loving parents that soon turned into one at the too-young age of nine years, when my mom died. I remember her as one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. She had this way about her that was so carefree, yet she gave a shit about everything. You could never pin a thought to her because she never let you in on what was bouncing around in her head. She was stubborn and patient and lively. I miss her so much. I don’t usually think about her unless it’s a particularly hectic day, which I then resort to talking to the ring I wear on my left pinky finger at all times. Wasn’t anything special, just some cheap ring with a little emerald inside she found at a thrift store. It used to be hers and she’d wear it on the exact same finger. My dad said she’d want me to have it.

My dad is my favorite person. He isn’t the most… present, though. His mind is never set in one place, always racing with hundreds of unrelated thoughts. It’s why when you finally drag him back into reality, he can’t repeat a single sentence spoken to him. Regardless, he’s all I had for a long time. I never really learned what he does for a living, but I just know that it forces him to leave town sometimes. Well, more like all the time. Before my mom died, it was easy for him to leave for weeks on end, but when he became my only guardian, he didn’t really know what to do with me. It was like he completely forgot how to take care of a child, his child. When I turned twelve, that was when he started travelling again. I would then be home by myself for a month to eight weeks. In these times, I had no choice but to learn to cook for myself, go grocery shopping and housekeep. I became pretty independent at a young age. It wasn’t like Dad left me totally alone, though. He would call every two or three days and he sent me two hundred dollars every two weeks. Like I said, I don’t know what my dad did, but he was definitely getting paid. At the end of eighth grade, Dad had a particularly long trip to go on, so he sent me to Pennsylvania, where his sister lived.

Pennsylvania was partially the best part of my life because of my family. My Aunt Pam was like a second mother to me. She was never able to have another child after my cousin Jacob and she’s always wanted a daughter of her own, so that’s what I was to her. The daughter she could never have. I’d often find her staring at me with a bittersweet smile on her face, watching my every move with a sense of pride, but when I’d ask her what was wrong she’d only brush it off as her admiring me. My Uncle David didn’t necessarily view me as a daughter, but he certainly treated me like one. When he wanted to spend time with Jacob, he included me as well. We’d usually go on drives around the town, but I always fell asleep to the soft and serene music that filled the car from the radio. On the weekends, we would head down by the lake and spend hours learning to fish.

I hated it, but I couldn’t complain. It gave me a sense of certainty to live with a father figure who didn’t leave me alone every two or three months.

Jacob was like a brother to me. He’s a year older than me, which, to him, meant that he had to protect me at all costs. I always assumed it was because he always wanted a younger sibling, and I was the closest he was ever going to get to that. I always felt as though I’d never be able to equal Jacob on an intellectual level because he practically had the IQ of Albert Einstein himself. I felt inferior to him until I found out how much of a joy he really was. On the weekends, he would beg me to accompany him in a movie marathon. I learned that Jacob was a huge fan of Tim Burton (his favorite was Beetlejuice). He’s the only cousin I’ve ever known. Mom and Dad didn’t like each other’s families, so I never met anyone besides this little family. Moving in with them meant that they’d have this huge burden on them.

Yes, I almost forgot to mention that I struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. It just means that my mind is flooded with these crazy and unnecessary thoughts and so my behavior is affected by them. For example, if I were to blink and felt I put more pressure on my left eye than my right, I would have to repeatedly wink with my right eye until they felt balanced. Sometimes I can’t enter a room until I have inhaled eight times. If I scratch an itch on my left knee, I have to scratch the right one in the exact same place. At the sink, even if I don’t use both knobs, I have to hold both in my hands. And when I turn them off, I often have to check about four times before I am certain they’re turned off all the way. I know, it sounds tiring. Just imagine being on my end, having it be a part of who you are. I can’t do anything to stop it, I wish I could. I was always afraid to make friends because of this. If I couldn’t be balanced, I’d freeze, and I mean actually stop whatever I’m doing and stand still, until my body felt as if I were balanced once again. Who wouldn’t make fun of me for this?

Apparently, no one gave a shit about it. After moving to Pennsylvania, I made quite a name for myself at school. Literally. My name was Zip. I have no fucking clue how that ridiculous name came to be, but that’s what I went by day after day. One could say I was considered popular, but it wasn’t like I actually spoke to anyone. When it came to extracurriculars, I only participated in theatre. I never was part of the cast, just the stage manager. Secretly, I wanted so badly to audition and be a part of the magic they created on that stage. Not to boast or anything, but I had the talent and potential to be a starring role. But I could never bring myself to break out of my shell. Nonetheless, being stage manager still got me quite the attention. Everyone was always so nice to me, so I felt a little bad for not considering any of them as friends. That was until I met Dina.

Dina was new to our school sophomore year. She had this sort of light to her that attracted the pesky moths that were our dull and boring school body. We had the same social status in school. People liked our personalities, so we were well-liked and accepted without doing much to prove ourselves worthy. She was sweet and compassionate and so fun. I didn’t mean to become her friend, but she was so welcoming, despite being the newcomer. We became close friends, but not best friends. We already had people filling those roles.

Dina’s best friend was Sydney Novak. Sydney moved to Brownsville around the same time as Dina, so the two became best friends quickly, but Sydney wasn’t very popular at all. She was shy and introverted, but I thought she was nice enough. I liked her and thought she was a pretty cool person. We weren’t necessarily friends, we were just well acquainted simply because we were both close with Dina. The transitive property, if you would. I just wish we could’ve talked more, our relationship was pretty much nonexistent.

Speaking of nonexistent relationships, let’s talk about Richard Berry. I honestly don’t want to even think about him, but he played a role in my life that was too vital to just offhandedly mention. For some odd reason, Ricky Berry was absolutely in love with me. It was so obvious to everyone except for me. Sophomore year, he expressed his love through the most arrogant and cheesiest of pick-up lines and compliments. I wasn’t so easily won over, if you could guess. I tried being good friends with him, but he’d always fuck it up when he tried to initiate intimacy. I didn’t want to hold hands with him in the halls or receive “friendly” cheek kisses. I’m not what you would call affectionate, especially towards people I’m not close to. It’s just never been comfortable for me. Junior year, everyone around me was buzzing with excitement when they heard Ricky was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. The cheerleaders, who got to know him through his high school football career, constantly pestered me with reasons as to why I would be so lucky to date The Richard Berry. Granted, he became less of a dick junior year, so I thought, Why not?, and accepted. Being in a relationship with Ricky was the most one-sided… anything I had ever been a part of. He was undeniably enamored with me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to reciprocate those feelings. He would show me off to his family and friends like a trophy, but if someone asked me if I had a boyfriend I’d go, “I mean, yeah. I guess”, so not a very healthy relationship. It also didn’t help that Ricky knew nothing about boundaries.

One night, we were in his bedroom, studying for a science test. Ricky wasn’t focused at all and kept trying to kiss and cuddle with me. I let him for awhile, but then he took my book from me and set it on the ground beside his bed. He suggested we have sex right then and there. Now, I was never a prude and definitely didn’t wait to have sex for the first time, but I never wanted Ricky to be my first. He hadn’t earned enough of my trust to even touch me suggestively. So, of course I refused. Ricky only took that as me teasing him, so he advanced, nearly forcing himself on me. Using all my might, I shoved him off of the bed. He stood to his feet, utterly confused, but I only gathered my things and left his house. He tried following after me, but I ignored him until he turned and went back into his home. The next day at school, he was holding me and kissing me and showing me off to everyone like he always did. As if nothing happened between us the night before. It was difficult to do, since he was so inconsiderate, but I managed to break up with him. He tried to deny that we were Splitsville for about a week, but everyone caught wind of our break-up. Once everyone knew about it, it became true for him. I never really felt comfortable with being intimate or open with guys after that.

Besides with Stanley Barber, of course. Stan was my best friend in the entire world. I told only my deepest, darkest secrets to him. And he told me his. The only things we really had in common were our lack of mothers and our hideous bacne. Stan lived a few houses down and was eager to get to know me a week after I moved in. I’d never met anyone in my life like Stan. He was so awkward, but loveable. I don’t know, I guess he reminded me of my mom. The way he didn’t care, but he so clearly did. Whenever I wanted to talk about something that was difficult to voice, we’d smoke to ease the tension. Of course, this wasn’t how we always communicated. Despite his nervous stuttering, he was easy to open up to. Stan provided a sort of security in my life. He was never going to leave me and that put me at ease when hanging out with him, which we did regularly. I don’t know when exactly I developed a crush on him, but I never wanted it to surface in our bond. He was to never know. It was just a stupid crush, right? He was a guy who wasn’t family and was so unbelievably caring towards me. It was bound to happen, but that didn’t mean he had to be aware of it. Though, it was a little hard to keep such a secret when we’d both made out twice already. The first time was while I was dating Ricky, the kiss was very awkward and ended after about a minute and a half. The second kiss was just half a week after my breakup. That time, we’d both known what we were doing. And I may be a little biased, but you couldn’t have even thought to fake the passion in that makeout session. We never talked about either of those kisses and remained friends both times. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that we didn’t become anything more afterwards. It was for the best, though, because two weeks before spring break, my dad returned from his job in Georgia and moved me to Kansas again. The move was so abrupt that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone besides my family.

My life in Kansas for the second time was something I’d never want to experience ever again. Since it was a little late in the year, I finished junior year online. For some unexplained reason, my dad had us get new phones and new numbers, so I lost all contact with my friends. I had no one to talk to and it wasn’t like my dad paid much attention to me. I remember spending every waking moment with him when I was younger, talking or playing games or watching television. It used to be so fun being his daughter, but when we moved back to Kansas, I just felt like this huge burden in his life. Our relationship was strained and he clearly had other priorities in his life. Like whatever he left back in Georgia. I’d see his phone ring and the same number from that state would pop up before he’d leave the room and privately talk with whoever. It wasn’t the secrecy that was off-putting to me, it was the fact that it was so much more important to him. Once again, I was ignored by the one person in my life I wanted to spend the most time with. So, you can imagine the joy I felt when Dad had to go back to Georgia for work. I had been attending public school for my senior year and left not even a full month in. It didn’t bother me, I had no friends and nothing to leave behind. Mid-September was when I moved back to Brownsville with Aunt Pam. Everyone accepted me right back in. Especially my classmates. As I walked the halls I heard whispers like,

“Oh, my god, is that Zip?”

“Zip’s back! Where’d she even go?”

“I thought she died.”

The only person I really wanted to notice me was Stan. I missed him so much, I even got into his favorite band to have something to remember him by. I remember the day I got back to my aunt’s house. Jacob had picked me up from the airport and was driving me to the house. He was attending community college, but was still living with his parents. As we drove, he tapped his index fingers rhythmically to the shitty pop music that played on the radio. “So, what are you excited about for senior year?”

“Not much, I just missed Dina and Stan. Theatre, too. I wonder how they’ve been doing without me.” I chuckled. Jacob huffed in amusement.

“But you didn’t miss Ricky?”

“Fuck, Jake, you know I didn’t miss him for a second.” I frowned, waving my hand in dismissal. My cousin tauntingly laughed at me. Had he actually known about what happened between Ricky and I, he wouldn’t have teased me. In fact, Ricky wouldn’t even be alive that day if Jacob found out. No one knew about the incident, not even Stan.

Pulling up in front of the house, we got out of the car and headed to the trunk to pull out my bags. I tried carrying them in, but Jacob insisted that he do all the heavy lifting and simply asked me to carry my backpack and close the trunk. I did what little I was asked of and headed to the front door to greet my aunt and uncle inside, but stopped. In the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the Barber residence. Turning, my eyes locked on Stanley, who was frozen beside his car. He was wearing his work uniform and staring at me with the most bewildered expression on his face. It was like he thought himself to be hallucinating my existence. Smiling, I simply waved at him before walking back inside. When he got home from work that night, he headed over to my house and knocked on the door. I answered with a grin on my face. “Stan!”

“If it isn’t the famous Zip, showing back up in my life.”

“Ugh, do not call me that.” I rolled my eyes playfully before bringing him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin at the top of my head. I would’ve stayed there all night if I could’ve. When Stanley pulled away, my heart hollowed and a pit formed within my stomach. I felt unfinished, unbalanced. And I hate imbalance. He asked if I wanted to hang out and I accepted his offer. All we did was lay on his floor, listen to music and get high, but in that moment, that’s all I needed.

Bloodwitch, a joint, and Stan laying by my side.

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Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit

[shhhlikeme]

Love you writing and your sooo pretty like holly crap (god really do be picking favorites) ANYWAYS. Can you do a request with a reader that is super grumpy and clingy in the mornings please. Do it with what ever character you want I dont have a preference. Love you bby😘😘

Nishinoya Yuu x Needy & Grumpy S/O In The Morning 🤣

(slight NSFW)

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A/N: Awwwwww merci cherie, je taime aussi 💛 Whichever characters I want ahhh okieeee I did Noya here and I’ll probably do a part two with Toshi and a fluffy one with Hinata after I finish my reqs! Lmk if you’re feeling it!

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Noya:

At 8am, your bf woke up to a call from his best friend yelling at him to get his ass up

Noya told him to fuck off because his alarm was going to wake him up anyway, and Tanaka said ‘good’ and hung up

begrudgingly, Noya got up in your apartment while you were still asleep and dragged his feet into the attached bathroom to your bedroom to get ready and shower

Once his brain caught up with his actions he raced out of the bathroom to return to the bed just to kiss your sleeping figure on the cheek and lift the covers up a bit like he always does🥺

He took an extra second to stare at your beautiful sleeping face and he just did the sign of the cross and pointed to God because it is only by his grace that you shared a bed with him last night

Nishi turned on the shower in your en suite, leaving the door open because you said you love the way his body wash smells

A few minutes later, you woke up to the scent you love. You didn’t know why, but you were feeling upset and very needy (in more ways than one) this morning for absolutely no reason

All you knew was that you wanted your new bf of 2 weeks to make you feel better like he always does.

Not understanding why he’s up so early when he literally never wakes up before 1, you check your phone to check the date.

No! You smacked your bed sheets in dramatic anguish. Today is the day Nishi promised to meet Tanaka and Ennoshita all day to plan Hisashi’s big surprise birthday party. They were travelling to some beach house 2 hours away to see how it looks. Great.

Good for those man-children, you thought

They can all bite me tbh, you thought

So Ennoshita and Tanaka really think that they can just take your man away from you when you woke up moody for no reason all so they can get him to help them do something that’s completely fair? HOW DARE THEY!

They better think again!!!

Because you needed your man today, period

Noya was your boyfriend and you could swear Tanaka thought he was his sometimes

Well not really but that’s what the grumpy side of your mind told you this morning

You hear the pipe turn off and you hear your boyfriend get out of the shower and move around, doing God knows what in there but whatever it is he’s taking too long 😠

Sitting up on your butt in the darkness you looked around the dark room and then crossed your arms like a baby.

You yelled your boyfriends name.

Noya stumbled out the open bathroom door with his toothbrush and foam still in his mouth and his hair down.

“Ya, babe?”

He only had a towel wrapped around his wet torso and you liked it.

you glared at him for no reason.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere today.” You sneered.

He smirked because you looked so freaking cute. “Love, I told you already that I promised the guys that I would—“

“Let’s have sex instead, Noya. All day.” You stated: matter of fact.

Your boyfriend’s eyebrows raised so high they disappeared under his bangs. You’d only made love a handful of times and every time he wanted to go again you were dead asleep then one of you had to go, so hearing you say this was a lot for him to handle where ‘holding himself back’ was concerned.

Noya went back inside the bathroom and quickly finished brushing his teeth so you couldn’t see him from where you sat on the bed. In between spit and rinse he called out to you, “Don’t do this to me, Y/N. You’re not being fair saying something like that since you know the guys will kill me.”

Noya had already mentally fought down his morning wood today and the idea of having sex with you all day instead of being with his friends was like, all he ever wanted to do forever. Not that he didn’t love his friends—actually, he adored them and frankly spoiled them with his attention.... but the feeling of being inside your tight, wet, gripping walls????? There was no debate about it: it was the best feeling in the world.

Just then and as if he had implanted a microchip in his brain, Noya’s phone lit up with a second FaceTime call from his best friend Ryu. Noya dried his hand and swiped left to answer.

He immediately put his index finger to his lips as to say ‘be quiet’ because you were outside this bathroom.

Noya turned down the volume to a level only he could hear anyway, knowing how loud his friend was.

On the screen was Ryu and Ennoshita in the apartment the 3 boys shared. Ryu obviously propped the phone up on the wall so that Noya could see the two boys also brushing their teeth in their his & his bathroom.

As expected, Ryu yelled but it came out quietly through Yuu’s low volume, “NOYA, DO NOT LET Y/N SEDUCE YOU INTO STAYING. ONE HOT BABE IS NOT MORE IMPORTANT THAN OUR BOY FROM HIGH SCHOOL, MAN. AND I KNOW THAT BI—I MEAN THAT CHICK WILL TRY IT.”

Ennoshita was calm as usual, standing beside Tanaka. He asked him to rinse before he got toothpaste everywhere. “YN is pretty important too, Tanaka. That’s Noya’s new and first girlfriend, remember?” Ennoshita rolled his eyes as Tanaka spun in the air in exasperation.

“ENNOSHITA WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON DUUUDE ?!” Tanaka looked back at the camera. “Tell him, Noya. Tell him cause he wasn’t there. He didn’t see that night when Y/N walked in the bar and had all the guys buying her drinks. She just asked Noya once if he knew where the bathroom was and 💥 BAM. Noya was following her around like a sick puppy.”

Noya deadpanned. “That’s not true—“

it was totally true

“YOU CAN SAY ITS NOT TRUE ALL YOU WANT NOYA BUT THE TRUTH STILL REMAINS: HOT GIRLS ARE SIMULATIONALOUSLY THE MOST POWERFUL AND EVIL CREATURES IN THE WORLD.”

Ennoshita looked at him like wtf.... “Simulationalously?” Chikara rolled his eyes again. “You mean simultaneously.”

“WHATEVER, ‘DAD!’ YOU WIN THE SPELLING BEE TODAY ?!”

Noya opened his mouth to finally say something, but before he could he heard you call him from the bed.

“Oh Noyaaaa.....?”

Nishinoya heard your lovely voice coo him sexily, knowing he would clue in on your sexual innuendo.

“Crap. SEE ENNOSHITA?! SHE’S STARTING! NOYA — DO NOT GO! NO SEDUCTION ZONE, BRO!”

“Noyaaaaa baby?”

You cooed again, this time more playfully seductive.

Noya followed the sweet sound of your voice like he was in a trance, going to the edge of the door only as a precaution so that he could hear you better but not see you.

“Y-yes babe?” He asked shakily.

“I need your help with something baby....mmmm.” 🥺

With his phone still in his hand, Noya shut his eyes. His chest moved up and down noticeably as his breathing increased.

“Well damn.” Ennoshita finally looked at the camera now with wide eyes. “Is that Y/N? She even sounds hot.”

Noya opened one eye and nodded at his father-like friend.

Tanaka whined, “She’s hot as fuck, to be honest. Which is why she’s so powerful. Hey, give me your phone I’ll show you her Instagram.” Explained Tanaka. Ennoshita did and Tanaka pulled it up in a second, handing the phone back to his roommate.

After a second of scrolling Noya heard an, “Oh my God...” as Chikara ran a hand through his hair.

Tanaka nodded. “Yep! And that is exactly why we need to get our boy out of there safely before she engulfs him and turns him into her own personal robot! Before she realizes that she has him wrapped around her pretty little finger!” Tanaka pointed to Noya through the camera. “We have a party to plan, NOYA! I made an appointment with the venue and everything!”

Noya straightened his shoulders, agreeing completely with what his best friend was warning him of. “Right.” He finally whispered, determined now. “I double pinky swore that I’d be there.” Nishi nodded.

“Right! Exactly! That’s my Noya, my best buddy!”

“Noyaaaa.....I really need your help....”

Your slight moan that followed your call made Noya bite the knuckle of his index finger immediately to keep himself from running over to you because of how alluring your voice was.

On the phone, Tanaka spoke up: “Don’t go out there, man......”

Noya thought of something scary. “But Tanaka, my clothes are out there!”

Tanaka shook his head. “Who cares??! I’ll buy you new clothes. Just go downstairs and we will pick you up. Don’t look back just run. Just run—“

The three boys were silenced when they heard a loud moan coming from the bed. It was your moan that you raised your voice for, in hopes of that reaction precisely.

Noya couldn’t help himself anymore, he slowly peaked out from behind the bathroom door to see what you were doing.

And what you were doing should be downright illegal, as far as Noya or Tanaka were concerned.

What Noya saw was you laying on your bed, the sheets only up to your hip bones. You were only wearing a purple bra that had the straps falling off your gorgeous shoulders. Your eyes were closed as you were biting your lower lip. As much as Noya wanted to keep staring at your to-die-for rack and beautiful face, Noya’s eyes were glued to a movement however, which was you moving your hand in a steady rhythm under the sheets. Your hand was between your legs of course and you had a look of ecstasy on your face. Even though your lower half was completely covered by the sheets, it didn’t take a genius to know what you were doing.

The now-older second years on FaceTime couldn’t see anything from where Nishi held his phone but they sure could guess what was happening in that room from the look on Noya’s face!

“Mmmmmm.....yes.....”

After a minute of peeping, when Noya looked back at his phone screen all he could see was a closeup of Tanaka and Ennoshita’s ears because they clearly were desperate to hear more of his girlfriend’s antics. Your bf turned back to look at you when your voice mounted again.

“Oh Noya, I want it harder, baby, harder...”

Noya couldn’t feel his limbs. You made him so horny he was numb.

“This feels almost as good as the real thing, baby, but it’s not nearly enough......”

Noya screamed internally, feeling like he was at a crossroads. A crossroad where one side’s sign said ‘FRIENDS’ and the other sign said ‘REALLY? WE’RE PRETENDING YOU AINT COMIN’ THIS WAY? 😑’

As Noya stood at the metaphorical crossroads, you kept it up.

“Yes, Noya, I want the real thing.... I want it over and over again today.....As long as it’s the real—“

You broke your speech to moan.

“—As long as it’s the real thing, Noya. I want the real thing..... Mmmmmm Senpai—“

“Fuck!” Shouted Tanaka on Facetime as he slammed his fist on the counter in anger. “She fucking got him!”

Noya looked down at his phone and he could see his best friend cradling his head in his hands in defeat. Tanaka looked at Noya once and he knew it was game over. Ryu shook his head. “Just go, Noya. The hot chicks of the world win again for today. I’ll uh....I can reschedule our venue appointment.”

Noya started involuntarily bouncing as he looked at his friend from inside the bathroom. “A-are you guys s-su-sure bec-because I-I think I can st-still run out and—“

Getting irritated, you shouted at your boyfriend. Not knowing that your mad voice was a turn on for him too.

“Noya-senpai, If you come now I’ll do that thing you like with my tong—“

“COMINGG!!!!” Noya yelled as he tossed his towel and phone to the opposite end of the bathroom in a hurry. Take a guess where he went.

With the towel now over their vision, Tanaka and Ennoshita looked to and from eachother in awe.

“Soooooo.....does Y/N have any friends that look like her or..?”

Tanaka flicked his roommate on the head. “Shut up. Come on, you’re buying me breakfast.”

Ennoshita grimaced. “Why me?!”

“Because I’m really upset, Chikara. Duh! And you’re practically mine and Noya’s father!”

Ennoshita rolled his eyes for what felt like the 20th time that morning. “Alright.” He sighed, before hanging up the FaceTime call.

[dramaworthyofsrk]

Like Passing Notes in Secrecy, pt. 5

Summary: The relationship you and Peter share, as told by the notes that you two pass to each other. Inspired both by the song lyric used for the title and for that moment in To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before when Josh says to Lara Jean “still think you’ve never gotten a love letter?”

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 6  Part 7

Ever since you found out Peter was Spider-Man, you've taken to leaving your windows slightly open at night, enough that it’ll be easy for him to open it the rest of the way and come say hi. He does it whenever he can and he has to admit, he wonders about your sleeping habits when he drops by in the middle of patrol to see you scrolling through your phone or watching TV on your laptop. 

“You should really get more sleep, you know,” he states one day, when you’re both lounging on your bed, watching Buzzfeed Unsolved videos (even though he’s told you multiple times that going back on patrol after watching true crime videos — funny or not — freaks him out a bit). 

“Whatever, Peterrrr,” you respond, not even looking up from where your head is pillowed on his arm as you take a quick Snapchat selfie. “You’re the one up patrolling until 3 in the morning. Besides, I need to know you make it home safe before I fall asleep.” 

Peter sits up a little, jostling you as he does so which causes you to glare at him a little bit. “You’re staying up for me?” 

“Well I-” you’re blushing and stammering a little bit which is how he knows you’re definitely staying up for him. “Shut up.” 

Peter shakes his head at her, “you can’t be doing that, that’s not good for you.” 

“Not getting enough sleep isn’t good for you either!” you argue in response. 

Fuck, you’re really going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you? “Fine, let’s make a deal,” Peter says after a second, thinking it over in his head. “I will continue to text you when I get home every night and I’ll share my location with you, but if you keep staying up waiting for my text, I will stop coming over every night.” 

You gasp at his threat, narrowing your eyes at him again, “you wouldn’t.” He nods at you, letting you know that he absolutely would. “Fine, Peter, I’ll get more sleep, you hypocrite.” He smiles and holds out his pinky for you to promise, which you do, albeit reluctantly. As if to prove you're upset by the deal you've made with him, you immediately switch over from Buzzfeed Unsolved to Criminal Minds, making the crime aspect of the show even worse. 

Despite how much he hates that you punished him with Criminal Minds, it seems his deal has worked because when he stops by your window one night, you’re already asleep, a movie paused on your laptop that he knows you had queued up for them to watch together. He smiles at the image of you curled up on one side of your bed, phone still in hand and laptop waiting, taking a mental picture of the moment before moving your laptop to the desk and plugging your phone into the charger. 

He looks around a bit before spotting a stack of sticky notes on your desk and he steals the top one and a pink pen so that he can write you a quick note so you know he came by. 

hey sleeping beauty,

 came by to say hi but you were asleep

good thing since i did NOT want to watch princess diaries again

glad you’re taking my advice on getting sleep :)

love,

your fave superhero

Peter thinks you might text him in the morning but when you do, there’s no mention of the note and he wonders if you saw it. He remembers that he left it stuck to your water bottle though so there was no chance that you missed it. When he gets to school and opens his locker though, there’s a sticky note stuck to one of the shelves and he’s grateful for the fact that you have his locker combination. 

dear spider-boy,

you are NOT my favorite superhero

and you love princess diaries! 

love, 

your fave damsel-not-in-distress

As it turns out, you really had been staying up for Peter, because now that this seems to be a viable option for you, you’re asleep more often than not when he goes over. He kinda likes it, if he’s being honest, even though he loves hanging out with you, because it’s fun to write you notes and he loves getting to school to find a new one there. It’s an unspoken agreement that you never talk about what’s said in the notes outside of the notes, a silent conversation happening only in that form. 

dear damsel-not-in-distress,

wait who’s your favorite superhero? 

and it’s spider-MAN

love,

get it right next time

dear get it right next time,

spider-BOY was building lego sets last weekend if i remember correctly

capt. america is sooo dreamy

love, 

i’ve never been wrong

dear i’ve never been wrong,

he’s not that dreamy in person tbh

plus i like totally beat him in a fight once

love,

way cooler than capt. america

dear way cooler than capt. america,

you should let me decide that for myself ;)

beginner’s luck, mr. parker

love, 

cap’s #1 fan

dear cap’s #1 fan,

no, 

he’s like 100 also.

love,

a superhero of APPROPRIATE age

dear a superhero of APPROPRIATE age,

ugh what a ~daddy~

love,

jealousy is kinda hot ngl

dear jealousy is kinda hot ngl,

STOP.

love,

i’m not jealous

dear i’m not jealous,

i’m not sorry and you totally are jealous

but there’s nothing to be jealous of

web-shooters >>> a giant trash can lid

love, 

spider-man super fan

That one makes him smile all day long. It’s also the one that gets Ned to finally ask what’s going on with all of these notes that you keep leaving for each other. 

“Seriously,” Ned complains as they walk toward class, “it’s not like you two don’t talk all day long or see each other after school. Why this?” 

Peter shrugs in response, “I don’t know, it’s how she knows I’m safe at night? I can’t really explain it.” 

“I can,” MJ sneaks up on them, making Peter and Ned both flinch a little. “It’s really obvious that you two have feelings for each other.” 

“No we don’t,” Peter blushes, never having expected that the girl he used to have feelings for would be talking to him about the girl he currently has feelings for. MJ just levels him with a look and he sighs, “okay fine, I do but she doesn’t.” 

They’re stopped outside of their classroom now and MJ just shakes her head at him before walking into the classroom, “you’re an idiot, Parker.” 

Peter scowls at her back but doesn’t say anything in response. He would love if you returned his feelings but you don't. He spends all his time with you, doesn’t MJ think that he would know if you had feelings for him too? 

[ethelphantom]

What’s a Soulmate?

Heeeeeyyy so I'm here again even though I'm totally supposed to be studying for my upcoming exam week (I've got seven exams coming once Thursday arrives on every single day except for the weekend. Oh well.

This is based on the What's a Soulmate? audio thing that went around a lot more before, and I've been wanting to write something based on it for years now. So. You're getting a Daminette fic based on it.

If you're still HOPEFULLY reading this, here's a little thing. This fic WILL get very angsty (like, heavy angst and grief and death and stuff) BUT it will also get way better later. There's a happy ending, their story will get a happy ending, and this will NOT end like Of Flowers and Strawberries, I swear, seriously. Pinky promise and all that. So, once you get there, just keep reading. You'll get your happy ending.

Ao3 || The audio

This is Maribat -- don’t like, don’t read.

________

“What's a soulmate?”

A girl with black hair leans against a boy around her age, his hair just as black as hers. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and kisses her forehead like the rest of the world didn’t matter. Their intertwined fingers bring them comfort as they watch the sunset on the horizon, painting the world in warm, calming tones of red, orange and yellow.

It doesn’t matter that they know their time is limited. They are together now, and that is all that mattered in the world.

After all, the memories they had together were everything.

“It's a… Well, it's like a best friend, but more.”

“I hope you two have a good explanation for this.”

The girl looks at the boy, both considering their next words carefully. They absolutely cannot let his older brother know how the kitchen and garden caught on fire at the same time as though on cue even though they weren’t even in the house, because everyone else is too scared to do such a thing. Especially with the butler still in the house, prepared to scold them and take away their rights to spend time together for a while.

Maybe they would deserve it and all, but it doesn’t matter. The children do not want to spend any less time together regardless of their actions.

“We have three, actually,” the girl says and tilts her head with feigned innocence. All of them know she’s responsible for whatever she’s being accused of this time, just like the boy is, but they don’t really care. If there’s anyone that could pull off looking innocent while covered in blood and then get away with murder, it would be her. No doubt.

“Pick your favourite,” the boy tells his older brother, only to make him exasperated and sigh as he buries his head in his hands. It seems they’re going to get away with it again. Like always. They never have the energy to deal with the both of them at once. Perhaps going over this with one of them at a time wouldn't be too much to him, but as it is, he tried to save time and scold both of them at once.

“Fine, you can go,” his brother finally tells them and leaves, muttering something about children being impossible and him not understanding how they keep succeeding.

The boy grabs the girl’s hand and squeezes it. “I told you, Malaki, didn’t I? We can do anything together, even survive my older brother’s intervention.”

“So you did, mon cœur. So you did.”

—

“What’s the plan for our next grand scheme?”

“I have an idea!”

“That’s wonderful. What is it?”

“Well, it involves fire—”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

After all, they ended up getting along like a house on fire.

“It's the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else.”

If there was one place in the world where you’d least expect to find either of them, it would probably be under the table in a gala. Yet, times and times again, that was exactly where one of them always found the other. Usually, crying or at the very least uncomfortable with the situation around them.

The year they announced they were engaged to one another to the world was the first (and perhaps last) time this didn’t happen even though they weren’t comfortable in the least with the people around them. They weren’t even allowed to be with each other as people crowded each of them separately, asking how and when and why everything happened. After all, they had kept their relationship secret until now.

From the corner of his eye, Damian noticed the clear discomfort on his habibti’s face. No one was allowed to do that to her. None of them even noticed how horrible they were making her feel — she was on the brink of tears but kept smiling through it. They didn’t give her any personal space, not even space to breathe. His habibti was strong, but this wasn't a situation when she should need to be.

Damian made his way through the crowds to Marinette, not caring for a second if it meant having to push people out of his way with force, if it meant someone might get hurt because of him and his actions. All that mattered (and the only one that mattered) was his habibti and that she was not comfortable.

As he saw someone with a glass full of wine, he got a great idea. He made sure he walked into them, or that they walked into him, and that their drink would spill on him. He detested the feeling of being in wet clothing and smelling like alcohol more than he could even begin to explain, but what wouldn’t he do for his beloved.

The person began apologising over and over to Damian, him being his father’s heir and all, but he just glared at them and walked off to his fiancée.

“Malaki, I am afraid this imbecile spilled their drink on me, and you know how much I hate smelling like alcohol. Could you perhaps help me clean up and change into dry clothing?” he asked, knowing he sounded exactly like the rich, arrogant, self-centered, entitled brat he was raised to be and everyone thought he truly was. It was fine, as long as it was for her and she knew what he was doing.

“Look at him, forcing her to leave such a wonderful event for him. To help him when he could very well do so by himself. So selfish.”

“Shut it! If he hears you, you might get kicked out! He’s the son of Bruce Wayne!”

“Well, if he wanted his only biological son not to be bad-mouthed, he ought to not take him to this kind of places.”

Damian didn’t pay any attention to them and just held her hand, as though ready to drag her away with him. Both of them knew that was not what it was for, though. It was reassurement that he was there for her, that he was going to save her if she so wished.

The squeeze of his hand confirmed Marinette did want it.

“Of course I will. Let’s go. I’ll have Tim inform your father about this,” she said, trying not to look so relieved to get away, but the look in her eyes betrayed it to him easily.

Damian kissed her hand and led her away through the masses, ignoring any and all unpleasant comments directed at him. He knew she was uncomfortable, and for her, he would do anything, he could take anything, he could endure anything.

After all, Marinette was his everything.

“It's someone who makes you a better person.”

A long time ago, Damian thought he could get anything and everything at the snap of his fingers because he was the grandson of the Ra’s al Ghul, and then he thought he could have everyone at his every beck and call because he was the blood son and the legal heir of the Bruce Wayne. Of the Batman. They would start dancing to his music the second he told them so, that much was sure.

And he treated people like one would expect him to precisely because of that mindset no one ever helped him to lose.

He could get anything he wanted, and he was sure that even the most expensive things in the world where obtainable because he had the money. Or, his father had, but it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have gotten anything he wanted anyway.

Dying certainly didn’t ease things. After all, his father and mother had gone to great lengths only to resurrect him. That must have meant he was worth more than others. He was worth more than his brothers. Of course he was, he was his father’s true son. If they had died, the rest would have stayed dead; no one would have desperately tried to find a way to get them back.

People around him didn’t matter, no matter whether they were family or foe. If he didn’t need them, he could simply discard them and show them he didn’t care at all. Because he didn’t. Even if he needed them, he rarely spoke to them with much respect — the only ones that he thought deserved his respect were his father, Alfred, his mother and his grandfather. No one else mattered.

And then…

Then there was a girl.

No, there was the girl.

The girl who saw him.

Someone who took one look at him and decided that no, she was not going to do whatever he wanted her to no matter who he was because she was her own person and he did not own her. She did not belong to him, she did not owe him anything. She looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw how lonely his behaviour and actions made him.

“Marinette. My name is Marinette.”

Yes, Marinette was the first to actually see him and see through him. He kept trying to push her away, but she was determined to see things through as long as she didn’t make him uncomfortable — and she knew exactly when to back off even when he wasn’t able to express his discomfort. Every. Single. Time.

Slowly, as time passed by, they became friends. He started to see the value of his family, understand their lives were worth something. Marinette smiled when talked about his brothers with a hint of respect for the first time near her.

Then best friends. He knew he valued his family a lot, they were worth so much it didn’t take him even half of a second to go to their defense, even if he still hardly showed any of the care he held for his family to them. Marinette beamed when he admitted he loved them for the first time. She threw herself at him and hugged him tight when he made an offhand comment about other people he didn’t even know having some kind of a basic worth because they were human.

It took a long time, but as she snuggled closer to him and he kissed her forehead while they watched the fire dance in the hearth, he knew that there was something he could never obtain with money or fame. There was one thing more precious than any other, one thing that he could only get once he admitted he was only rich in the literal sense of the word.

Marinette had made him understand that he would only be rich once he had something he couldn’t buy with money — something that had a name, a face and feelings. Something that could walk away if he fucked up. Something that loved him and that he loved back with all his heart.

Or perhaps, someone rather than something.

Damian learnt that other people were valuable when he finally let Marinette show and teach him that the world was also a good place that held so many opportunities to learn from if he just knew to look for them.

And truly, Damian learnt that other people mattered, regardless of whether they were family or foe, because they were human. He wouldn’t need to like all of them and he could hold some people more dear to him than others, but no one was worth nothing.

But he knew that Marinette would still be the most precious and valuable thing he could ever have, and god forbid if he didn’t do his damnedest to make sure she knew that and that he wouldn’t lose her.

After all, Marinette was worth everything.

“Actually, they don't make you a better person,”

“I’m glad you came into Damian’s life, Teacup,” Dick told Marinette one day while they were watching Damian and Jason spar. Tim was working as a referee, Marinette and Dick were there simply to enjoy themselves and make sure Damian and Jason didn’t kill each other… or Tim. All of the three were a little too important to them for them to lose.

“What do you mean?” she asked in turn though she didn’t take her eyes off her boy. She was cheering for him, albeit quietly, because she knew there was a chance she could be a distraction and that meant Jason’s win.

“Your love for him is so…” Dick seemed to try and search for a fitting word as he tilted his head, “unconditional . No matter what he does, you still love him and accept him, so long as he understands how his actions may affect others and then does accordingly. You don’t let him push you away, but you also don’t let him walk over you or hurt you if you can help it. You’re good to him.”

“But you do that as well, don’t you?”

“No. I mean, yeah, I do, but it’s more out of obligation as his family. Even I might not be able to tolerate him as much as you have if I were not his older brother. But you, you came into his life and stayed. You’ve changed him and made him a better person.”

Marinette stayed quiet for a while after that, watching the boys solemnly. She rested her head in her hands and sighed before she closed her eyes. “No,” she said and shook her head. “I have not made him a better person.”

“But you—”

“Dick, no. He’s changed, yes, and I know he’s changed the most after I came into his life, but perhaps it’s just that he needed a different perspective to things. He kept pushing everyone away but he was lonely, so the least I could do was to be there and stay there. Or help him find someone else. All that’s changed in him… it was all him. People don’t change that much if they aren’t willing to, but he actively and consciously worked on himself to become a better person. Don’t take that credit away from him and give it to me,” she replied.

Dick huffed with a smile on his face. Marinette certainly was good for Damian. That boy better not fuck it up.

As Damian won and Jason lay on the ground, defeated, Marinette jumped up and cheered before she ran to Damian and tackled him on the ground with a hug. Dick smiled and walked to his family, congratulating both of his brothers. He was glad she was in their lives, in Damian’s life, because she had so much love to give, and while she was not good at taking, Damian was determined to make sure she couldn’t go without receiving a lot in return.

Because after all, she loved him with her everything, and he too loved her everything.

“you do that yourself…”

Changing oneself was more difficult than Damian wanted to admit. Everything had always been so easy to him (or at least it had been far less difficult than this was), so much had just been handed to him.

But this?

Yeah, no. He hated it and he didn’t want to do it. It was annoying, he didn’t want to change, and all of this was so horrible.

The thing was, it didn’t matter that he didn’t want it — for himself, at least. The reason as to why he needed to do it was because there was someone he couldn’t keep treating like he did now. That also meant having to change. He wanted to change for her, he wanted to be able to give her what she deserved — and she deserved so much good. Damian couldn’t let himself keep being like he was now.

Marinette loved and loved and loved, and she kept coming back to him no matter how he was like to her. She didn’t give up. That said, whenever he went too far, she didn’t hesitate to call him out, sometimes even in front of other people, even if she did it politely and didn’t try to insult or offend him in any way — no, she went out of her way to try and avoid it, because, to quote her, “no one, even you, should be treated like that, because everyone deserves being shown respect.”

Well, he was fairly sure she always mumbled something about a Lila not deserving respect, but he decided to ignore it… for now.

And so, he looked up what he could do to change and started doing those things actively. Or trying to do so, anyway.

He found himself biting his tongue more often than he ever had just to keep himself from saying something that Marinette deemed offensive or insulting to other people. He started reading people to find what were their weak points, not because he wanted to hurt them, but because he wanted to avoid doing so. And maybe it was a bit because if they dared to hurt his friends, he would know perfectly how and where to strike them.

Then, once he knew how to do that and didn’t need to pay as much attention to it as he had at the beginning, he started trying to do one kind thing to people every day — and someone other than Marinette, Jon or Colin. To them he managed to be an alright person more often than any other people. Sometimes it was helping them with their schoolwork, sometimes it was defending someone from harassment or bullying, sometimes it was as simple as being polite and thanking them. Like Marinette told him, he didn’t need to conquer the world for anyone — on the days he was too tired to do much, the simple “thank you” or holding a door open for someone was more than enough.

And slowly but surely, he started finding himself feeling better. It was easier to let go of anger, his relationships with other people improved, he didn’t snap at people all so easily. It was rather refreshing to, for once, hear other people say something positive about him instead of complaining about his actions.

All because he had once decided Marinette deserved better than him, but he still wanted to be the one beside her. That had meant working on himself to become the person he thought she deserved, a person worthy of her.

After all, she deserved everything.

“...because they inspire you.”

“Hey, Damian?”

“Yes, Malaki? What is it you’re thinking about?”

Marinette massaged Damian’s hand with her thumb, trying to decide how she wanted to voice her thoughts.

“I— I’m proud of you,” she finally decided. Marinette smiled at her boyfriend, happy she was able to spend time with him. “You’ve grown so much in the past few years and even months I’ve known you. I’m not sure what is the main reason for that, but that doesn’t matter, I’m just happy you seem to be doing better nowadays. Are you?”

Damian huffed and squeezed her hand. “Yes, I am. And you, sadiqti alhabiba (my beloved girlfriend), you were what drove me to change. You deserve so much and I wanted to be worthy of you and worthy of your love,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. “And I thank you for that.”

Chuckling, Marinette leant against him and closed her eyes, knowing that she was safe as long as he was with her. She didn’t need to be on her guard all the time.

“You’re a fool.”

“A fool? Perhaps, but then I am a fool in love with the angel who decided I was worth fighting for.”

After all, she thought he was worth her time.

“A soulmate is someone who you can carry with you forever.”

His breathing got significantly faster as he frantically tried to look for his beloved, and once his eyes landed on her body some metres away, they widened in horror. He could only barely see her from the smoke that obscured his vision, but the blood staining the ground and her petite body was more than easy to spot.

He kicked the man in front of him away, with much more force than he knew was necessary, but it didn’t matter to him — he just needed to get to her. Nothing else mattered right at that moment.  

Damian ran towards his beloved, coughing the smoke out of his lungs. He covered his mouth and nose to keep himself from breathing all of it, but his hand fell when he finally saw Marinette in front of him.

Dead.

Her eyes were wide open, red from all the impurities in the air, and the streams of her tears were still visible on her face as ash and dust had dyed them dark. Her mouth was still open in a silent scream that never got out of her lungs, because there was a clear bullet shot gone through the left side of her chest and a blade had impaled her throat.

Why, oh why hadn’t she worn her miraculous suit that day?

Why had he let her go out without it?

And why had he let her come with him — he knew they were up against the League of Assassins.

Damian gathered her small body in his arms, bringing her close to his chest and holding her tight. He’d be damned if he let anything worse happen to her, he’d be damned if he let her body be taken away from her.

“You—” Damian choked out the word and tried to keep his tears at bay, batting them away from his eyes. “You made me love you— you made me let you in and you—” He breathed in sharply and tried to regain his composure, but it was nearly impossible. He clutched her tighter in his arms as though she was just injured and he needed to get her away from there…

But he knew that wasn’t possible. “And then you died in my arms.” The last words were barely breathed out because he couldn’t— he wasn’t able to get his voice out. It was stuck in his throat along with the lump that made it so hard to breathe, so hard to stay up and standing when he would have rather crumbled then and there.

“You’re on your own!” he yelled to his comms, knowing he didn’t need to but he couldn’t help it right then and there. He could only hope Red Robin and Red Hood were alright with it, that they would survive without him and Marinette, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to fight longer than this without needing to kill the ones that were the reason his beloved was dead.

There was no doubt about it. If he stayed, he would kill the ones that were the reason they were even fighting to make them pay.

...And she would not be happy about it.

As it turned out, they won. Both his mother and grandfather were dead, the League was gone from the face of the earth (they would create it again one day, but they were gone for now and that was better than it had been for the longest time now. His beloved’s death wasn’t in vain.

Her funeral was a quiet affair.

It wouldn’t have even been necessary as she had wanted to be cremated, but he had insisted on it. Damian wouldn’t have wanted her to be cremated, but he knew it had been her request so he never attempted to not let it happen. That’s why the least he could do was to make sure there was at least a funeral for her. He dressed up in white and black for the funeral, which was the reason he stood out in the crowd, but he couldn't care less.

He was allowed to keep his wife’s ashes in their home, though he did spread some of them around the Wayne family’s lands since she had enjoyed spending time there a lot. Damian needed to make sure that her last place (or places, he supposed) of rest would be one she loved— no, had loved, because she was dead now — when she was still there in the world with him. She had been too young to die. They had barely graduated from university a few years earlier. She didn’t deserve it.

His brothers tried to console her. They really did. Cain tried her best as well, just staying there with him in silence while each of them did their own thing, letting the other one grieve. It was nice. If there was anything good about Marinette’s death, it was that he ended up getting closer with his family.

Not that he preferred having better relationships with them — he would have chosen his beloved over them any day.

On the first anniversary of her death he crumbled against their dinner table and tried to hold onto the table as he fell on his knees under the weight of his suppressed grief and agony. Damian could feel tears running down his face until he knew all he could do was to let it be, and so he sobbed.

“Oh god, why can’t you be here? I should have been the first of us to die, not— not you.”

He had trouble breathing and he could only take short, sharp breaths. All he needed was to be able to hold his wife, his beloved, but that was the only thing he would never be able to do anymore.

Later that night Drake — no, Timothy, because maybe he deserved that much for dealing with him that night without making fun of him even once — came over and just forced Damian to the sofa and gave him food he had bought before that. After that, he used Alfred’s recipe for an Irish coffee to calm him down a little.

Timothy let him set the pace — if Damian wanted to talk, he was allowed to and Timothy would sit there in silence, listening to him, unless it was clear he wanted Timothy’s thoughts on the matter, or they would both be quiet, and at some point Damian was rather sure they had watched a few movies without really sleeping. Eventually, the coffee had him rather tired and he fell asleep, leaning against Timothy’s shoulder.

Come the morning, and Timothy was still there. He even offered Damian rather sound advice, once he’d thought it over and realised Timothy was, in fact, right and didn’t deserve the blowing up he’d received from Damian.

“With the death of a loved one, you’ve got to let yourself grieve. Otherwise, you will not be able to get better. It’s just a sign there’s excess love inside you that you can’t give anyone because that bit of love was reserved for someone special. It’s… Well, it’s something you need to let yourself feel because otherwise it will make you come crashing down and you don’t want to collapse,” he told Damian after making him sit down and drink some water. It looked like Timothy hadn’t slept at all.

And he looked even worse than he usually did — he looked worse than Damian knew he himself had looked when Timothy had found him the day before.

“It’s unlikely you’ll ever be able to stop grieving, but… It will get better. One day. Slowly. And then sometimes it will hit you all over again, but on those days — well, every day, but especially on those days — I’m here. All of us, all of your family is. We won’t let you go through this alone. She was dear to us all, too.”

Later on (it must have taken some weeks, because by the time he heard it, Timothy had gone missing again) he heard from the rest of his family that it was amazing Timothy had come to him then. They still hadn’t gotten along well at that time (they’d gotten along on any level before his beloved’s death only for her sake as she’d expressed her utter sadness whenever they fought too much), but he’d come to help Damian specifically anyway. Because he cared.

And it turned out he’d been as much of a mess as Damian had, but he'd forced himself to get up and deal with Damian too. It had taken him a while to understand how Timothy could have been as bad as he had, but then it hit him — he and Marinette had been best friends, and losing her had been just as much of a tragedy to him as it had been to Damian.

That was something.

And it was certainly an act to be respected.

Fortunately, they found him within the next few months, alive, because even Damian had admitted he missed Timothy and he wouldn’t be able to take it if more of his family died. Losing Marinette had been enough.

On the fifth anniversary of her death, the entire family got together to remember her. Damian had baked her favourite pastries, fraisiers, for everyone. He had needed to do it — after all, it was her who taught him to bake them.

Every one of them loved them. The children — Grayson’s, Todd’s and Thomas’, though no one really knew where Thomas had gotten his (none of them questioned it because they were too used to Father’s antics, at least he wasn’t training them to be vigilantes) — were just happy they got to eat sweets, though the older ones did notice the sad presence in all of them. That, and there was no way they didn’t know they gathered together to keep the memory of Damian’s late wife alive. It was certain that Todd’s children all knew a lot about the happened and knew that Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Wayne had been close with all of them, but Damian wasn’t sure if they understood why everyone was like that.

He could only barely see it from the blurriness in his own vision, but there were tears in Richard’s eyes that he refused to shed. Timothy just smiled that sad smile of his at the dessert and looked like he was talking to himself, but there wasn’t even a trace of tears in his expression. He was doing better.

“It will get better,” he had told Damian years ago. “Not now, and the developement is going to be slow, but it will.”

Maybe that was what had Timothy smile.

Damian didn’t know whether he should be happy for him or bitter.

He decided to be happy for him, because that was what he knew his beloved would have wanted.

Years went by and yet Damian never forgot about her. He knew he could never. He was finally getting better, he could go about his everyday life easily, though sometimes he needed to take a day off when the grief surfaced and he couldn't handle it anymore.

Somehow, Timothy seemed to always know when those days hit (Damian wouldn’t put it past him to have all their siblings and even Father looking after him and reporting his moods to Timothy), and every single time he was there at some point, either offering a listening ear or something to watch or food or just his presence, even if both of them worked on their own projects in silence.

But he got better, and the pain and grief born from losing her loosened their grip on him.

Through all the years, Damian carried a picture of Marinette along with him. He made sure her legacy would stay alive in some way, and ended up founding the Marinette Foundation that technically offered help for young artists and those bullied in school. In reality, they helped anyone they could, because that was what Marinette would’ve done.

Jon and Colin told him he was nothing like the boy they knew at some point, that he had changed, and they were proud of him. They said Marinette would be proud of him too. Damian, in turn, told them that they could thank Marinette when they met her in the life after this one and themselves for showing him the way (and Marinette for getting tired of his antics and shoving him down and onto said way because he refused to step onto it himself.)

Even on his deathbed decades later, he held a picture of Marinette in his hands, refusing to forget her no matter what.

Because after all, she was the reason he was still there.

“It's the one person who knew you and accepted you…”

Damian swallowed — damnit, an al Ghul did not swallow when nervous or anxious, that was a sign of weakness and he wasn’t weak — as Marinette stared him down. He had to consciously keep himself from shifting in place where he was sitting on his bed. Marinette was on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.

The lights in the room were rather dim, the brightest light source being the daylight that made its way into the room through the windows Alfred had had them clean a few days earlier. Something about them needing to know how to do it and being able to be outside the window relatively safely compared to Alfred himself.

He didn’t dare to say a word after his confession, simply waiting for Marinette to speak up. For her to say something, anything. He’d told her everything he could remember, even things he had never told anyone else, and her opinion on it mattered so much, regardless of what he wanted to convince himself of. Her opinion always weighed more than others’ at this point.

Eventually, she opened her mouth. “Alright, so tell me if I got it right. You were born to the daughter of the leader of the league of Assassins, you were raised to become one, you actually killed tens and tens of people, then you were taken to your father at the age of ten to distract him from his work as Batman, tried to kill Tim — my best friend — multiple times, and you never told me until now? After we’ve known each other for seven years and having dated for four of them?”

Usually, Damian could read Marinette easily, but now her face was blank, and the only thing he could hear in her voice was a hint of exasperation and anger. A hint. That meant she was hiding something huge, because his beloved was never this emotionless unless she was actively hiding something from him.

And that was something that had him swallow his pride and admit to himself that he was frightened about what that meant for him, for her, for them and their relationship. He had no idea.

He nodded, drawing out a slow “yes, that’s pretty much it summarised.”

Marinette sighed and ran a hand down his face. For a second, there was a flash of absolute fury and sorrow visible on her face, but then it was already gone. Damian wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he was rather sure that this meant the end of their relationship.

“I am so furious right now.”

“I understand that you’re furious with me. I did hide it from you for a long time. I just thought you deserved to know, even if it came later rather than sooner. Better late than never, isn’t it?”

Yet another sigh. “Damian, love, mon cœur, I am not furious at you. I am furious at your mother and I am furious at your grandfather and so many others, but not you. And yes, I deserved to know that my boyfriend has killed people, multiple of them at that, but I can see why you hid it from me for so long. When was the last time you killed anyone?”

“A bit after I became Robin.”

“Well then, it’s long since that happened. I can’t promise I won’t be a little uncomfortable around you for a while, but I’ll work on it. Your mother and grandfather took your childhood away and it isn’t your fault you became an assassin — you didn’t know any better. You were a child. You aren’t supposed to have to know how to be at that age, especially if you’ve only ever seen one way of living, if you’ve only ever been told that way of living is the correct one. Instead, I’m ready to break this family’s “No kill” rule and go do that to your mother and grandfather. You didn’t deserve all of that. No child does.”

There were tears in his eyes that were threatening to spill, and Damian needed to think about breathing in order to be able to do so.

“I— What is wrong with you? Why do you care so much about me?!” he began with a broken voice, his tone borderline hysterical, but Marinette interrupted him by putting a finger on his lips. She’d crossed the room fast.

“Because you’re my friend above all else. You’re the one I love, and there’s nothing that can change that.”

Damian’s breath came to a halt. Tears burned in his eyes and suddenly he felt like a scared child, clinging onto anything that could save him. Marinette smiled at him so gently, so reassuringly as she reached out to him. She was truly an angel bringing light to his life, being the light in the darkness that was his life. “But I— I killed—”

“Oh love, I don’t blame you, so please, don’t do that either. Children cannot be blamed for the actions of their parents, and they can’t be held responsible for something they did because their mother and grandfather told them to do so. It took, what, ten years before you were even told you were allowed to not kill people. There’s no way I could ever blame you.” Marinette pulled rather limp Damian into her arms and squeezed him, and both of them tried to ignore the tears that were now flowing down from their eyes. Marinette hid her face in Damian’s hair, keeping Damian within her embrace in the way he’d once (surprisingly) admitted felt safe to him, his face buried in her shirt. Marinette said nothing about the tears staining the piece of clothing.

She never would, not with her dearest. Especially not when he was like this.

Marinette wasn’t surprised in the least that Damian had come crashing down like this. Keeping something a secret from your loved ones was tiring. The bigger the secret and the longer you kept it, the bigger the consequences would be once you let go of it.

All she could do now was to be there for him and prove that she wasn’t going to leave, even if it took her a long time. He deserved that much.

Because after all, he deserved the world.

“Believed in you before anyone else did…”

Marinette bend over and put her face in her arms and knees, sitting on her bed. Her sketchbook lied on the other side of the room, some of its pages crumbled next to it. She had no idea what to do. The only thing that could be heard in the room were her heavy breathing and sobs, at least until someone was at the door.

That someone knocked on the door three times, each knock the slightest bit different. She didn’t want to see anyone right now, but the knocks already told him it was either Damian or Tim on the other side of the door. They were the only two she’d told about how to knock on her door to make sure she knows it’s one of them if they needed to talk to her and she reacted to no other means of contact.

So, reluctantly, she stood up and walked to the door, opening it to reveal Damian standing there, wearing a worried expression on his face. Marinette stepped aside and motioned for him to come in before closing the door behind the two of them.

“What is—” she began but was interrupted before she got any further.

“What happened, habibti?”

Marinette snapped her mouth shut. This was not what she was expecting. Damian sounded worried.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You don’t throw your sketchbook across the room and look like you’re about to cry when you are alright.”

That was enough to make her stop with the excuses. Damian had her figured out. She should have guessed. She swallowed, visibly deflated and dropped on the ground, hugging her knees. Damian was at her side within seconds.

“I just—” It was hard to talk about it and they fell into silence again. Damian put his hand on her shoulder hesitantly, as though he wasn’t sure if it was okay. As she didn’t move away or flinch at the touch, he just let it rest there. Marinette guessed he was trying his best at showing he was there by doing what he’d seen Tim and Dick do before.

“You can take your time, I am in no hurry,” he said, drawing a teary laugh out of her.

“Thanks, Dames.”

Marinette stared at the ground as she started speaking. “I— It’s just that I realised, I remembered that I didn’t want to be a designer, not to begin with. I do enjoy designing, it isn’t that, but… It’s kind of like video games. It was meant to be a hobby.”

“Why did you change your mind, then?”

“I think… I think it’s because of Mlle Bustier. She saw me designing clothes one day and she kept insisting I was good at it and telling me I should become a designer. I did tell her I didn’t want to, but she insisted I should become one for weeks, months, years. Eventually I— eventually I just thought that was what I wanted and should do, I guess.”

Damian growled, like, honest to god growled. “I am going to sue that disgusting, sorry excuse of a teacher,” he all but snarled, but didn’t go anywhere from where he was kneeling next to her.

“Please don’t. You don’t have any proof.”

“Tt. As you wish. At least she cannot do anything to you anymore as you’re now here. Then, what was it you wanted to do? Before that loathsome woman interfered, that is.”

Marinette smiled at him with teary eyes. “I wanted to be a baker, just like my parents. They loved their job and baking was so much fun. I loved trying new things and I always imagined how it would be to either take over our family bakery or start my own,” she said, chuckling. Then her smile disappeared from her face and she frowned a little. “But every time I mention this to someone now, they’re saying I shouldn’t abandon my “dream” of becoming a designer, that I don’t need to worry about whether I can make it. They think I’m just scared of whether my designs are good enough — I know they are — and I do want to do it as a side thing, but I… it’s not what I want from life. I want to be able to bake and make these amazing, wonderful creations and make people smile when they eat them!”

Damian reached his hands out to cup her face but hesitation made him jerk away. Why was he hesitating now? That was not something he usually did. But, when he watched her expressions carefully, the slightest bit of disappointment he could see on Marinette’s face had him reach out again and cup her face.

“Whatever it is you want to do, I support you, and I’m sure you’ll do great. If you want to be a baker and create a bakery, I say go for it. If it makes you happy, I want you to do it, and I’ll be there supporting you through every step of the way, if that pleases you.”

“Yes, it would. Thank you, Damian,” she said, and finally a smile graced her lips again. It was like it lit up the entire room, but Damian didn’t have long to think about it before Marinette had surged forwards and her lips were on his.

Just as soon as the kiss had started, it also ended. Marinette looked embarrassed and ashamed, letting her gaze fall to the side, averting Damian’s eyes. Her sudden movements had Damian lose his grasp on her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I simply—”

And then she was interrupted by Damian cupping her face once more, pulling her forwards and claiming her lips in turn. Marinette melted into it and traced her hands along his body up until they found their place on his shoulders and behind his neck. When they broke the kiss off, Marinette simply let herself go limp against Damian who held her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Perhaps she was.

“I meant that. I will always be here for you because I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

After all, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t fight the entire world for her.

“...or when no one else would.”

“Have I ever told you how I met one of my best friends, Damian Wayne?” Lila asked one day after school when they were all waiting for their lifts or friends on the school grounds. Alya immediately perked up and looked at her friend curiously. She already seemed ready to take out her phone and record Lila talking about it, but Lila simply laughed sweetly and told her that she needed to protect Damian’s privacy from the media. Alya understood and put her phone away.

Marinette mostly ignored it, still waiting for her lift — she didn’t like it when Lila lied about her friends, but as long as she wasn’t slandering their name, she had decided not to intervene because one, it’s not like her classmates would care, and two, why should she care about her ex-friends being lied to if they didn’t believe her when she said so? As long as Lila didn’t bully her or her ex-friends didn’t do it, she couldn’t care less.

“Alright, so it went like this. A few years ago, I was at the Wayne gala with my mother, when this woman spilled her drink on my dress. It was so unfortunate, I had gotten the dress from Prince Ali the last time I’d met him, and it was my favourite one,” Lila explained, making an effort to put shock and sadness in her voice, her expressions no doubt matching the story perfectly. Rose gasped in horror. Marinette was half-listening to the story, ready to start recording in case there was going to be any slander against any of her friends. After all, she would need proof if they wanted to take it to court.

“Oh girl, what happened then? Did she at least apologise and offer to get it cleaned up for you?” Alya asked, grabbing Lila by the shoulders. Marinette could almost imagine her concerned, angry face in her mind.

Marinette could find a slightly bitter taste in her mouth at the nickname but ignored it.

Lila tilted her head and furrowed her brows, looking away for a second as though she were sad. “No,” she sighed. “She was jealous about me and the beautiful dress I had. Then she smirked at me and tripped, ripping my dress. It couldn’t be repaired afterwards. The biggest problem was, when she— when she ripped my dress—”

Lila swallowed and stopped speaking and wiped a tear away from her eye before continuing. “When she ripped my dress, it revealed my undergarments, right there, in the middle of the gala,” she whispered. Marinette would be amazed at her acting skills because she sounded just like she were embarrassed for a second there if it wasn’t for the fact she didn’t like it when people lied.

“What happened then?” Mylène asked, holding her breath.

“Then Damian swooped in and shed his jacket quickly, giving it to me to be able to cover myself. Then he took me away from the ball and got me one of his sister’s dresses. He apologised that it wasn’t the same thing, but told me it was too unfortunate the woman had been like that. He then reassured me that his family would take her away so I could enjoy the rest of the gala. He still let me keep the jacket because I was cold.”

The girls around her cooed.

“Tell us more!”

“Well, alright,” Lila complied, looking like she didn’t want them asking more. Like hell she didn’t, she reveled in their attention. Lila Rossi loved the sound of her own voice more than she loved breathing. “So, a few days after that — as I hadn’t been able to find him at the end of the gala to be able to give his jacket back to him — I was walking outside using his jacket because it was so warm and that way I could return it to him or one of his family members should I see them there. The a dog ran past me without his owner. He clearly belonged to someone because he had a collar and he was groomed, but I couldn’t even see anyone running after him. So, obviously, I ran after the dog to catch him, hoping he had a name tag and the owner’s information so I could return him. It took me a while and my feet were so tired, but eventually I succeeded. That was about when I saw a young man running towards me. The dog visibly brightened and started wagging his tail just as when I was trying to check the nametag, so I guessed it was the owner.”

“Who was it, then?”

“Ooh, was it Damian?”

“Yes! It was indeed Damian! His dog had run away! He was so kind to me because I found his dog and thanked me so many times for it. He asked me if I wanted to come for a walk with him and his dog who was so sweet the entire time. It was so wonderful talking with him — he’s a great conversationalist!” Marinette did agree with her there. “Then I gave him his jacket back and he gave me his number so we could keep in contact. We kept talking even after I returned to Italy and he’s one of my dearest friends!”

Well, Lila had said nothing problematic about Damian or any of the other Wayne family members, so Marinette decided she couldn’t bother to get involved in it. At least she’d done her research for once, because while there were things you could check on the internet, it would be much harder unless you knew exactly where to look and who to ask.

Marinette pulled out her phone to call Tim as he was supposed to fetch her from school with Alfred. Tim was her best friend and they were going to take her to the States for the next few weeks so she could get a break from school and all the stress surrounding it. Well. She was going to go to school with Damian in Gotham to make sure she didn’t fall behind, but it wasn’t like it was the schoolwork stressing her out. It was Lila and all her lies and the lack of anyone she could talk to or rely on. In Gotham, none of those things would be a problem.

But, instead of Tim walking up to her, she got Tim and Damian, both heading straight her way. Once she got over her surprise, she smiled brightly and waved at them before running towards Tim and hugging him. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly.

“I’m so glad that you’re coming over for the next few weeks, Cupcake! There’s so much I want to show you. Did I already mention that Lucius and Tam are both looking forward to seeing you at the office during your stay? Because they totally are. They want to show you around the company. You can’t let them down. Bart and Kon mentioned wanting to see you at some point during the week too.”

Marinette laughed and wriggled out of Tim’s grasp. “I’ll make sure I’ll have time for all of them. I do need to set time aside for you especially, but I’m reserving Dames for myself for at least a few days,” she told the two boys and smiled at Damian. She still wasn’t too close with him so she tried to keep away from hugging him or tried to keep the touch contact at minimum because he always seemed so uncomfortable with the rest of the family showing their affection by hugs or ruffling his hair and so on. She didn’t want to do it to him.

(So what if a bit of it was because she had the tiniest crush on him and didn’t want to ruin her relationship with him before she even had any kind of a chance.)

“Oh, Marinette, who’s your friend? Your boyfriend? Or boyfriends?” Lila asked with the slightest smirk hidden behind her smile, the tone of her voice sounding the slightest bit scandalised at the idea of multiple boyfriends. It seemed everyone else caught it too and with wide eyes, stared at Marinette. Marinette scowled, hoping Tim and Damian didn’t catch the mood change in the air.

A pointless wish because both were children of Bruce Wayne and raised by the greatest detective in the world, but a wish nonetheless.

“This is my best friend, Tim, and this is his little brother and also my dear friend, Dames,” she replied, gritting her teeth a little.

“Oh no, your best friend? Isn’t Alya your best friend?”

That drew the attention of the entire class still present to them. They smelled drama and they wanted to see it.

“No,” Marinette said coolly, pressing her nails into the skin of her palm to keep herself calm and grounded. Tim seemed to notice it and put a hand on her arm, rubbing circles on it with his thumb. “Alya was my best friend until she decided to believe you over me. We grew apart.”

“God, Marinette, this ploy of yours isn’t going to work. You’re still my friend, but I’m also friends with Lila! I don’t get where this jealousy and need to have people for yourself is coming from! Are you still mad that Adrien doesn’t like you as much as he likes Lila?”

Marinette inhaled deep. “I don’t even like Adrien anymore. I haven’t liked him in months! I’m not jealous, it’s that you all keep believing and choosing Lila — a girl you’ve known for a year or so — over me, someone some of you have known since we were in diapers! Have I ever lied to any of you? Proved you couldn’t trust me? Anything that could justify any of this?”

She was so irritated and done with them. They weren’t bullying her, but honestly, she would have preferred it over them saying they were still friends before doing a complete 180° and deciding to choose Lila over her every. Single. Time. Not once had they chosen her over Lila since she came into the picture permanently.

“Like hell you don’t like Adrien. You just told me over the phone you do!”

“Alya, we haven’t spoken over the phone in ages.”

That stopped Alya. She swallowed, pulled out her phone and frantically looked through it before paling.

“Well?” Marinette inquired. She knew perfectly well it had been a long time since because both of them were just “so busy” all the time.

“It’s— it’s been half a year since…” Alya choked out. Marinette settled for an expression and an arch of a brow that told her I told you so.

“Well then, that’s settled. Can we go now? I’d like to see the rest of the family as soon as possible,” Marinette said, already turning on her heel when Lila decided she needed to have the last word in. At least she had the good idea of speaking in French because every time Marinette spoke to the two boys, it was in English. Obviously, both of them knew at least some French as she used it around the Manor and they sometimes replied to her, but still. It wasn’t like Lila knew.

“Where are you even going? It’s the middle of the school year. There can’t be any good reason as to why you’re leaving now. It’s not like you’re good enough to just not be here.”

“I am leaving because of stress, not that it actually was any of your concern, and my schoolwork is doing just fine, thank you very much.”

“I haven’t even seen you study, you’re quiet in class — in fact, it seems like all you do is draw while you should focus on what Mlle Bustier is teaching us.”

Marinette sighed. She didn’t want to have to deal with this.

The others in class spoke up too, all of them spouting out similar “facts” that actually weren’t true. Marinette could feel tears burning in her eyes and the choking feeling in her throat was just too present, but she couldn’t do anything about it. Tim looked ready to go full Red Robin on them, but just before he opened his mouth, Damian was already in front of them and at it. Tim returned to Marinette’s side, rubbing comforting circles on her shoulders and arms, wiping her tears away.

“I’m not certain if any of you imbeciles have ears. She told you, her schoolwork is excellent. I have seen her grades, Father has seen her grades, her parents have seen her grades, Drake has seen them, and all of us have decided that it is of no problem for her to come with us. And if any of you were the friends you say you are, then you would not question this and be happy for her and trust she knows what she is doing. If none of you are able to do that simple thing, then I deem all of you unworthy of her,” he said, in perfect French, his tone of voice clearly telling them all his word was final. Some of the students paled and backed off when they caught it and understood there was no way for them out of this.

It seemed Lila didn’t.

“Who are you supposed to be? I’ll have you know, I’m the daughter of an ambassador, you can’t speak to me like that.”

“Oh, so you are the liar Malaki has mentioned every now and then.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Well, to say what Jason would love to if he were here, I ain’t calling you a truther,” Tim chimed in, a smile on his face, though none of the others could see it as he was still focused on making sure Marinette was okay. Marinette’s snort mixed with her choked sob as she held onto Tim, watching the exchange take place in front of them.

Marinette could have cried out of joy. Her friends — these friends — were actually there for her and didn’t let her deal with all of it alone. And Damian, well. He believed in her. He didn’t doubt her words for a second about a liar and then the moment he met Lila, he stood with Marinette and didn’t let Lila’s sweet, sugary, false words change his mind.

It mattered more to her than she knew how to explain.

The glare he had on his face, directed at Lila and the rest of them, was definitely the perfect blend of Damian al Ghul Wayne and Robin. It was something all the Bats learnt from Bruce and Batman, but Damian had perfected it and turned it into something of his own. Marinette was glad she was never on the receiving end of it. The faintest ghost of a smile crept on her lips as she watched everything unravel in front of her very eyes.

“Wait. Aren’t you— Lila, do you not recognise him?”

That was Alya.

“Why should I?”

Lila.

“Because that right there is Damian Wayne and you were just telling us about how you met him.”

“According to the internet and my various sources, the two people with Marinette Dupain-Cheng are Damian Wayne and Timothy Drake-Wayne.”

Max and Markov.

“I can’t believe this is how you fall, Rossi. You don’t recognise your so called best friend? You definitely dug yourself into a deep hole. It’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.”

And Chloé.

That was all the rest of them needed to pull out their phones and start looking up the rest of the things — thoroughly — that Lila had claimed to be true. It didn’t take too long before Markov and Max started listing off things Lila had lied about.

Damian smirked and turned away, clearly satisfied with how things turned out. He led Marinette to the car with Tim, and once they were inside and had said hi to Alfred and apologised for how long it took, he turned to Marinette and actually, genuinely smiled at her.

“Remember, Malaki, you don’t need to do everything on your own. If anyone ever dares to disrespect you like that again or doesn’t believe you when you’re telling the truth, you can trust that I will be there if you need assistance. I will always be there when you need me. Asking for assistance isn’t a sign of weakness.  Besides, isn’t that what Grayson always tries to remind us all of? That ‘asking for help and helping is what family does’, that ‘admitting to your flaws or not being able to do everything alone doesn’t mean a lack of strength’.”

“I agree with him, for once. We all care about you and you’re family. You could never be a bother. You can rely on us.”

Marinette wiped a tear out of her eye and smiled back. “You’re right. Thank you, Dami. For everything. You too, Timmers.” She grabbed the hands of both her friends and squeezed them, completely ignoring the warmth on her cheeks as Damian gave her a light squeeze back.

She would be fine.

Because after all, he wasn’t about to leave her fending for herself.

“And no matter what happens...”

“I’ll go with you.”

Marinette’s tone indicated her words were meant to be taken as final, but Damian wasn’t having it. He was not about to let his wife come with him to take down the League of Assassins for good because it wasn’t safe at all. That was the one fight where he wouldn’t be able to protect her because he’d be too caught up with fighting those who had gotten training nearly as good and tough as his. His beloved, as good as she was, was not comparable to the League because her training had been so different. His mother would be there, no doubt. Even if she liked Marinette, Mother was not above using her son’s wife against him if she thought it would work in her favour.

“No. You aren’t coming. I don’t want you to die there.”

Marinette groaned and threw a pillow at him with way too much force. It didn’t hurt — it was a pillow, after all—, but it did surprise him.

“Damian, ma raison de vivre, I will come with you. There’s no way I’ll be able to go on if you’re gone, so I will come and make sure you don’t die,” she snapped at him, scowling. It was a rare thing to see on her face.

“You are the one who needs to live if it comes down to that. The world and the family needs you more than they need me, habibti. I—” He was interrupted before he got any further.

“No! Don’t you dare start that! You are my — ugh, what’s the English term… whatever, let’s go with French — ma raison d’être and there’s no way I’m letting you die either! You aren’t disposable, you aren’t someone that I — or the family — can lose! I don’t care what it takes, and if I have to follow you from the shadows, hidden from you, to be able to come along, then that’s what I will do,” Marinette said, snarling.

“But this is the League of Assassins, they are there to kill. I might have to resort to that as well, if nothing else works. I will try not to for you, of course, but the chance still exists. They will definitely try to kill me, and if you’re there, you as well.”

“You know what, I’m coming and I’m telling the family of this as well. They won’t let you go alone either. None of us want you to die.”

She had already pulled out her phone and dialed someone by the time Damian had noticed and tried to stop her. It was too late.

“Fine,” he huffed and sat down at the table, watching as Marinette argued with someone on the phone until she finally put her phone away with a smug smile on her face.

“Tim said he’s coming, I reminded Bruce that he wouldn’t want to lose yet another son — especially not for the second time, yes, I know you died like fifteen years ago — so he’s in as well, Dick was in before I even finished trying to convince him, and Jason is coming as well because he cares about you all and wants to be there to protect you even if he’s horrible at saying it out loud.”

“I know.”

“Cass, Steph, Duke and Babs are in as well. So, you know, the whole family is going to be there. I’m pretty sure Jon and Colin would want to help as well if I asked.”

Marinette walked around the table to him, and slid her arms around him. “Dames, whatever happens, I will be there by your side, just like you told you’d be by my side. It goes both ways, love.” She pressed a kiss to his hair and took his hands in her own. “We are going to be fine, I promise. After all, you’re my other half, you complete me, and that means we’re going to survive and get through this as well.”

The day to fight came, and all the kwamii were tired, so Marinette wore kevlar, just like the rest of them. She smiled at him, holding his hand and chuckled, saying they matched. Damian smiled back and tucked some loose strands behind her ear. Yeah, just like his beloved said, they were going to be alright.

Because after all, they worked together better than any oiled machine.

“You will always love them.”

Those were the words he told her in front of both their families, their friends, but Damian couldn’t care less about them. All that mattered to him was that his angel was there, his angel had promised to give all of herself to him for the rest of their lives, until death do them part. In return, he gave her all that he was, all that he had, and he would never leave her side if it was up to him to decide.

He took her hands in his before bringing them up to kiss her fingers. Marinette laughed, the sound of it like music in his ears. It was the most beautiful sound in the world to him. The red of her dress was elegant and brought out her appearance’s best qualities, it made her eyes shine. The golden accents

When the “You may kiss the bride” came, he lifted her up by her waist, twirled them around and placed her back on the ground before he pressed a delicate kiss on her lips. It made her smile, and Damian was certain she could compete with the Sun itself for the place of the brightest and most beautiful thing in the world and win.

When they finally turned to face their closest people present, they were both smiling and happier than ever. Grayson cheered in the front row, Todd had a grin on his face, Father was smiling at them with such pride in his eyes, and Drake… Oh yeah, he was Marinette’s Man of Honor, so he wasn’t with the rest of the family — he had been standing at the side on Marinette’s side, with Brown, Tsurugi and Cain, who were her bridesmaids, and Couffaine, her bridesman, all standing behind him. Damian had given Colin and Jon the honour of being his Best Men (because he simply refused to choose only one of them.) Right now, Drake looked ready to run to Marinette and hug and congratulate her, but decided against it because he knew it was her and Damian’s day, and the right to be there by her side at the ceremony was Damian’s.

(It was clear he was going to spend as much time as possible with her at the wedding reception, though. Damian had no problem with that — his wife should be able to be with her friends, especially her best friend, as long as she didn’t forget him. He knew she wouldn’t. There was a reason she’d married him.)

Marinette smiled at him and gave his cheek a quick peck as they intertwined their fingers and walked down the aisle. It was strange and oh so wonderful how this amazing young woman had decided she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, no matter what kind of a person he had been, no matter how many other suitable people that liked her were there, no matter how difficult life together would be because of how stubborn both of them were — she still had chosen him over everyone and everything else, and Damian would be damned if he didn’t treat her with all the respect she deserved and make her as happy as ever possible.

Because after all, if soulmates existed, she was definitely his.

“Nothing can ever change that.”

A woman perks up as she hears someone call her name, seeing the black hair and the tan skin of the one she’s always loved. The one she’s loved since the day she saw him and until the day her heartbeats ceased and even beyond death. The one she had loved, the one she still loves, the one she will always love. He’s standing there, shocked, tears in his eyes, but there’s so much adoration and love in his eyes that she doesn't even know how to react. Then she rushes to her feet and runs to him, throwing herself at him because it’s been too long since the day we lost each other.

Her treasure got to live a life decades longer than her own, he got to grow old, but she can’t find it in herself to be bitter about it — he always deserved to live a long life, and besides, even though she would have tried to be happy for him if it had happened, he never fell in love again or remarried after she was taken away from him. He’d stayed hers and hers only until death, and now they’re back together, finally. Even if it took nearly seven entire decades of separation first.

Basking in the warmth of sunlight, the young woman with black hair leans against the young man just about her age, his hair just as black as hers. He wraps his arms around her shoulders tightly and presses her against his chest, more than grateful he can hold her again after being separated for so very long. She chuckles and tilts her head backwards so he can give her a kiss on her forehead more easily.

The rest of the world no longer matters. It’s no longer “as though it doesn’t matter”, because now it is “it doesn’t matter”. They have both lived and they have both died, and now that they’re together again, they don’t need to care about the world. It isn’t like they can affect it anymore either.

They intertwine their fingers, a gesture that brings both of them comfort, a gesture that has brought both of them comfort for decades now, and they watch the sun set down below in the world they can only see as outsiders anymore. Even so, the sunset paints the world in warm tones, and the peaceful tones of red, orange and yellow fill their vision.

Their time is no longer limited, for they’ve found one another in the life beyond. They are together again, and that is all that matters to them. Their family is there as well, all of them are waiting to see them, and that’s why they don’t need to worry anymore.

The young woman stands up and offers her hand to the man, and the man takes it, letting the woman pull him to his feet. She cups his face and pulls him down to a kiss, smiling into it as she murmurs her confessions of love to him in all the languages she knows and even the languages she doesn’t. In return, he tells her how she is all that he needs, how she changed his life, and how he will keep his promise of staying by her side until the end of time in all the languages that have ever existed and even the languages that don’t yet exist.

After all,  to one another, the two of them were everything.

Because what’s a soulmate, if not the one person you love more than anything, the one person your life would crash without, the one person that gives you strength in the darkest of times even when they aren’t there, if not the one you choose to love until you run out of air to breathe and until your heart ceases to beat?

What’s a soulmate, if not the one who will keep coming back to you over and over again, no matter what happens, until the end of time and will find you even beyond death?

________

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life

_________

Did you find the only two connected scenes in this one because there's totally one scene that leads straight to another (and as the fic isn't in chronological order, the two scenes aren't either, it’s easy but not that easy.)

If you guess what were my favourite scenes to write or tell me what were yours to read, I'll give you a cookie.

[yoon-kooks]

Witch Hazel- Pt.6

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

A/N: i’ve had mixed feelings about the tumblr fic community as of late :/ but heres something to read🥺

-

Holding the boy’s pinky in your own, you stare once more at his drawing of you with your guitar and flower crown—a superhero to those whom you shared your music with.

No. Your music hasn’t saved anyone. You’ve never been a hero to anyone. If anything, you’re the one who needs to be saved. You’d always thought you could grow strong enough to save yourself if you just closed yourself off from the world and did everything on your own. But in the end, that only seemed to hurt you more.

You should’ve known. It’s okay to ask for help, to reach out, to let him in.

“A few years ago, I had a thought. It wasn’t a very smart thought, but I decided I wanted to share part of myself with the world. I thought about the different ways I could go about that, but the way that made the most sense for me was music,” you say, finally letting go of Jungkook’s pinky and making yourself awfully comfortable on a bed that doesn’t belong to you. “So I auditioned for Polar Entertainment. Not to be an idol, but to be a songwriter.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, but he nods as if it’s not a shock to him, as if he saw it as “a Y/N thing to do.” At the same time, his gentle eyes wait for you to continue, curious to know what’ll happen next.

“Do you remember the song you heard me singing the other day in the music room?”

Jungkook cracks a smirk and starts singing your song word for word in a surprisingly in-tune whisper. Oh, he remembers it alright, and he’ll apparently never let you live it down. He doesn’t stop until you throw one of the balled-up blankets at his face.

“That was the first time I picked up my guitar and sang that song since being rejected at the audition.”

“I can imagine how scarring that would be. Rejection,” he shudders at the word, though you’re sure he knows little about the feeling with art skills as professional as his. “They really didn’t like you though?”

“They liked certain parts of me.” Your vocals, your beauty, your body. “But not the ones that mattered.” Your music, your creativity, your personality. You.

“That’s their loss,” Jungkook says in the midst of a yawn, practically inaudible. But you heard him.

“Maybe they had a point,” you say, looking up at the ceiling. “Because when I look back to that time, it was quite foolish of me to believe my music would reach anyone when it came from a place of desperation, not my heart. The song was a plea for help, not one that would save others.”

“What made you suddenly sing it again after all this time?”

You grab hold of the boy’s hand and form yet another pinky promise. “Promise you won’t laugh at me for my reason.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he says with the straightest face. He’s ready to burst out laughing again and you know it.

“Then I won’t tell you.” With a hmph, you bury yourself under the fluffiest blanket. You wonder how he would’ve reacted if you told him it was that dang jk.seagull and his fanfic that gave you the courage to sing again, to go back to your roots, to follow your love of creating music. It’d obviously sound ridiculous to admit it out loud, but the joy you feel from reading Witch Hazel is what reminds you of the very thing you want to provide others with—happiness.

And that’s perhaps all the encouragement you needed to start sharing your music again.

“I won’t tell you what it was exactly that made me do it, but I’ll tell you why,” you peek your head back out of the blankets to see the boy still waiting patiently for an answer. “I wanted to move on… from the failure I faced that day. That way, I can finally become that superhero you speak of.”

You place the drawing of your superhero self onto the nightstand so that it doesn’t get crinkled up on the bed. No, she’s not a superhero yet. But she will be someday.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“You better not tell anyone,” you remind him. “This isn’t something I share with other people. Ever.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he assures you, with not only his words but also his warmth.

“Good.” You smile whilst closing your eyes. You meant to tell him that he could confide in you too, but the warmth pulls you into a deep slumber before you could do so.

-

It’s been a minute since you’ve awoken in someone else’s bed, though this is the first time you aren’t all wrapped up in their embrace. Rather, half the boy’s body is hanging off the side of the bed for dear life while you’re right smack in the middle, all bundled up in one of the blankets.

If you wanted to, you could push him over the edge with the tiniest tap of your foot—that’s how close he is to falling. But as tempting as it would be to get even with the boy who teases you to no end, you opt to quietly check your phone without disturbing him.

To your surprise, you have two new notifications: a text from Seokjin earlier this morning and a late-night update from jk.seagull posted sometime after you had passed out. You’ve always been the type to take care of work obligations before indulging in guilty pleasures, so you open Seokjin’s text first.

6:04AM jinnie “so jimin’s manager reached out to me”

6:05AM jinnie “and you want to collab with jimin?”

7:12AM Y/N “oh yeah i asked him to have his manager contact you”

7:13AM Y/N “but i guess i forgot to tell you LOL”

It’s not that you forgot. You were just hesitant to tell your manager about it yourself. Because if possible, you’d like to minimize your own company’s involvement in this top-secret scheme of yours.

7:15AM jinnie “are you up to something?”

7:15AM Y/N “mayhaps”

7:16AM Y/N “but dont tell boss lady pls”

7:17AM jinnie “shes going to find out one way or another”

7:19AM Y/N “thats true 🤔 ”

7:20AM Y/N “well tbh knowing her, she’d probably approve of the collab anyway since it should clear up those dating rumors while (hopefully) appealing to jimin’s fanbase”

7:21AM Y/N “just dont tell her the logistics of the collab”

7:21AM jinnie “what are you scheming lmao”

7:22AM Y/N “youll see”

7:22AM jinnie “ 😒 dont get me or yourself in trouble Y/N”

7:23AM Y/N “i wont! i promise! 🥺 ”

7:24AM jinnie “okay fine”

7:25AM jinnie “ill arrange a meeting with jimin and his manager to discuss everything formally”

As you move on to the more exciting notification on your phone, you see that the sleeping Jungkook has slipped several inches closer to falling flat on his face. Maybe you’ll save him from his impending doom. Maybe you won’t. But that’ll have to wait until after you see what jk.seagull had to say on his blog.

“do you ever think back to that one time in math camp when a little girl screamed in your face that she hated math and wanted to become a musician instead? apparently she somehow confused ‘musician’ with ‘mathematician’ LMAO”

You aren’t sure what provoked the silly seagull guy to share such a random thought, but you do get a good laugh out of it. After all, you can totally relate as someone who went to math camp one summer despite knowing in your heart what you truly wanted to do-

Wait.

“Jungkook,” you say in a half-hushed, half-urgent tone, though calling his name wouldn’t be what actually wakes him from his slumber. “I think I know who the seagull guy is.”

Thud. You swear on your life you didn’t lay a finger on the boy when he fell, despite all the devilish thoughts you had about it earlier. He fell on his own. You’re innocent. Therefore, you have a right to laugh.

“Are you okay?” you snicker, peering down from the bed at the dazed boy. He might have been the biggest klutz for rolling off the bed and stumbling around to find his glasses, but holy shit. His wild bedhead and scattered blankets across the floor make it seem as though the two of you had a lot more than just an innocent heart-to-heart in his bed last night.

“I’m fine,” he stretches his arms and combs the bedhead out. Yes, he is fine. “But, uhh, what’s this about that seagull guy?”

“I think I know him.” You expect Jungkook to be as excited as you are, but he just seems kind of puzzled—perhaps from his lack of sleep.

“…and how did you come to that conclusion…?” he asks. Or maybe he doesn’t believe you.

“You didn’t see the post! Look at the post.” You join the boy down on the floor and make yourself at home there with your phone and some of the fallen blankets. He leans over your shoulder to read the infamous post you won’t shut up about.

“Math camp?” Jungkook continues to squint at the cryptic message before chuckling. “Also, did that girl seriously confuse musician with mathematician?”

“Stop laughing! That dumbass was me.” Now you wish you had kicked his ass off the bed.

He stops laughing, not because you told him to but because he’s mildly shook. “What?”

You take a deep breath in because you know you’re setting yourself up to be clowned for the rest of your fucking life. “When I was like ten, I told my parents that I wanted to be a mathematician, thinking that word meant musician. So they signed me up for camp that summer.”

“Did you ever stop to think that mathematician has the word math in it and not mu-”

You interrupt the boy’s unwelcomed commentary with an air-punch to his guts before continuing on as if nothing happened. “I was so excited until I got there. It was absolutely mortifying to learn that it was a math camp, not a music camp.”

“I like this story,” he nods with his arms guarding himself in anticipation of another air-jab as you square up.

“Still, I tried to make the best out of the situation since I was actually kind of good at math,” you say. “The camp director even told me I’d make a great math professor one day.”

“I can’t imagine you as a math professor.” He settles down with all the chuckling.

“I couldn’t either, so I ran off to an empty room where I thought I could escape without anyone finding me,” you soften your tone. “But somehow a crying, wandering boy found me.”

“Was it the seagull?”

“Maybe. All I remember was hearing music playing from somewhere outside. I sang along as a way to comfort and distract myself from the whole math situation, but it seemed to cheer up the boy as well.”

“Your voice does have that effect, you know.”

“He told me the same thing.” You can’t help but smile a little at the compliment. “But in that moment, it felt like my dream had a purpose beyond fueling my own desires. And I needed to share it with someone. Anyone.”

“So you shared it with the boy?”

You nod. “I told him my dream was to be a mathematician, but he knew what I meant.”

“Did he at least clown you first?”

“He did. He laughed right in my face, and at first I thought he was a jerk for making fun of my dream. But after he kindly taught me the difference between musician and mathematician, I announced my actual dream to him and him alone.”

“And how’d he respond?”

“He said it was cool beans.”

“He said cool beans?”

“Those were his exact words, yes.”

“And that was it?”

“That’s all I can remember.”

“So you don’t even remember his name or anything?”

“We never introduced ourselves,” you shake your head. “I don’t remember his face either because it was covered by a hood and long hair.”

“That’s too bad,” Jungkook sighs. “I bet it really was that seagull guy after all.”

“I have a feeling it was him, too.”

It would be nice and awfully romantic if you had somehow crossed paths long ago with the very seagull who continues to inspire your craft with his own. But even if that isn’t the case, you’re content with having that memory and entrusting it with another boy who has done nothing but lift you up.

You lean yourself gently against the Jungkook’s shoulder as you slip your phone back into your pocket, debating on your next course of action. The two of you should be getting ready for class, but that doesn’t sound very appealing. There are other things you’d much rather be doing, like maybe thanking the boy for lending his ear. But for some reason, it’s still difficult for you to say those two simple words of gratitude.

Perhaps it’s difficult because there’s a lot more you’d say than just “thanks man.”

“Can we just cut class and get coffee instead?” Yes, you’ll thank him for his service by treating him to coffee. Unless…? What if this is just your subtle way of asking the boy out on a date? What if he says no because you’ve already spent way too much time with him in the past 24 hours? What if he hates coffee? What if he-

“We should probably go to class to turn in our project, yeah?” Jungkook brings up a good point. But the thing is, you don’t really have your priorities straight at the moment and your mind has only two things consuming it: coffee and boy. “But we can get coffee after class.”

“Ooh, good, because there’s this one coffee shop I want you to try!” You chirp up despite your nonexistent dose of morning caffeine. “It’ll be my treat as thanks for… letting me hog your bed.”

“Oh right... that,” Jungkook hops to his feet and starts tidying up said bed. You help by picking up and folding all of the blankets. “I nearly froze and fell to my death because of that, you know.”

“I saw,” you bite your lip, trying to mask any naughty thoughts that come to mind. Because next time, if there is in fact a next time, you won’t let the boy freeze.

-

By the time art class ends, the weight of the dreaded group project has been lifted and your craving for coffee begins to settle in once more. And apparently, the hunger and excitement is radiating off you because someone has the audacity to make a comment about it.

“Why does your face look like that?” Taehyung teases, but you’re mildly offended.

“Because I’m getting coffee from my favorite café. That’s why,” you hiss but there’s still a hidden glow about you and your excitement. “Coffee is to me as girls are to you, Taehyung.”

“Ooh, speaking of girls, do any cute girls work there?” He strokes his wise man beard. “Maybe I’ll tag along.”

“I don’t fucking know.” And even if you did know, you wouldn’t say yes.

“How boring,” he yawns while nudging the boy next to him. “Hey Jungkook, wanna go on a double date with me? I met a pair of gamer girls, but I don’t know all the nerdy gaming stuff that you know. And think about it, this could be the first time you get laid since-”

“Actually, Jungkook’s getting coffee with me,” you interrupt. And if you had been brave enough to look up at the boy as you spoke, you would have seen the healthy pink radiance on his cheeks.

“Oh, so the two of you are dating all of a sudden?” Taehyung nods, as if he had hit the mark.

Neither you or Jungkook give an immediate answer, probably due to the unspoken yet very apparent shift in dynamics between the two of you as of late. Yes, you’ve developed certain feelings for the boy, but no, you aren’t technically “dating.” You just hope he’s on the same page as you.

“It’s just coffee,” you want to say, but it comes out of Jungkook’s mouth instead. And even though you would’ve said the same exact thing, it hits a little different hearing it from him.

At the same time, coffee is coffee and Jungkook is Jungkook. You need to remind yourself that your craving for coffee with the boy will be satisfied, regardless of whether it’s a date or not. After all, “dating” is not an option for an idol who should only be focusing on her music and fans.

“Which drink would you recommend?” Jungkook asks as you lead him in the direction of the café.

“If you like coffee, all of the drinks are good in my humble opinion,” you say, though you realize you should probably give the boy a few specific suggestions to make his decision a little easier. “You can get a standard mocha or latte if you want something simple. Or, their signature hazelnut coffee is really really good. Or if you want something iced, you should try the cold brew because it’s literally the most refreshing dose of caffeine ever. Oh! But if you’re into something more plant-based, I suggest the maple oat-”

“You’re not narrowing down my options if you recommend the entire menu, Y/N,” the boy chuckles at your coffee enthusiast behavior.

“Well, here’s my thought process: if we go at least once a week after class, you can eventually try every drink on the menu by the end of the school year. Not including all the different types of milk options though.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified that you even bothered to do that calculation.” His eyes are bigger and brighter than the sun. “But that must mean you really like coffee then, huh?”

“Of course! Is that even a question?” The snobby coffee enthusiast jumped out real quick. But even beyond the coffee, you did the calculation to see how long your little coffee not-dates with the boy could last before you have to return to your idol obligations. “You like coffee too, right?”

“Not really,” he sighs. Your jaw drops. Who the does he think he is? “Are there any tea options? Or like a banana milk or something?”

“You can’t just walk into a coffee shop and not order coffee.” Is this guy for real? No, he’s just fucking with you. Probably. “I better start reevaluating who I hang out with,” you say with a sarcastic hmph.

“I’m kidding, kind of.” He doesn’t do a very good job of reassuring you of that. “I like… coffee.”

“That hesitant pause doesn’t sit well with me, Jeon.” You raise an eyebrow at the suspicious boy. It feels nice to tease him for once. “Why are you grabbing coffee with me if you don’t love it?”

“I just curious about this coffee place,” he nudges you, “since someone seems to really enjoy it.”

So it’s because of you…

“Good to know I’ve successfully peer pressured you into consuming caffeine,” you hum, playing it off as if his words weren’t absorbed right into your heart. It was never about coffee.

It’s about you and him.

The thought of that makes your heart scream a little, so you hide your flustered face behind your phone as the two of you approach the coffee shop. You have an unread text from your manager.

2:35PM jinnie “good news”

2:36PM jinnie “i set up a meeting with jimin and his manager in an hour”

You stop in your tracks. That’s not good news. Well actually, it is good for your top secret collab. But the timing of it all is anything but good.

“Are you searching up the menu online? Oh wait, you already have the entire menu memorized from A to Z.” He thinks he’s funny. Now is not the time, Jeon. His teasing smile doesn’t disappear until the distress is written all over your face.

How do you cancel a not-a-date date without a proper explanation? How can you do that to a boy who has only ever done you right? The thing is, you don’t have to hurt him.

You can cancel the meeting, you can bail out on the collab, you can disappear from the idol world altogether if you choose to do so. And if you didn’t want to go that far, you could instead tell the boy of your deepest and darkest secret, of your idol identity, and he would surely understand your reasons for having to leave so suddenly for work.

You could do any of those things, but you decide not to. You won’t allow yourself to make such a rash decision, even if it’s the right one. So you decide to keep the meeting, you decide to keep your idol self hidden in the shadows, and you decide to abandon the boy.

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Sixteen: Perfect

A/N: Hi, friends! You want some wholesome content of a wholesome family in a not so wholesome business? Here. You can have this.

Look at her…She’s absolutely perfect. I know I hold her on too high of a pedestal, but I don’t care. If that’s the risk we’re taking, I’ll make sure to catch her if she ever falls. All it took was one word and she was mine. She is mine. A girl like Vanessa doesn’t come along every day. And a girl like Vanessa sure as fuck doesn’t come along every day for someone like me. When she told me all I needed to do was say the word, I made myself a promise right then and there that I’d do everything in my power to keep this girl in my life. She was mine. And I was hers. And that was all that mattered anymore.

Although, there is some bullshit line about all good things coming to an end that came into play. I didn’t want to do it. When we stood at her front door, I did not want to let this girl go back into that house. I wanted to take her by the hand and take her away from the hell that awaited her inside. I wanted to run off into the sunset with her and never look back. But unfortunately…I may not be able to get everything I want, but I had her. She’s enough to be my everything.

“Hey, Frankie,” Vanessa nuzzled her face in my shoulder, “What time does the Old Man let you go at night?”

“Around midnight,” I told her, “Maybe one o’clock if we run a little late. I don’t think my office hours are very set in stone. But if I’m not there by eight, he has my ass handed to me. Why?”

“Because,” she hugged me tight, “I want to know when I’ll be able to see you again.”

“You know where I live,” I kissed her forehead, “And you know you are welcome anytime. If Mama gushing over you is any proof of that.��

“And you know where I live,” Vanessa hid a little smile from me. Oh, no, no, no, sweetheart. We don’t play like that here.

“That’s right,” I pulled her chin up and gave her a quick little kiss. Just enough, “I’ll call you tomorrow night.”

“Nine o’clock?” she hoped.

“Nine o’clock,” I promised, “Good night, Vanessa.”

“Good night,” Vanessa didn’t want to let go either, but unfortunately, we needed to wake up from our daydreams some time.

“Hey,” I stopped her, “Kiss the little one for me, too.”

“I will.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I just scored a few more brownie points with her. What can I say? Veronica scared the shit out of me and I wanted to make sure she was doing ok.

I got into the back of the Old Man’s town car and started heading home. As I watched the streetlights pass by in the window, I couldn’t help myself. I had one of the most incredible people I have ever had the honor and privilege of knowing, waiting for my phone call tomorrow night. And genuinely excited for it. Sometimes, I think back and wonder what would’ve happened that night if I would’ve stoned up and talked to her at the bar. If I would’ve bought her a couple drinks and sat down with her instead of choking horribly. Would we still be the same? It couldn’t be too much different. She still would’ve had her sister watching her. She still would’ve slipped that note in my pocket.

Still…It’s amazing to think about. Her number could’ve fallen out of my pocket. Instead of going up to me, she could’ve gone up to Tony or César. Hell, when César talked me up to her, she could’ve fallen for his charms and I’d end up losing her. But for whatever reason that night, she picked me. Out of every other asshole in that scummy, piece of shit club in Williamsburg, she picked me. She didn’t even have to go into that particular club. She just wanted to go out and have a good time with her sister and some of their friends. Yet she comes out of there having stuffed her hand in my pocket and gives me her phone number. Thanks for seeing past the street rat, Vanessa.

Once I got home, Mama had already gone to bed. So, I decided to follow suit. However, I couldn’t sleep for the life of me. The world was too wonderful for me to sleep on it now. So, what do I do? I made myself a drink and sat out on the fire escape, letting the occasional warm breeze hit me. One night, baby…You and me are going to be sitting on our own roof of our own place. We’ll both be in that special, content place in our heads and everything will be ok. I promise you. Once things with the Old Man and I really pick up, this town is going to be ours for the taking. And I will make sure you never have to worry about anything ever again.

It’s hard to believe that all I had to do was say the word…And she’s mine.

“I thought I saw the window open,” César came out, “What’s the occasion, Frankie? You doing ok?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, nursing my tequila, “Couldn’t be better.”

“And…” he wondered, “You’re not being sarcastic?”

“Not in the least bit,” I assured him, “I have nowhere to complain.”

“That’s good to hear,” César went back inside and made himself a drink, too, “Because God forbid you were out here drinking alone.”

“Very nice, César,” I rolled my eyes, giggling a little.

“And just out of curiosity,” he started picking at me, “Is there a reason you’re all covered in glitter? Did the Old Man take you to a strip club tonight and that’s why you’re in such a good mood?”

“I don’t think any of the girls in town could do it for me anymore,” I sighed out, “No. I had better than the strip club tonight.”

“Shit, better?” César lit up a cigarette, “Let me guess. Vanessa?”

“The girl does rock a lot of glitter.” She is glitter. She’s pure sparkle in a human being.

“Well?” he wondered, “Don’t keep me in suspense, hermanito. How’d it go?”

“I love her.” There was no sense in beating around the bush about it, “I love this girl so much, César. She’s definitely…She’s something else.”

“Hard to tell,” César teased, “She’s really got a hold on you, doesn’t she?”

“You know what she told me?” I finished off my drink, “All I had to do was say the word. Say the word and she was mine.”

“And?”

“I didn’t even hesitate,” I laid my head on the brick.

“So…” César figured, “That’s your girl?”

“That’s my girl.” I like the sound of that. Vanessa’s my girl…Sounds just as nice the second time around.

“Lucky you,” he jabbed, “You did call dibs, Frankie. We’re not going to get in the way.”

“You’re damn right, you’re not!” I snapped. My brothers and I had an unspoken rule when it came to women. Once a dibs is called, the others back off. And even though I loved my brothers dearly, if either one of them laid a finger on Vanessa, I’d end up short a brother and have to ask the Old Man for a favor.

“In the way of what?” Tony poked his head out the window.

“Vanessa’s giving our little hood rat a shot,” César gave me a shove, “He called dibs.”

“I know,” Tony remembered, “Not for us.”

“Definitely not for you,” César poked at him, “Not that she’d ever go for you. Vanessa would be all over me before she’d even look twice at you.”

“What the hell, César?!” Tony whined, “Frankie already called dibs anyway!”

“She did, too,” I chuckled a bit. I’m sure she’d really appreciate my brothers arguing over a hypothetical chance with her, but I needed to stop this before it got worse, “She told me the night we met, she called dibs on me. Vanessa told me the same thing. But I don’t think I’d have to worry about Veronica. I haven’t met Violet, but I have a feeling Violet’s not going to be my biggest fan, so I’m not too worried. I’m good, though. I’ll gladly keep the one I got.”

“No one could blame you.”

That’s my girl. Damn right, that’s my girl. Vanessa was mine, whether anyone else liked it or not. And that’s how we were. For the next few months, things were perfect. I’d kill afternoons with Vanessa between her classes. Then, I’d go run errands for the Old Man, go home, and do it all again the next day. And I wasn’t mad about it. I had my girl. I was already rising in the Old Man’s ranks. Everything was absolutely fantastic…Until it wasn’t…

As the summer came to an end and fall started coming in, I got a sudden invitation from Vanessa. Some fancy ass party at her place. I thought I was going to be sick when I brought her to meet Mama. I knew her parents were going to be a totally different monster. But if I understood correctly, parties at the Scarlotti estate were never small affairs. I’m sure I’d end up getting lost in the crowd somehow. Or at least I sure as fuck hoped so. And if I did get lost in the crowd, I know what would happen. Someone would end up asking me for either food or drinks and I’d want to stab a mother fucker.

But things were so good with Vanessa and me. I wanted to go like I wanted to lick the floors of the Old Man’s office clean, but it was Vanessa. It’s not like I was going to tell her no. So, I managed to get the night off from doing the Old Man’s running and knew exactly what kind of ass reaming this was going to be. I just hope someone’s lubing up. That’s all I ask. And maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll get to suck down high-end booze and hang out with the woman I loved. That’s alright, I suppose.

I finished getting dressed and gave myself one last look in the mirror. The shit I do for you, Ness. I love you so much that I’m willing to throw my Williamsburg gutter ass into the fires of upscale Manhattan for you. I’d be alright. Cute girl. Good drink. Maybe it’ll be one of those things where we’ll be in and out. God…? If you could do me a huge solid tonight and make this go smoothly, I’d really appreciate it. I love this girl with all my heart and I don’t want to lose her because of me fucking this up tonight.

“Where the hell are you off to tonight, you fancy fuck?” César wondered, doing a double take past our bedroom.

“There’s a party at Vanessa’s tonight,” I explained, “She said it was black tie. And if we’re being honest, I’m not totally hating it.”

“Your rich girlfriend has truly sunk her claws into you, Frankie,” he hung his head, “One day, you’re going to leave us all in the slums and look down at us from your ivory tower with haughty pride and your pinky in the air and pretend like you don’t know us.”

“Fuck you,” I rolled my eyes. He knew better. As did I. I’ve always said that if I ever came into a shit ton of money, I’d make sure the family was taken care of before I did anything else. Mama would get a nice, comfortable villa in either Madrid or Barcelona (her choice). I’d set my favorite pair of dumbasses up (and chances are, they’d be working for me anyway. Just to keep them out of trouble.). I’d still have my priorities in place.

“A party at Vanessa’s tonight, huh?” Tony joined us. Oh, god. I knew where this was going, “Sounds like that could…”

“No.” I had to put my foot down quick or it’d be a recipe for disaster. As nice as it’d be to have my brothers there as a buffer (or, let’s be honest, a security blanket), I couldn’t babysit tonight, “I’m meeting Vanessa’s parents tonight and they’re not letting any more miscreants in their party. It’s bad enough I’ll be there.”

“Well,” César threw an arm around me, “Good luck, hermanito. You’re going to need it. I suggest not resorting to violence tonight.”

“And not telling Vanessa’s mom that she’s hot,” Tony winced, “Trust me. Made that mistake before.”

“I’m so fucking shocked,” César held his face in his hands, “Honest to Christ, Tony. Where did I go wrong with you?”

“We did our best, César,” I put a hand to my brother’s shoulder, “God couldn’t bless all three of us with brains. We’d be too powerful.”

“I suppose you make a good point,” César agreed, “But I thought we did better.”

A knock at the door caught us all by surprise. Gee. I wonder who that could be. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried, “I think that’s for me.”

“Hola, niña!” Mama chimed at the door.

“Hola, Sariña,” the voice of an angel drifted through our apartment, “Como estas?”

“Bien, bien!” Mama sang, “Eres tan hermosa, kariña. What’s the occasion?”

“My parents are throwing a party tonight.” I didn’t like Vanessa’s tone. She sounded so happy two seconds ago. I shoved my brothers back into our bedroom and listened, “Sariña, can I be honest with you?”

“Of course, Vanessa,” she insisted, “Please. Sit. What’s troubling you?”

“I’m scared for tonight,” her voice shook, “I’m so scared for tonight.”

“Por que?” My heart fell to the floor. Oh, Vanessa, it’ll be alright. Don’t you worry, baby. I can behave myself.

“You know I love him,” Vanessa began, “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye. But my parents…They’re not like me. When I tell them I’m going to Williamsburg, they ask me if I forgot who I was. And how embarrassing it’d be for the family if someone were to see me here. You know as well as I do that I love coming here. I love being here. I love being able to unclench once in a while.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Mama assured her.

“I just want them to give him a chance,” she hoped, “It’s not Frankie I’m worried about. I never have to worry when it comes to him. Not like that anyway. I know good when I see it. And if I didn’t see any kind of future with him, I would’ve left him in the club and walked away. I’m just…I’m scared.”

“There’s no need to worry,” I came out from the hallway, in dire need of a beautiful woman to hold. By the looks of her, Vanessa could stand a good holding. Instead, I settled on a quick kiss. It was enough to put the smile back on her face, “I got charm for days, baby. You know that.”

“God, I hope so,” she got up from the couch and threw herself into my chest. I could still feel her shaking. Don’t you worry, baby girl. I’ll make sure you’re ok by the time we get there.

“I won you over, didn’t I?” I put things into perspective, “What do I need to know?”

“My mom is difficult,” Vanessa cringed, “My dad took my mom’s last name. If that tells you anything.”

“So,” I figured, “Your mom’s a ball buster and keeps your dad’s in her purse. Got it.”

“I love my dad,” she giggled, “But yeah. You’re not wrong.”

“Then, we got this,” I promised, hugging her tight, “Trust me, Vanessa. It’s nothing the Old Man hasn’t already taught me.”

“What if things go terrible tonight?”

“Then…” I didn’t think I’d have to come up with a quick contingency plan. But I think I knew exactly what it’d be, “If we need a minute away from the crowd, then we’ll go up to the roof. I heard your roof is something special.”

“I love you, Frankie,” she melted.

“I love you, too, corazon,” I kissed the top of her head, then Mama’s cheek, “I might be out a little late, Mama. No need to wait up for me.”

“Cuidado,” Mama ordered, “Para ella.”

“I will,” I promised, “Te amo, Mama.”

“Te amo, cariño!” And just like that, Mama sent Vanessa and me off.

Well…Here goes nothing.

[headoverhiddles]

Go On, Smile - Marilyn Manson x Reader

Synopsis: You and the band terrorize the local mall. AKA The totally fictional, fucked up origins of the samples from Cake and Sodomy. 

Notes: Portrait era! Warning for intentions of assault (not from Manson) and general immature debauchery. 

There's nothing left to do in this town.

You, your boyfriend, and a few members of his band that aren't still sleeping, are wandering around the small town they're set to perform tonight. The venue's gonna be tiny, just like the town, but at this point, any gig is a good gig. They're touring their asses off to promote their first studio album, an album nobody thought could possibly get produced. Lots of touring meant a few shitty stops (okay, a fair amount), and it meant days of either doing drugs in hotel rooms, pasting flyers around the city, or trying to do normal things.

"We could vandalize buses," Jeordie suggests. 

"There's only one bus that comes by here, once every hour at half past sharp," Pogo replies, staring at the palm of his hand. "I've been watching it."

"What about the mall?" you suggest.

"Does barbie want to go shopping?" Pogo mutters. You throw a crumpled up fast food bag from the ground at him.

Brian finally speaks up. "The mall's not a bad idea, actually. There might be makeup stores there, I can swipe some pancake shit for tonight's show."

Now that their fearless leader had spoken, everyone grunted their own form of agreement, getting up off the park bench.

Making it to the mall, Jeordie runs over to the directory. "I'm going to the candy store." Pogo seems to like that idea, and the two walk off. Brian calls after them.

"Assholes! Meet us back at the doors by six, we've got a show to get to!" He turns to you, taking your hand and rolling his eyes. "As if they don't get enough drugs. Now they need sugar highs too."

The two of you walk toward the drugstore to check out the makeup. Brian immediately heads over to the lip aisle, and starts pocketing some reds and plum colours.

"You know... I wouldn't mind a bit of candy," you tell him, swinging your hand with his, "A nice, big lollipop."

Brian licks his lips. "How would you lick it, baby? Swirl your tongue over the tip?"

"I'd get it all into my mouth, then when it hits the back of my throat, I'd swallow all that sweet sugar." Brian groans, starting to walk toward the candy store with you too, and you shrug. "But I'd settle for some sugar babies."

"You get the sugar babies," he smirks, "I'll get the sugar daddy."

"You are not a sugar daddy," you laugh. He scoffs.

"I could be!" He slides his hand down to feel up your ass. "I could be your daddy, babygirl."

"You're the same fucking age as me, and you've got no money."

He shakes his head. "Just give this record a little more time. Once Interscope pushes it and Portrait sells a billion copies, stadiums all over the world'll want Marilyn Manson to scare the crap out of their upstanding citizens. We'll be in demand! Then I can buy you all sorts of weird relics."

"Special," you smile, "Normal sugar daddies buy their babies diamonds. No, I get prosthetic hands and Eichmann's aluminum dentures."

"You love it." 

"I do," you giggle, and his eyes suddenly take on that mischievous glint.

"Photo booth."

"Bri, really?"

"We gotta go in, and do a porno shoot."

"What?!"

"There's nobody around but us. Come on baby, let's take really fucking dirty pictures."

"You know, they probably save these somewhere to print them, right?"

"Good, you can flash your tits, make the mall cop jack off. Here, we can record, and put it on the new single, Cake and Sodomy! It'll be perfect."

You blush, and he pulls you into the little tent in the middle of the pathetically empty strip mall. He sets up the camera, closes the curtain, and you keep giggling.

"You go here," he sets you up on mark like a master movie director, and you check the screen, making sure the star anatomy is properly centered. Then you reach down and pull your top over your head, unhooking your bra. Brian bites his bottom lip.

"Shit, you're gonna make me have to jack off." You knee him lightly in the crotch playfully.

"Focus on the shoot, Spielberg." He puts his hands over your breasts from behind, and you yelp.

"Jesus Christ, Brian!"

"What?!"

"At least warm your hands up a little. God, it's like being fondled by the Grim Reaper!”

“Geez--”

“Boobs are very delicate things, okay, they're not like dicks, you can't just whip them out and expect--"

"Okay, alright, there. There! All warmed up. You happy?" 

"Yes," you pout, and he kisses your cheek quickly, before darting forward to press capture and resuming his position. The first flash goes off, with Brian's hands grabbing your breasts. Second one begins to count down.

"What should we do, quick, what should we do?!" you squeal, laughing, and he looks around. He gets on his knees, bringing his face up, and sucks on your nipple for the third shot.

"Get your dick out," you urge, "Hurry, do it!"

He unzips his pants, and gets his dick as close as he can to the camera.

For the fifth shot, you get on your knees this time, holding Brian's dick and licking the tip as the last flash goes off. He presses play on his tape recorder, and you stand up, kissing him and making the sexiest noises you can.

"Alright.... mmm... mmmm!"

The two of you are laughing uncontrollably like children as you exit the booth with the printed strip. "Gorgeous," you nod, inspecting it.

"We're hot. I'd wanna fuck us," he says.

"God, same."

"We should use these as album art."

"Go for it," you shrug, "I'm sure it'd help sell all those billions of copies you promised." You bite your pinkie nail, looking back at the booth. "What if there were cameras that were watching inside, though? Like other cameras?" He massages your shoulders as you walk.

"I told you, there probably were. I already shoplifted, might as well be arrested for public indecency as well. It'll help my, uh... dangerous rock star image."

You groan, hiding your face in Brian's shoulder as you two keep walking.

You meet up with Jeordie and Pogo in front of the candy shop, Brian having shoved the strip down his back pocket. Jeordie has a bag full of sweets.

"What did you get?" you ask, burrowing inside it. He hands you some laffy taffy.

"I know you like this stuff."

"Jeord! I absolutely love you!"

"I know." He grins. "Hehe, Star Wars."

Just then, a big, hairy motherfucker of a security guard approaches you four quickly. He's an imposing figure, even on your 6'1 boyfriend.

"I promise I paid for all these gummy worms," Jeordie begins to tell him, but he looks at you and Brian.

"You the kids from the photo booth?"

You're too shocked to speak, so Brian, ever the antagonist, nods, sizing him up. "Yeah. Is there a problem?"

"You're going to have to come with me," the portly guard says sternly, and Brian shoves him off.

"Like hell, buddy." 

The guard starts to take something out of the back of his belt, so before either of you can find out what, you stop him.

"Wait! Wait, it's okay. We'll go." You lean in to Brian pleadingly. "The most he can do is give us a warning. Don't get your show banned here over some stupid, bloated mall guy with a bone to pick."

"Fine." You and Brian turn, noticing Jeordie and Pogo had fled the scene. "Great friends," Brian mutters, and the two of you start walking.

The guard leads you into a dark, grimy room down some steps under the mall's CVS, where you see a bunch of security camera feeds, and... your topless photos displayed on one of them. It smells strange down here, like spoiled chicken and vaseline. The guard sits down.

"So. You think creating pornography in public is funny, do you?"

Brian lets loose a stream of vitriol you knew had been simmering. "I do. In fact, I think it's the most goddamn hilarious thing I've ever done, you stuffy old dickhead!"

"Brian..."

"You wouldn't know much about that though, since you're probably so miserable working overtime for a mall who sees the local crackhead walk through maybe once every month or so and that's it--"

"Brian."

"--Getting paid to sit behind a desk in the dark, eat donuts and creep on people like a glorified cam-stalker--"

"Brian!"

"I bet you liked looking at my girlfriend's tits, huh? You like em, you fucking pervert? Why don't you--"

The guard finally has enough, and gets up out of his chair, walking behind Brian and tying a gag around his mouth. You go to stop him, but he grabs some duct tape, and sits you down, tying your wrists behind the chair. He does the same to Brian, restraining him. Shaking in fear, you sit still, paralyzed, as the guard sits back down in front of you two.

"You kids now and your alternative lifestyles. Think that acting outlandish and wearing black, Satanic clothing that never would've flown in my day is the way to give us civilized folk here in this good, god fearing little town the middle finger, huh?"

He sneers down at your leather miniskirt, and then to Brian's thick platform boots, looking him up and down. He's not really helping disprove the man's point about outlandish clothes, with his lipstick and shaved eyebrows. You think you see Brian fiddle with something in his back pocket, but your attention is directed back to the guard.

"Performing sexual acts in my mall. You won't get away with that."

"What are you gonna do?" you whimper.

"Put on a little show of my own," he starts to smile sadistically. You start to feel cold all over. He doesn't mean...

Brian's eyes close. Of course the two of you had found the Buffalo Bill of mall cops. Fucking lucky. Well. It'd be a story for the show.

The man sits back. "Smile."

Brian watches the guy closely. "You touch her..." your boyfriend warns. You struggle to pull your restraints free.

"Smile for me," the guard repeats, growing impatient.

You swallow. "Just let us go. We're really sorry about the photos!"

He finally stands up, cracking a fist. "Go on smile, you cunt!"

Brian jumps up, and though his wrists are still bound like yours, he turns around to grab you, pulling you both to the door. He spits the gag out. "Run."

The two of you dash out the side entrance to the mall, and keep running until you can't hear the guard yelling anymore.

Jeordie and Pogo come out of the woodwork, quickly gathering around you.

"Fuckin' redneck tyrant!" Brian shouts back, grabbing and tossing Jeordie's milkshake at the building. Jeordie stares in longing at the destroyed strawberry goop on the ground, debating if the 5 second rule worked for drinks too. Pogo takes a switchblade out to cut you two loose.

"I got the perfect sound bites on tape we can sample for Cake and Sodomy, of you moaning like a whore and that guy being a general asshole," Brian tells you, and you roll your eyes.

"After nearly being killed by a psychotic mall cop, that's all you have to say? Typical."

"What did you guys even do?!" Jeordie asks.

You dig out the photo strip from Brian's back pocket, and pass it to the other guys. Pogo nods, stroking his goatee like a critic.

"That's art."

[anboringday]

Tracey x Franklin: Just Friends

Summary: Tracey De Santa, a college freshman, has a crush on the most popular boy on campus, Chad Dillington. Determined to win his heart, she turns to her best friend Franklin Clinton for help. However, she never expected to start developing feelings for her best friend instead...

Word Count: 5.8k 

Tags: Fluff!! And more fluff!! Slow burn. Friends to Lovers. (Post Ending-C)

Read on Ao3 

Franklin barreled through the door of my room.

Carefully applying my eyeliner in the mirror, I glanced at him. Chiseled jaw clenched and hands balled into fists, a frown marred the space between his arrogantly shaped brows. His strong, muscled arms wired tight beneath his white T-shirt, he stood at the ready for battle.

His cognac-brown eyes searched my room from top to bottom for unknown threats. “Tracey? You good?”

“Um, duh. I’m always fine.” I returned my attention to my makeup. “I’m gonna need you to tone down some of that masculinity. It’s totally uncalled for, super distracting, and it’s ruining my good vibes—”

His warm hand came down on my shoulder. I stiffened, his eyes shrewd and accessing as they bored into me. “You sent me a text saying that you were dying, that you needed my help. You sure you good?”

His voice was soft, filled with concern. My gut kicked. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent that overly dramatic text, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed help. Badly. Dad was always busy doing movie director stuff, Mom was too preoccupied with shopping and yoga, and Jimmy was a complete idiot, so Franklin was the only person I could rely on.

It’s been that way for months. He picked me up from school, assisted with my homework, helped me take selfies for Bleeter, talked me through every one of my frequent mental breakdowns—he was a life saver, literally. Because he was so selflessly awesome, I decided to keep him around. Mostly because he did stuff for me, but he also had a nice personality to boot.

And we looked hella good together. Whenever we were out and about in the city, people would stop and turn their heads to gawk at our beauty. I was a celebrity after all, the sexiest girl in Los Santos according to my Bleeter stalkers. And Franklin was powerfully built, dark-haired with stunningly amber eyes. He was a man who looked absolutely gorgeous just about every day of his life. It seemed effortless for him, and I would’ve resented that if weren’t besties.  

I confessed, “I lied to get you here, okay?”

“Tracey…” Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You scared the shit outta me, girl. What were you thinking—”

“Don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” I hugged him.

The tension in his muscles relaxed beneath my touch. I took his hand and flopped down on my bed. He sat beside me, our fingers intertwined. “A’ight, Trace. I’m here now, so what’s going on with you?”

“I have news,” I smiled. “The best news. You’re not gonna believe this, but Chad Dillington asked me on a date!”

He stared at me, his expression blank.

“Well?” I tapped his shoulder. “Say something! Aren’t you excited for me?”

“Who the fuck is Chad Dillington?” he asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Energy thrumming through me, I jumped to my feet. “He’s like the hottest, most popular guy at my university! He’s a quarterback for the football team, a committed member of the Alpha Omega Theta Pi—”

“The Alpha Omega what?”

“It’s a fraternity, Frank! Chad Dillington is a big effing deal, literally every chick on campus wants to bone him. He has the prettiest blue eyes and the cutest smile ever.” I twirled on my heels. “I can’t believe he chose me of all people to go on a date with. This is so, like, amazing!”

“That’s cool, I guess.” He shrugged. “You called me over here just to tell me that?”

“No! If there’s any hope in winning Chad Dillington’s heart, I’ll need support. Your support and guidance, in particular.”

His brows furrowed. “Uh…why?”

“Because you can help me understand him! Guys know what other guys are thinking, right? You and Chad have so much in common too. You’re both around the same age, you both like getting sweaty at the gym, you both like getting high—”

“No offense, Trace, but me and that preppy ass frat boy ain’t got shit in common. I’m sorry, but I’m finna pass on this one. Maybe one of yo’ friends at school can help you.” He stood and took off for the door.

“Wait!” I swerved in front of him, blocking the exit with outstretched arms. “You’re right, there are some stuff you and Chad don’t have in common. Like, for example, he’s way smarter than you and his parents are filthy rich.”

Franklin glared a hole into me, a muscle in his jaw twitched. Yikes. Probably shouldn’t have said that.

“But you’re sane,” I complimented. “Sensible, wise beyond your years, and levelheaded. You’re playing with a full deck, Frank. That’s a rarity in Los Santos, you know? Everyone here is crazy.”

“Including you,” he snapped.

“But you love me.” I hugged his muscled arm. “You’re like the ping to my pong, the yin to my yang, the butter to my bread, the chocolate to my milkshake…”

“That was cute until you mentioned the part about chocolate. Now it’s weird.”

“Frank, you have to help me!” I pleaded desperately; my mouth set in a pout. “I’m your best friend, you can’t abandon me when I need you most. It’s not fair! I’ll hate you forever if you do—”

He smothered my mouth with his palm, silencing me. “Fine, I’ll help you on one condition. No more whining and crying like a damn baby, it’s embarrassing. Makes my ears bleed, it’s horrible.”

I smacked his hand away. “Deal. Now shut up and listen.” Standing on the tip of my toes, I spoke quietly into his ear. “Chad invited me to a masquerade ball. It’s a top secret, invitation only party the fraternity is hosting at some old, underground speakeasy—”

“Girl, why you whispering?”

“Because it’s a secret. Mom and Dad can’t know about this, they’ll freak out. Promise me you won’t tell them. You know how overprotective they are, they never let me have any fun.”

“It’s all good, relax. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Swear on it.” I rose my pinky.

“I promise.” His finger curled around mine. “So the most popular douche bag motherfucker in school invites you to an invitation only masquerade ball…”

“Could you refrain from calling him a ‘douche bag motherfucker’, please?” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, all the cool kids are gonna be there. The party is happening this weekend. Friday night. I only have two days to prepare. This is so short notice, I haven’t even picked out a dress.”

“Hey, you could always cancel.”

“No! A date with Chad Dillington is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I can’t back out now. I have to do this.” My stomach grew queasy and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I paced the room, my fingers laced taut until my knuckles turned white. “What if I screw everything up? What if he doesn’t like me?”

Franklin appeared in front of me. I jerked to a halt, riveted to the spot as his searching gaze burned into me, glimmering with golden flecks. Lost in the intensity of his eyes, something shifted in the air between us.

As he stared back, he changed…as if the impalpable wall he kept between us began to chip and splinter. His tough, guarded demeanor crumbled before me, revealing a soft vulnerability in his eyes. A tenderness I had no clue he was capable of.

He patted my shoulder and squeezed lightly, affectionately. My skin tingled from the warm, steady pressure of his touch. “Of course the frat boy is feelin’ you,” he said softly. “He’d be crazy not to.”

My cheeks heated. Since when did he become so flattering? “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” I mumbled.

“Nah. I mean it.” He reached into his pocket for his phone and started tapping away at the keyboard.

I peeked at the screen. “What are you doing?”

“If you’re going to a ball, you gotta know how to dance.” He pulled up a Bleeter video of dancers clad in silk doing the Waltz. “Think you can do that?”

“Uh, I dunno. Last time I tried to slow dance with a guy was at high school prom. I slipped and twisted my ankle in front of everyone. Super embarrassing.”

“Let’s make sure you don’t trip this Friday, a’ight? We can practice together.” He propped his phone on my desk and took my hand in his, the other rested on the small of my back. “You ready?”

Our eyes locked, I nodded weakly, my breath coming in short and fast. The contact was electric, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from him—like a magnetic pull that grew harder to reject by the second. He started moving, his strapping body gliding across the carpeted floor with confidence and easy rhythm. Jeez, when did he get so good at this? He was a natural! My knees wobbly, I followed his lead to the best of my ability.

I felt so small and insignificant in comparison to him, my movement stiff and awkward. And it didn’t help that I was petite, barely over five feet, and he was huge—a tall, deep brown slab of solid muscle and well-exercised strength. The force of his presence was difficult to ignore in a crowded room, and doubly so in an enclosed place like this, so close to me…  

After a few beats, the heat of his direct, prolonged gaze became overwhelming. I lowered my head shyly.

“Chin up,” he instructed, tipping my head upward with a gentle push of his thumb under my chin.

Sucking in a harsh breath from the mind-boggling intimacy, I lost my footing and tripped over my own feet. He caught me in his arms just before I collided with the floor, his strong-featured face hovered over mine. Hit with all that striking masculinity at eye-level, I could only stare. Stunned. His beard was well-groomed, complimenting the hard lines of his square cut jaw, and his lips were like the icing on the cake…the fullness gave his rugged good looks the perfect touch of sensuality.

He helped me to my feet. “That wasn’t part of the dance, Trace.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Pinching my lips together, I kicked a tube of old nail polish across the floor. “I’m never going to get this right. I’m so screwed.”

“It ain’t the end of the world. You still got time. Don’t give up, girl.”

“I wish I could be as optimistic as you are.” I sighed. “I’m sorry for being a bitch. There’s a lot of pressure on me and I’m taking it out on you.”

“It’s all good. I’m used to you being bitchy. I’m used to the screaming temper tantrums—when you beat yo’ fists against the floor and your legs start flailing like a fish outta water …” He grinned.

My stomach dropped. “It’s not funny.”

His laughter quickly faded. “My bad.”

An awkward silence filled the room. Twisting a finger around the hem of my blouse, I broke the quiet. “I’ve been working on my temperament with Doctor Friedlander. Do you think I’m getting any better?”

He leaned against the wall, his hands tucked casually into his jean pockets. “You haven’t had any episodes recently.”

“Because you calm me down right before I snap. Every time.”

“So why are wasting stacks on therapy, then? You’ve been seeing a therapist for what? Years? And you were still having panic attacks until…”

“Until you came along,” I completed his sentence. “I don’t want to become so dependent on you, Frank. It’s like, totally unfair to you.”

“Shit, I don’t mind. I ain’t going nowhere, unless you want me to—”

“No!” My heart lurched at the thought of losing him. Shocked by the fury of my reaction, I took a careful step away from him. “You wouldn’t leave me. You’d miss me too much.”

He stared at me for a moment, silent and thoughtful, his brow quirked.

I tensed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Uh, no reason.” He lifted the brim of his black Los Santos snapback to scratch his head. “I should probably bounce. It’s getting late, and you got class in the morning.”

“Wait.” I passed him his phone and gave him a brief good-bye hug. “Do you think you could give me some guitar lessons after school tomorrow? Music class is kinda kicking my ass. I could use the extra help.”

“Yeah. Of course. No problem.” He chuckled, seemingly nervous for some reason. “I ain’t the best with the guitar, but uh, I know a few things so…”

“Are you kidding? You’re way better at it than me.”

“Slightly better.” His teeth gleamed in a smile. “A’ight. I’ll hit you up tomorrow.”

I was a little bummed about him leaving, but he was right. I needed the rest so I could wake up bright and early tomorrow. I returned a smile. “Bye, Frank.”

“Bye, Trace.” He turned to leave but stopped at the door, his gaze shifted to me. “By the way, you don’t have to lie to get me here. You ain’t gotta send no dramatic texts or nothin’ crazy like that. If you need to see me, whatever the reason, just…call. I’ll be here in a heartbeat.” 

A pang struck my heart. I swallowed deep, fumbling for words. Before I managed to find my words, he was gone.

With a heavy sigh, I collapsed on my bed. What was the matter with me? Why were my brain cells starting to fry around Franklin? I had a huge date planned with Chad Dillington, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about my best friend.

My phone vibrated on my nightstand. I grabbed it and found two new texts from Franklin.

Still thinking bout how tripped over your own damn feet earlier.

Girl, you clumsy.

Oh my god. With an embarrassed grin, I texted him back; Wow. You sure know just what to say to boost a girl’s confidence :P

He responded a minute later. What if I told you that I like when you’re clumsy? I get to pick you up whenever you fall.

I read the message with wide eyes and then powered down my phone, my nerves danced wildly in my stomach. There was an ache in my chest, and I rubbed at it. Jeez. Pull yourself together, Tracey…

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