#glittered knows why i chose this answer

[tideswept]

Thoughts on daemon aus? What kind of animal would anakin’s daemon be and what would be Obi-wan’s? 🧐

OH MAN aaaaahhh

[frets]

If I recall His Dark Materials (which in all fairness I read over twenty years ago) daemons were opposite gender, right? but then a fan asked him if same-gender pairs also meant that person was gay and I think he was like "yes absolutely that's what it means"? so uh that alone brings up some interesting questions. (do bisexuals get two? what about ace people--okay, I'll stop myself.)

so I will ALSO assume (or perhaps I will simply cheat) that we're talking real animals, not GFFA ones. :D

I could literally go on for ninety years about possibilities because I am a nerd but I will go with my gut and say...

Swans.

Both of them.

It doesn't start off that way, of course. As a child, Anakin's daemon mostly stuck to small animals that were resilient in the desert; scavengers, predators. Often it was a sand cat, but not always. Other common sights for Anakin's daemon was a jerboa, a kit fox, and a tiger rattlesnake.

So when his daemon settled on the same form as Obi-Wan's, there was definitely some surprise, but most dismiss it as Anakin finally letting go of his childish attachment to where he came from and embracing his new circumstances as a Jedi, taking after Obi-Wan. And why shouldn't he? Obi-Wan is the perfect Jedi, isn't he?

But wait; both of them have Black Swans. Like Mute Swans, they also mate for life.... but 1/4th of all matings are homosexual in nature.

No one says anything. Not at first. Not even them. But by the end of the first year, it's very hard to deny their feelings when their daemons are clearly mates.

[choerrypuffs]

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.” 

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier. 

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely. 

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson. 

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly. 

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.” 

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state. 

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.” 

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention. 

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support. 

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw. 

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers. 

“You don’t look―” 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?” 

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck. 

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod. 

.

.

.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer. 

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip. 

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood. 

“That was…delicious,” he breathes. 

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.” 

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together. 

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw. 

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes. 

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks: 

“So, you’re hiring?” 

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question. 

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up. 

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias. 

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand. 

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say: 

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu. 

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling. 

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.” 

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!” 

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses. 

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?” 

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. 

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup. 

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.” 

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.” 

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.” 

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows. 

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.” 

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.” 

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in. 

But you don’t. 

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.” 

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you. 

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him. 

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday. 

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly. 

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand. 

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.” 

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease. 

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?” 

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.” 

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck. 

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh. 

“Pretty lame, right?” 

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.” 

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently. 

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?” 

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.” 

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length. 

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!” 

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Who else would I go with?” 

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately. 

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain. 

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.” 

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms. 

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile. 

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him. 

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” 

“...Seven.”

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property. 

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.” 

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes. 

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you. 

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. 

“Oh my God, your face!” 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.” 

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.” 

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes. 

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself. 

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile. 

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod. 

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.” 

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.” 

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here. 

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh. 

“Why?” 

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you. 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.” 

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction. 

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that. 

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.” 

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away. 

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever. 

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.” 

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself? 

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway. 

.

.

.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table. 

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.” 

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice. 

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it. 

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.” 

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.” 

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.” 

“I’ll help,” he insists. 

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.” 

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.” 

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too. 

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t. 

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now. 

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him. 

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay. 

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee. 

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold. 

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too. 

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?” 

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her. 

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself. 

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be. 

.

.

.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise. 

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t. 

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff. 

“Y/N, they’re burning.” 

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp. 

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs. 

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.” 

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” 

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?” 

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch. 

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.” 

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.” 

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?” 

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly. 

“Do you treat all your friends like that?” 

“When I don’t want to see them.” 

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him. 

But he steps back. 

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.” 

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly. 

“I probably should,” he answers shakily. 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“Just…one reason.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.” 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back. 

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.” 

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all. 

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you. 

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself. 

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless. 

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check. 

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.” 

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly. 

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.” 

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take. 

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about― 

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way. 

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.” 

You stare at him, still not sure how to react. 

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” 

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting. 

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?” 

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―” 

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath. 

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.” 

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?” 

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare. 

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich. 

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up. 

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace. 

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?” 

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“Because I’m curious.” 

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.” 

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.” 

You smile against the crook of his neck. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.” 

[tojisun]

I would love to know what you think 141 and reader are wearing for Halloween this year!

MY TIME HAS COME

(sue me if im projecting because my plans got cancelled but) they’re all going out as the teletubbies + sun baby group. mr john price is the sun baby.

you and kyle are the ones who chose the idea — you were supposed to be the sun baby but you told him, “just imagine it kyle; cap’n with the biggest sun rays because he’s our gorgeous baby.”

the principle that john price, the oldest of the squad, is the baby has kyle placing the order so fast, mid-laughter, the two of you huddled away from the group and dutifully ignoring the fact that the rest are all staring knowingly at the two of you because you and kyle teaming up together is never a good sign. johnny is excited sure, simon is… well, he’s traumatized now, actually, and john? john pretends he doesn’t care but the hairs on the back of his neck are standing upright in his bloating apprehension.

so when the costumes arrived, he cursed himself because he should’ve known.

he walks out the door in this impossibly bright inflatable sun costume with furrowed brows and a lit cigar already perched on his pinched lips because he cannot survive tonight without any type of high.

(on the off chance that this did not happen, the squad goes out as cowboys — the sexy ones, with, like, only vests and low hanging jeans and frilly boots and bedazzled hats. and you? you’re dressed in an inflatable t-rex costume.)

(unless the halloween party is a premise to a sexy time, then you’re dressed as an angel.

imagine that — fluffy wings and a tulle, and so much glitter. somehow, you’re just honest to god sparkling before their eyes. how even.

they don’t understand why the idea of corrupting you is too… appealing. hell, they haven’t even thought of you in that way yet.

you were a constant; their cornerstone. you were the one thing that was unchanging in their lives; the one they could rely on when the rug has been ripped out from under them. you were just you.

so these feelings that are scaling down the planes of their spines leave them with their gums throbbing and their stomachs swooping. while you just dance away from their reach, giggly and ignorant of the fever you’ve set off in them.)

—

sorry for the whiplash. mid-answering this, i just thought that the squad deserves to experience those cliche films where they never realized that this member of their group is their type until said person rocked their world through a costume change ehehehheffh

[oosleepyfaeoo]

A Kiss Is All I Need

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Chapter One

Summary: 2 months ago, Alys, the love of his life, broke up with him. Their relationship of five years gone by a simple farewell note that she left on their, well now his, penthouse. 2 months crying and feeling like shit but that all stopped when he meet you on that dreadful clothing store.

Warnings: Some angst, Aegon being the wingman, she/her pronouns, slow burn, eventual smut

Words: 2k

Masterlist

A/N: English is not my main language so i apologize for bad grammar but i hope you still like it! Feel free to reblog and comment! It would make me really happy to know you guys thoughts (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

“Seriously, Aemond. Relax a little.” Aegon drawls, eyeing his little brother carefully.

Aemond stood beside his brother, tense as a rock, contemplating his surroundings while his long pale fingers toy with his old, stained t-shirt. They currently stood in the middle of the clothing store, waiting for their sister Helaena while she chose some new and clean clothes for Aemond.

His siblings finally, after a month of rotting in his penthouse, dragged him out of the house to get some fresh air and apparently, some new clothes.

Aemond just shot his brother a glare and continued nervously toying with his t-shirt. Aegon rolls his eyes. “She did a number on you, didn’t she?” He says with a small frown.

2 months ago, Alys, the love of his life, broke up with him. Their relationship of five years gone by a simple farewell note that she left on their, well now his, penthouse. He still remembers how his heart beat so fast against his ribcages while he searched the whole house for her, noticing that all her clothes and jewelry (which he gifted to her) were gone.

He met her at one of his family company parties. Alys was the secretary of Lyonel Strong. Aemond was completely in awe with her when his eye landed on her, the way she moved so gracefully, and how her green eyes sparkled with mischief and wisdom.

When they made their relationship public, it was quite a shock for everyone, especially his mother. He was 23 and she was 35 at the time which was entirely understandable since they had a big age gap, twelve years to be precise.

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Aemond murmurs, trying his hardest to not think about Alys.

Aegon sighs and wraps his arm around his brother's shoulders. “I know you don’t... But try to loosen up a little.” He looks at Aemond worriedly. “Everyone is worried about you... Seven Hells, even Jace, and Luke are worried-”

Aemond looked down with a frown when suddenly he felt a gentle pull on his jeans. By his feet was a little girl dressed in a princess costume, full of pink and sparkly glitter. Her black hair hangs in two cute pigtails and a small simple tiara on top of her head.

The child looks carefully at Aemond, her eyes fixed on his eyepatch. “Are you a pirate?” She asks with an excited grin, her big round eyes shining in mischief.

Aegon burst out laughing while Aemond just stood there, looking down at the small girl in shock.

She huffs in annoyance and pulls the fabric of his jeans again. “Well?”

Noticing that Aemond does not intend to answer the poor girl, Aegon kneels beside the girl and gives her a kind smile.

“Sorry kid but he’s no pirate.” His answer made the girl frown in disappointment. “But he’s a Prince!” Now that made her look at Aemond in surprise and then back at Aegon, eyeing carefully.

“If he’s a Prince then why he doesn't smile?” She asks.

That pierce a little Aemond’s heart. Kneeling, he grabbed her small hand and gave her a small smile. “I’m sad... So that’s why I don’t smile much, little Princess.”

The girl giggles at her nickname but quickly disappears as she frowns, looking into his eye intensely. Then she took a step forward, placed her tiny hands on his cheeks, and kissed the point of his nose. Aemond stood very still, his eye wide in surprise at the girl's gesture.

She pulls back and smiles in excitement. “There! A kiss always pushes the sadness away!” The girl says proudly. “My mommy always kisses me whenever I'm sad or hurt.”

//// \\\\

“Em!” You call while looking everywhere in the clothing store for your daughter. “Emily! Where are you?!”

You can’t take that girl anywhere without getting a panic attack. You love to the death, she was your sun and moon but sometimes you wish that your daughter wasn't so adventurous. You were finishing a client order when you noticed your daughter leaving the bakery and running into the clothing store right in front. This made you leave everything that you were doing and run after her.

Sighing in relief, you spot her by the men's section talking to 2 silver-headed men. “Emily!” You breathe out as you kneel and pull her into a hug. “Don’t you ever disappear on me again! Mommy’s heart can’t handle any more surprise adventures.”

Your daughter grins at you and points to the man with an eyepatch. “Mommy I found a Prince!” She says excitedly. “Don’t worry, he’s not a pirate.” She whispers that part to you which makes you chuckle.

You stood up, holding Emily in your arms. “I’m so sorry. I hope my daughter didn’t bother you too much.” You apologize.

The handsome eyepatch man stood still looking down at you. A light blush appears on your face as you study his face properly. He was tall, really tall, with beautiful silky long silver hair that was loosely braided. His features were sharp which made him even more attractive. His eye was colored in a lovely ice blue shade with a hint of light purple. A black eyepatch covers his other eye, and you notice a long scar coming out of it down to his cheek. He was dressed in a simple green t-shirt (which seems to have seen better days) some black jeans, and black Doctor Martens.

He seemed nervous as he began playing with his fingers. “Huh... It’s no problem. Your daughter is a very sweet child.” he smiles softly.

“Mommy! Mommy! The Prince was sad so I kissed his nose like you do to me when I'm sad or hurt. And now he’s happy!” Emily giggles while resting her head on your shoulder.

“That’s very sweet of you, Em... But you can’t go wander off and kiss strangers.” You sigh while giving an apologetic look to the silver-headed man. “You know that while mommy is working, you need to stay with Maria.”

Emily rolls her eyes and pouts. “Ugh, but Maria is boring! She stays in front of the computer all day and does nothing... I much prefer staying at home, at least I could play with Pumpkin.”

You adjust her tiara on her head and kiss her forehead gently. “I know but I can’t let you be at home alone, sweetheart.”

While you scold your daughter, trying to convince her to stay with your employee. Aegon stays silent studying the scene before him. He had noticed how Aemond suddenly couldn’t take his eye off you or how his pale cheeks suddenly turned pink when you smiled gently at him.

Aegon also noticed you eyeing his little brother which made him grin mischiefly. Oh, he had a plan forming in his head. A BIG plan.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to intrude but it seems you are in need of a babysitter for this lovely Princess,” Aegon says while smiling at Emily who grins at him. He wraps his arm around Aemond’s shoulders and pulls him to his side. “My baby brother, Aemond, is in need of a job and he’s great with kids. He usually babysits our nephews. So, he knows how to take care of children.”

Aemond shot Aegon a glare and opened his lips to disagree with whatever his brother had in mind, but Aegon just smiled at him and stepped on his foot to silence him.

“So, what do you think?” Aegon grins down at you.

You frown gently. It’s true that you seriously needed a babysitter for Emily, but you don’t have time to look for one since being a single mother and owning a bakery occupy your days. Also, it’s hard to trust a stranger to look after your kid. Your friend, Nat, tried to convince you to hire a babysitter after Emily turned one year old but you quickly refused, saying that you could perfectly manage taking care of Emily and your business alone.

Oh boy, how wrong you were. Since Emily started walking, your life has been a nightmare. She was like a ninja. One minute she was there and the next, she was gone. Every day you would have to run off from your work to go find her. She loves exploring and she makes sure you know that, every, single, day.

Maybe Nat is right.

“Okay,” You sigh. Aegon clapped in victory and smiled at his brother. “But I will be needing an interview with Aemond. To see if he has the training that is needed to look after a child.”

“Of course! When?” Aegon asked while Aemond just stood there petrified.

“Tomorrow at 2 pm.” You took your business card and gave it to Aemond. “You will find me in my bakery shop. It’s right in front of this store.”

Aemond nodded and took your card. “Thank you... I’ll be there.”

You smile gently and say your goodbyes, taking Emily back to your shop. “Bye Bye Prince!” The girl waved to him with a toothless smile which made Aemond smile gently and wave back.

When you and Emily are out of the clothing store, Aemond turns to his brother and slaps roughly on his shoulder. “What in the actual fuck was that, Aegon?!” He growled.

Aegon hissed in pain and pouted. “Ouch!... Is this how you thank your big brother for getting you a date with that hot girl?!”

Aemond rolls his eye. “By making me a babysitter?” He sighs. “Look Aegon, I'm not ready to be with someone yet... Also, did you not think that maybe she has a husband?”

Aegon grins at him. “No ring on her finger so she’s probably single. And you are more than ready to be with someone... It’s been two months since you and Alys broke up, you had your time weep and now it’s time to go back into action.”

Helaena pops beside Aegon with her arms full of clothes that she chooses for Aemond. “Our little brother has a date tomorrow!” Aegon claps excitedly.

Helaena gasps in surprise and then looks back to the clothes in her arms and back to Aemond, frowning gently. “We need more clothes.” She whispers while going back into the clothing store with Aegon on her trail.

Aemond sighs in defeat but a tiny smile appears on his thin lips. He’s not going to lie, you seem really interesting. 

Tag list is open!

Thank you for reading! Hope you like it! ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

[onlyswan]

summary: in which sour and salt could be so sweet when jungkook’s existence reminds you that there is still good in the world.

> fluff, a pinch of angst, suggestive / wc: 3.1k

> warnings: mention of the doctor bc oc missed their period >:(, allusion to s/x, making out, jungkook doing pull ups must be a warning for the faint hearted like me

note: we’re going through the seasons?! partly inspired by #that live and jungkook for calvin klein <3 we’ve all seen those pictures right… right… i hope the onlyswan prophecy continues with this drabble i need to see jungkook do pull ups at the beach <3 + reblogs & feedback are always appreciated :D

—

jungkook is a sunkissed daydream and a shirtless adonis. his tender hands are on your bare thighs, keeping himself steady on the light brown sand while you sit still and look pretty on a log.

“baby, are you pregnant?”

when a man spits out this question, it usually sounds a little bit something like an anxious and insensitive ‘you’re not pregnant, are you?’ your starry-eyed boyfriend is asking you in a calm tone, joking for the most part, yet genuine wonder is painted on his face as if you’re just supposed to tell him what day of the week it is.

you stare at him with a blank expression, silent for a moment as the fierce waves crash on the shore, finding it difficult to take him seriously. “i don’t know. did you break a condom?”

he breaks eye-contact to space out, pursing his lips as he pretends to be immersed in deep thought.

“uhh, not to my knowledge.”

“then i’m not.” you shrug your shoulders with a cheeky grin, scrunching your nose. “will you steal some mangoes for me now, please?”

“is my baby craving for them that bad?” he coos at you softly, inching closer to press a kiss on your lips. “no but why do you always ask me to steal mangoes for you?”

“what do you mean ‘always’? this is only the second time.” you scoff, offended by the accusation, shoving him lightly but he quickly takes a hold of your arms to save himself from falling.

he chuckles lightheartedly, recounting the first time you visited his hometown and you took a walk around his neighborhood together. you looked at the mango tree with so much longing, and he had so much love for you, it was untameable.

nothing much has changed.

except for the color of the mangoes, perhaps. they were yellow back then, ripe and soft. you ripped off the fragile skin with your bare hands as you devoured the nectar-filled fruit, and the both of you came home to his parents’ house sticky and satiated like little kids who played under the sun from noon to afternoon. today, they’re green and plump, and truthfully, his mouth is watering for a taste.

“you know, since the tree is directly infront of our villa-” he tilts his head to the side, briefly looking at your temporary private residence. “it’s technically ours, so it’s not stealing.”

your eyes are glitter with mischief, and they communicate without words before you burst into a fit of revitalizing giggles, filling your empty tummy with a childlike joy.

—

for a while before jungkook, you’d forgotten people are kind. you chose to live for yourself, and yourself only, because you thought that if you lose sight of your plans for the future because of a impetuous slip within the thrill of temptation, you would also lose the essence of your being that you’re actively fighting so hard to get a good grasp of. you’re in a never-ending, excruciating process of picking apart your identity; detaching yourself from what you learned in the past to make room for growth; and swallowing bitter pills of hard-taught lessons. but when you’re in a relationship, every decision goes through a filter, a need for an answer to the question of how would this make my partner feel?

your friends still ask from time to time, what it is about jungkook that made you bend this principle and compromise your plans when those were the reasons you impulsively ended relationships in the past.

you’d forgotten people are kind.

jungkook is messy. he always leaves behind a fragment of his heart, and you shake your head and you pick up each one to stuff it in the shallow pocket of your understanding of love… until the weight of them destroyed said pocket, and all of a sudden, you have awoken. he opened your eyes to the underlying implication of that filter, how having something sacred to protect is also what makes life more worth living after all.

more than two hours ago, at seven in the morning, he held back your hair while you emptied your guts in the toilet bowl. a week ago, he held your hand in the doctor’s waiting room and didn’t let go until your name was called. that same night, you sulked about the doctor concluding that the reason you didn’t get your period last month was stress again and he teared up when you said i eat well, and i exercise regularly. but in the end it’s all useless because stress is messing up my body and i can’t control it. what do i do? the next day, he cheerfully asked you if you wanted to go see the ocean with him. right now, he’s hanging on a thick branch of a tree, enthusiastically doing pull ups while you peel the raw mangoes he picked out for you.

the familiar sounds of moans and grunts convince you to move the log you’re sitting on, abandoning the view of the majestic blue sky kissing the sparkling ocean in favor of facing your gorgeous boyfriend. he moves on to doing hanging knee tucks, pulling his knees to his chest and gradually increasing his speed and range of motion after gathering enough leverage.

“ah, this is tiring!” his yell ripples across the near-empty beach. he squeezes his eyes shut, laughing through the pain that hurts so good.

you set aside the paring knife on the plain white porcelain plate, dipping a piece of mango in the hill of salt before taking a bite (you played rock-paper-scissors to decide who would call the front desk for salt and you won after jungkook said he lost because his rock was made of paper). this, it’s just what you needed to cure the lethargy that’s been eating away at you. the combination of sour and salty explodes in your taste buds, remedying your awful loss of taste and appetite.

you shudder in sheer delight, smiling sweetly at the man brazenly showcasing his strength infront of you. “i like this a lot. i can feel my stress melting away… like ice cream under the sun.”

“i’m happy you’re enjoying yourself while i-” he cuts off his sentence, letting himself fall on the sand before jumping again to adjust his grip on the rough wood. once again, he hauls his legs upward repeatedly, reaching higher and higher each time. he releases loud huffs of air, grunting raspily with every exertion of force.

you stifle a scandalous gasp when his knees touch his wrists, covering your mouth as you grind the food with your teeth. okay, you know damn well he is flexible and a human-shaped vessel of physical strength, but you mostly witness their irrefutable testaments during intense moments of love and lust… the blissful memories can be kind of hazy.

he heaves a deep sigh, taking a rest as he hangs motionless on the branch. picture-perfect, center-frame for your adoring eyes to feast upon. his honey skin is glazed with a fine sheen of sweat, further accentuating the well-defined muscles of his torso. you only get a tease of his v-line. it hides beneath the exposed white band of his calvin klein underwear peeking above his black swimming shorts. his stomach rises and falls with each breath, and you can’t help but to marvel at his abs with appreciation. beautifully prominent, sculpted not too much. you love that when you touch them, you still feel the tenderness of his flesh, so rawly and so uniquely jungkook.

“you like what you see?” he grins when your eyes meet, winking at you flirtatiously.

“i do.” you sheepishly admit, scrunching your nose before putting another slice of mango on top of your tongue. “keep going. i want to see more.”

“more? you want more?! aish- so demanding.” he complains, thick satoori accent dripping from his voice but still, he gives you more.

you giggle in satisfaction, closely observing the flexing of his muscles and the veins along his arms popping out. one must think you’re used to his tattoos by now, but you’re definitely not. you just learn how to act unaffected, like you can’t write a book of poems about how his body art never seizes to bring you in absolute awe. his eyebrows knit as he pulls himself up, face crumpling with the amount of force and strength he utilizes with every manuever. it’s a seductive scene, but then the dimples on his cheeks make fondness bloom in your heart.

for the love of god, it’s not compromising your plans, but making jungkook a part of your plans. you no longer fantasize about a perfect life. you just want to keep waking up somewhere safe— to be here, standing on the tips of your toes, planting a delicate kiss on the mole at the lower right side of his ribcage. your lips have made one too many sharp mistakes, but they ghost over his skin and he laughs. laughs so joyfully, a majestic string of musical notes from his mouth no other instrument on earth can recreate. it’s a good mistake, the best mistake you could ever possibly make.

“here, drink.“ you offer him a bottle of cold water.

“i’m so tired. oh, fuck-” he does one final pull up before letting go, deliberately falling on the sand and bumping against your feet when he rolls over.

he sits up, warm body vibrating with giggles as he looks up at you.

“did you pack a first aid kit?“

you put a hand over your hip, raising an eyebrow. “what happened now?”

“my hands-” he stares at his palms, sand coating half of the area, before showing them to you. “they sting like hell! seriously!” his little lisp slips out as he rants.

”then why did you keep going?!” you exclaim, grabbing his tattooed wrist to assess the damage. there’s no blood in sight, but his skin has turned a very bright shade of red.

“because it was fun.” he simply answers, and you can’t argue with that.

of course you brought a first aid kit. it’s a necessity, especially when you’re on vacation with your gym bunny boyfriend, apparently. while you grab the ointment in the bedroom, jungkook decides to clean himself up under the outdoor shower situated in a corner beside the swimming pool.

“what’s wrong with this? why are they going at the same time?” he scratches his head in confusion, looking up at the spraying shower head and down at the gushing faucet. he fiddles with the handle in hopes of fixing his problematic water consumption, unintentionally pushing it up higher as he does so. this causes the water pressure to become stronger, sending thin needles to crash down and pierce his fragile skin.

“aw shit-” he reflexively runs away from the rude attack of the silver device. “yah, you punk! what did i to you, huh?! how dare you-”

he clicks his tongue in irritation, resting his hands on his hips. after glaring one more time, he extends his tattooed arm to push the handle all the way down, turning it off. he proceeds to experiment, tilting it to the left, which turns on the faucet only, and then to the right for the shower.

he laughs sarcastically at his discovery, going back under the water. “ahhh, was i the stupid one?”

—

“i missed you!” he declares loudly as soon as you step out of the sliding door.

“me too, babe.” you hum as you walk towards him, standing a considerable distance from the shower.

he wipes his face with his hands to unblur his vision before pushing back his wet hair, droplets of water endlessly rushing down his body.

“why are you so far?” he protests. “come here.”

“but i already took a shower.”

“so what? you’ll get wet again when we ride the jet ski later.”

you pout at him. “i told you i’m scared.”

“i’d be jack if i have to, i won’t let you drown! don’t you trust your boyfriend, hm?” he attempts to persuade you again after failing last night, knowing well that you’d enjoy yourself only if you overcome your fear of the deep waters. “it will be fun, i promise.”

“ugh, fine. only because you promised.” you weakly succumb to his wishes, setting down the small jar of ointment on the ground.

he happily pulls you in for an embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck while your arms wrap around his waist. the only barrier between your chests is the thin and small fabric of your red bikini, thoroughly soaked by the cold water combatting the rising heat of the approaching noon. you can feel the rough grains of sand that were washed away from his skin under the soles of your feet, contrasting the feather-light kisses being scattered on your neck. and this feels so utterly liberating, you refuse for it to end, allowing yourself to be hastily pinned against the wall when his supple lips meet yours.

he cups the back of your head and his long and slender fingers dig into your hair, protecting you from accidentally hitting the hard cement. the small thoughtful gesture makes you smile into the kiss. he is not real, he can’t be. if this is a dream, you’re begging the sun to never rise. his gentle hands slowly travel down the expanse of your back, until they reach your hips, teasingly tugging past the side straps of your bikini bottoms before kneading the soft flesh of your ass. he swallows the strangled whine that escapes you, slipping his tongue past your parted lips. he’s addicted to how your body language speaks to him when you get intimate, how you lovingly caress his face and his arms, slow and sensual, but then unconsciously dig your nails to mark crescent moons on his skin when you begin getting lost in your combined passion.

he wants this. he wants you. he wants to spend the rest of his life kissing you and wringing the water from your hair.

—

you’ve deserted the log to comfortably sit cross-legged with jungkook on the lounge chair, under the shade of the brown umbrella rooted in the soil.

“mhmmm! it’s so delicious!” jungkook carefully dips the slice of mango in the salt once more, wary of the ointment from his hand smearing on the food, before muching on it eagerly. “so crunchy!”

you pause from tending to his left hand, looking at the plate between the two of you to learn that he is nearly finished with the second mango. you only have one left.

“damn!” he dramatically curses with his eyes squeezed shut, punching the salt air. without context, a stranger would probably guess that he tragically lost a bet or remembered an embarrassing memory from highschool. but really, he’s just enjoying some pretty good food. this is the fourth time in the past five minutes that he precisely did the same thing, and yes, you’ve been counting.

“is it that yummy?” you chuckle, extremely endeared and contented when he looks this excited around food. he is the only person in the world who can make you say i’m full just by watching you eat and mean it.

“it was your idea!” he bobs his head while energetically rocking from side to side, cheeks round and full as he chews. “i haven’t eaten something new in a long time. i love it… i should give the resort five stars for my review. just for this. i’ll say i’ll come back again for the mango tree.”

“or i don’t know, we can just plant one ourselves.” you propose before lightly blowing on his inflamed palm.

“but, baby, that would take years!” he interjects. “we need to buy another house, one with a backyard, and wait at least five years for it to grow. i’ll be thirty-two by then. are you hearing that?!”

the disgusted look on his face elicits a burst of amused laughter from you, stomach hurting with a reason miles better than earlier’s. he winces at the thought of entering his 30’s in the very near future. it feels odd to think about, but it’s a little less daunting with the tree added to the picture.

he picks up the final slice on the plate, smothering it with a thin layer of salt before devouring it entirely. he whimpers, high-pitched and wide-eyed, clasping his hand over his mouth before the other one you’re holding slips away from the solace of your care. he free falls from the chair, limply collapsing on the sand. and just like that, he’s covered in them again, from his damp hair down to his wiggly toes.

you move closer to look at him, dangling your legs on the edge. “darling, you’re still alive, aren’t you?”

he spreads out his limbs like a starfish, dreamily peering into the vast cloudy sky. “oh? i think this is exactly what it means to be alive.”

beyond his words, it’s the way he said them. without shyness, without qualms, without pondering. it makes him sound purely sincere, his mellifluous voice gracefully echoing louder than the nihilistic thoughts in your head, and you believe him.

he abruptly sits up, crawling on his knees to reach you. “baby! it’s too good! i want more!” he cries out, feigning desperate sobs as he hugs your legs. “i want more. let’s eat the third one, please.”

“fuck, okay. calm down. we’ll have it.” you cackle, stroking his hair while he rests his head on your lap.

you drag the plate to your side, slicing the last mango with practiced precision and skill. he, then, closes his eyes and bathes in your presence, his warm breath fanning you. it’s peacefully silent for a while, only the sounds of the knife dragging across the fruit and the waves chasing each other to the edge of the sea can be heard. that is until your boyfriend grows bored. he puckers his lips to brush against your soft skin, insatiable, climbing higher and higher until he’s peppering your inner thigh with kisses.

tingling sensations inevitably spark in your lower region, and you click your tongue to rebuke him. “jungkook, behave. i might cut myself if you keep that up.”

his lips curve into a naughty smirk, shifting a bit further down. “sorry.”

“do you want to get sunburnt? get back up here, on the chair.” you bounce your legs to shake him off, but your efforts prove to be fruitless.

he groans, stubbornly holding on to you tighter. “no, i don’t want to.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 11

The second one for today. Steve and Eddie have an actual conversation about their wants and needs from the relationship.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Eddie laughed when Steve explained the reason for the flowers that night over drinks. “Do you really think your parents will leave you alone now?”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But they’ll fuck off for awhile at least. And honestly you can’t buy that kind of peace.”

He smiled. “Damn straight. My own dear ole dad came out of the woodwork when Corroded Coffin hit it big. Tried to take credit for teaching me to play guitar.”

Steve leaned forward, chin on his fist. “I’m guessing that’s nowhere near what actually happened?”

“Oh hell no,” Eddie scoffed. “He taught me how to hotwire cars, blend into crowds to get away from cops, and how to lie through your teeth so convincingly that no one could tell. But you want to know who did teach me how to play? My Uncle Wayne. The man who took me in when the cops finally caught up with the rat bastard.”

Steve sighed wistfully. “God, what I would have given to have an Uncle Wayne. But sadly, when the test came back as infertile all they could think about was how to ‘recoup the loss of having an omega for a son’.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I wish I was,” Steve said mournfully, shaking his head. “Most of the men on my dad’s side of the family were alphas and if they weren’t then they were omegas pumping out babies like a machine.”

Eddie winced and took Steve’s free hand in his. “I’m sorry, baby. That’s got have been so hard.”

Steve squeezed Eddie’s hand with a sigh. “The disappointment was so palpable in that doctor’s office you could cut it with a knife.” He shook his head. “They even refused further testing, even though my great-great grandmother on my mother’s side was a golden omega.”

“Really?” Eddie said, his eyebrows shooting up. “Damn. Those are super rare.”

Steve nodded. “I have two friends with red hair and that’s more common than a golden omega.”

“But if they were so desperate for money why didn’t they test for it?” he asked gently.

Steve shrugged. “My dad is a skinflint. The cost of the test outweighed the gamble on my chance of being ultra-fertile instead.”

“Damn just think you could have had your choice of any alpha in the country,” Eddie teased, “if they had and you turned out to be one.”

Steve shook his head, wrapping Eddie’s hand in both of his. “Nah, I prefer it this way, I have a job I love, a best friend I couldn’t live without and you. If I had been a golden omega, my parents would have made me chose from the crustiest, conservative assholes they could find.”

Eddied ducked his head and blushed to the roots of his hair. “So I’m assuming the label sent you a copy of the interview today?” he asked shyly.

Steve nodded. “Of course. You were so cute.”

“So call me stupid,” he said clearing his throat, “but I didn’t know escorts were allowed partners. I looked it up, a couple even have bonds. Like how the fuck does that work?”

Steve laughed bright and clear and Eddie went to remove his hand from his, but Steve held on tight.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, babe,” Steve soothed. “I was laughing because Robin thought that you weren’t aware and told me to clear it up with you. That was the main reason for drinks tonight.”

Eddie blinked at him owlishly. “Wait, really?”

“Of course,” Steve said. “But to answer your question about how omegas with bondmates can still be escorts, you forget that a lot of what we do isn’t about sex. Everyone associates escorts with sex, but that’s just a common misconception. Sometimes people just want the attention of a kind omega with no strings attached.” He kissed Eddie’s knuckles gently. “And then there are the ones that want a ‘cheating’ scenario without the drama of actually cheating.”

Eddie frowned. “So how does that work?”

“They want to have sex with a bonded omega,” Steve explained. “But without having to worry that there would an actual alpha gunning for them.”

“And their alpha doesn’t care they’re having sex with other alphas?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes gentle and curious, not judging.

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Things can change, of course. A famous Starcourt escort Mia Sanchez retired last year because her alpha asked her to. But they had been bonded for fifteen years before retirement.”

“Huh.”

That filled Eddie with a warmth he didn’t know he was missing until that moment. He licked his bottom lip slowly.

“And if I wanted to properly court you,” he asked easily, “what would you say to that?”

Steve grinned back at him. “I’d say yes.”

Eddie leapt from his seat and came around the table to kiss him firmly on the lips.

Steve laughed, breaking the kiss, but Eddie didn’t mind. He couldn’t be happier.

“So you don’t want me to chose between you and my job, then?” Steve asked, referring to their contract.

Eddie shook his head. “If there was a way that you could be happy with both, darlin’, that was choice I was always going to make.”

“What about the Grammy’s and your rut?” Steve asked, concerned. He felt bad, but he still wanted to get paid for those things. He didn’t want to suddenly have Eddie expect them for free now that they were courting.

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” Eddie murmured into his omega’s ear. “The contract will still be for those things, we just won’t have a fake break up of our fake relationship after my rut.”

Steve’s lip wobbled. “Would it be a real break up of a real relationship?” he asked softly.

Eddie pulled him in for a big hug. “Not for all the gold in all the world. Okay?”

He let out a shuddering breath. “I’m okay with that.”

Eddie kissed him again before going back to sit down in his chair. “So for the Grammy’s I looked over those two outfits you sent me for suggestion on what you should wear.”

Steve smiled, grateful for the change of topic to something safer and more comfortable for him. “Yeah, which one did you prefer? I mean, I have closet full of amazing clothes and if nothing suits your fancy...” he half shrugged, “it gives me chance to go shopping.”

Eddie laughed. “No, no. I loved them both. Though taking you shopping has it’s appeal...” He shook his head. “I’m getting off the track here. I want you to wear the mini to the awards and the pant suit to the Vanity Fair after party.”

Steve’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and he grinned. “That is a fantastic idea. I love it.”

“I thought you’d like that,” Eddie said with a grin. “Do you get to wear much stuff that’s just for you or do you have to be ‘Starcourt Escort’ twenty four seven?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s a bit half and half if I’m honest. I don’t have to be dressed to the nines all the time...”

“But if you don’t,” Eddie said with a growl, “all the tabloids say that you’re ‘letting yourself go’?”

Steve blushed and nodded.

“What would you want to wear if you weren’t ‘escort Steve’?” Eddie asked, motioning to the waiter that they needed another round.

“It’s stupid,” he said, tucking his chin tightly to his chest. “I’m a fashion plate. That’s what I’m supposed to be.”

Eddie clicked his tongue and wagged his finger. “None of that. I won’t let anyone talk shit about my boyfriend, not even himself.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “I like the polos, Henley’s, and chinos look. Lame I know.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. That was not the answer he had expected at all. He thought it would have been sweat pants and baggy sweaters.

“It’s not lame if it makes you feel good about yourself,” he insisted.

Another couple of bottles of beer arrived and Steve grabbed one. He just held it in his hands. He let out a long sigh.

“You know how we can roleplay situations for clients?”

Eddie nodded. They had done the meet-cute in a bar roleplay just last night.

“There’s one you won’t find on my list,” he continued. “At least not anymore.”

Eddie could feel the tension build between them. Whatever this was about was fucking hard for Steve to talk about.

“Sometimes busy executives and business owners like to have a scenario where they come home to a cute little omega housewife. If it’s a female omega, think the 1950s type. Dresses and high heels.”

And suddenly what Steve was talking about hit Eddie like a fist to the solar plexus. Male omegas would be in the polos and chinos. But the roleplay had tainted Steve’s love for those kinds of clothes and it made Eddie furious.

“And if you’re seen out and about wearing them,” he guessed, “people think you’re doing the roleplay, don’t they?”

Steve flushed in shame. He nodded once.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Are you sure you like this job?”

Steve’s head snapped up. “Yes! The good far out weighs the bad. Like ruts without an omega can actually fuck up an alpha body. Like completely wreck it to hell. So I get to go in and help these alphas that don’t have an omega they can trust and help them through one of the worst weeks of their year and that it happens multiple times, anywhere from three to five depending on their age. Yes, I’m trained to be charming and great in bed, but that? That’s what makes everything worth while.”

He was panting at the end of his rant, eyes wild, hands clutching Eddie’s fiercely.

Eddie chuckled. “All right, darlin’. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Steve ducked his head and Eddie gently lifted it back up with two fingers. “I like that you’re passionate about what you love, honey. It makes you sparkle.”

Steve looked down at his watch and cursed. “I’ve got to go.” He looked back up at him. “But I’ll see you on Friday?”

Eddie grinned. “It’s a date, sweetheart.”

Steve hopped off his seat and walked away.

Eddie shook his head and murmured, “Hate to see you leave, but damn do I love to watch you go.”

Steve ass looked amazing in whatever the guy wore. But now Eddie understood his need for hyper-masculinity. Even when he was wearing that golden dress, it highlighted his flat chest and broad thighs.

People made assumptions about who Steve was based on what he was wearing at all times and if he was even the slightest bit not what people expected he got hell for it.

In a lot of ways, Steve’s every move was even more scrutinized than Eddie’s and he was the frontman of a very famous metal band. He couldn’t imagine living the way Steve did. But despite all the hang ups and downsides, Steve was happy and you really couldn’t buy that.

He paid the tab and walked out onto the pavement. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. He let out the smoke slowly and flicked away the ash.

Eddie was content with his lot in life for the first time since he moved in with his uncle, Wayne. Wayne was always supportive of whatever Eddie wanted to do in life and was happy to hear about Steve.

And even happier when Eddie had called him this afternoon to tell him Stevie might agree to date without all the hoopla of the agency. Everything Eddie did, Wayne was sure to hear about it first.

Wayne was home. No matter the distance. Something Eddie never thought he’d find out here in California.

Stevie was quickly becoming home for him. He never thought he would want to mate, not after seeing how horrible his parents acted. But now?

Now he couldn’t wait to start courting the most beautiful omega in the world.

Eddie took another drag of his cigarette and then flicked it away. He hailed a cab and gave directions for home.

He couldn’t wait to show Steve off on live television. And maybe just maybe win a Grammy or two.

****

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf @melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth

[watermelonlovershigh]

Makeup💄/blurb/

AN: here's a little surprise blurb i've wrote. i hope you like this concept and enjoy reading. keep in mind the harry in this isn't our famous harry so any talks of his sexuality is fake for the story. it's also kinda short but still worth the read. xoxo

This stories contains: talks of breaking gender norms, talks of fluid sexuality, fluff

{ boyfriendrry - soft!harry - any harry era of your choice - au harry }

word count- 791

As Harry watches you do your makeup for a night out, he finally shares his desire to wear makeup too when you gently coax it out of him.

You were sitting at your vanity doing your makeup while your boyfriend Harry sat on the edge of the bed watching you. You were going out to a local club tonight and wanted to dress sexy for the occasion.

When you began to apply some silver glitter over the tops of your pink eyelids, you notice Harry shifting closer to you, as if he's really studying how you apply your products. You've noticed a few times now that when you're doing your makeup around Harry, he always watches you closely and you find it quite adorable.

But this time, as you glance to the side and look at your boyfriend, he seems nervous. Fiddling with his ringed fingers and moving his mouth like he's wanting to say something but can't find the words.

"Is something wrong, H?" you question carefully.

Harry hesitates before stuttering, "Um, it's just, um. Nevermind actually."

You stop doing your makeup completely so he has your undivided attention and take a wild guess as to what he's wanting to say, or more so, ask. "Harry, by any chance did you want me to put some makeup on you? Because if you did want to wear some, that's fine."

Relief washes over him when you guess correctly. For a while now Harry's had this want to try out and wear some makeup. Not everyday or just anywhere. But to the club or a party, he would fancy a little color and sparkle to his face. He's just been afraid to ask because he was scared you'd judge him.

Nodding his head, Harry replies, "Yes please."

His answer has a soft smile take over your face. You stand up from your vanity chair and walk over until you're stood in front of Harry's legs. "Baby, why didn't you tell me you wanted to wear some makeup? I wouldn't have cared. I think you'd look fantastic with a bit of shimmer on your eyes and rouge on your cheeks."

Looking up, Harry answers sadly, "It's just, I thought you'd judge me. I know anyone can wear makeup and it's not just for girls but, I didn't know if you thought that way. I only fancy wearin' some when we go out on the towns. Not everyday or anythin'."

"That's fine, Harry," you began, "I'd never judge you for wanting to wear makeup sometimes. And you're right, makeup is not just for the girls and the gays. Anyone can wear makeup if they want, okay."

Giggling, Harry says back, "Okay, but I am a little gay aren't I...."

You can't help but giggle back at his words. What he means is that his sexuality is fluid and he told you early on in your relationship that he wasn't straight. Harry was equally as nervous to disclose his sexaulity to you as he was minutes ago, admitting he would like to wear some makeup. But you knew him wanting to wear makeup had nothing to do with his sexuality. Unlike what stereotypes have you believe.

"Alright, go sit on my vanity chair and pick out what color of eyeshadow you want to wear. And pick out a glitter if you want a touch of that as well." Harry listens to your instructions and picks out the colors and shimmers he'd enjoy wearing tonight.

He chose a bright blue for his lids because he said it would pair well with his outfit. Then requested just a small dusting of your silver glitter to complement the blue shadow. You stood in front of Harry and he relaxed as you took your brushes and did your magic.

To pull this look together, you add a little mascara and some coal liner in his waterline. Then apply a clear lip gloss over his perfectly shaped lips. Harry struggled a bit when you applied the mascara, saying it felt like you were poking his eye out. And when you were finished, he kept blinking, not quit use to having eye makeup on.

"Okay, all done." you announce with a clap. "Did you want anything on your face like foundation or concealer or just this for now?"

Harry studies his face in the mirror ahead and decides, "This is all f'now. Wow, do I look stunnin'. Thank you, m'love. And thank you for not judgin' me."

Looking down at his face slightly, you reply, "Of course, H. I'd never judge you. You can wear all the makeup you want. Or if you ever fancy wearing a dress or heels, I'd never judge you for that either."

Smiling, Harry responds, "Only time I've ever had the desire to wear a dress and heels is maybe for a Halloween costume. But if that changes, I'll let you know."

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[verysium]

if you had to associate a city from the world w any bllk character of your liking which cities with who and why? sorry for the odd question lmao it just crossed my mind. love ur works btw!💗

i love unconventional questions like these cus then i have to really think hard to come up with a good answer. i will admit i am slightly biased because i feel that the current teams they play for already represent them well, so some of these might be a repeat. also i am not that well-travelled (wish i could if i had the money), so i'm merely going off the reputed description of each city.

rin would be paris. i know it sounds unoriginal, but pxg rin has already grown 10x prettier than he was during the u-20 arc, so something in that city air must be doing him right. also i feel like he just dresses like a stereotypical european lol. the winter coat and scarf combo plus the perpetual scowl on his face. he probably walks super quickly down the metro too. i have this fic in the drafts where rin and reader meet up at his shitty parisian apartment and eat hotpot and smoke cigs on a random sidewalk in winter. rin is also high class. it just comes naturally to him. like if u ever take a walk near place charles de gaulle (the arc de triomphe area), there's this quiet luxury that is prominent in the fancy hotels and brand stores that make up the vicinity. even better if u go during christmas time because they have these intricately detailed light fixtures. i remember seeing this one cartier store with a giant glittering jaguar on the front. not to mention their swarovski christmas tree. rin's like that. i feel like in a few years once he goes fully professional, the media would go wild over his poise and refined grace. he just has that subtly enticing aura, like a silent glamour.

sae would be madrid. not just because it's canon but also because i feel like the city is just the polar opposite of him. madrid is one of the hottest cities in europe, and sae's just perpetually cold. even in the literal sense, i feel like he would have cold hands and feet too. if u see those wes anderson style travel commercials of madrid, it's always some variation of pastel houses, sunshine, and bikini beaches. that is exactly what sae is not like. i also chose this for...*ahem* spoiler reasons in my upcoming fic chapter which i'm not going to delve too much into. but the gist is that the contrast is why sae fits so well in madrid and also why it's a bit tragic to see how drastically he has to change in order to adapt to a new environment. if not spain, i feel like he'd still end up somewhere with a large coastline because of how fundamental the sea is to him throughout his childhood. it's sort of his safe space. if i had the choice to assign two cities, i'd also include his hometown of kamakura since he seems like the type to be secretly sentimental. i picture sae as someone who values his roots even though he constantly says he has bigger and better places to be. like he would tell everyone that he was born in the wrong country but then proceed to sigh melodramatically whenever he actually misses home.

kaiser is a weird mix of munich, new york, and las vegas. i chose munich largely because of his german roots. i also picture him as bavarian. new york and las vegas are mostly attributed to the duality of his character. when we first see kaiser, he's this figure of flamboyance. his entrance was hands-down the most theatrically dramatic one, and there are theatre motifs throughout his dialogue (eg. roles on a stage, rejecting yoichi's script/play). i feel like this would fit well with the extravagant nightlife las vegas is known for and, of course, broadway in NYC. furthermore, kaiser is this prime example of clawing your way to the top. he seems charismatic and welcoming at first, but then we see his internal motives and well...it's something. he is cutthroat when it comes to competition, and he's not afraid of using others in his ascent to the top. i mean...he literally holds people by the hair as if they're mere objects. that seems pretty ruthless and machiavellian to me. i doubt he even humanizes any of his rivals; rather, he views them as opponents to his ideology. there's also a reason why they say if you make it in new york, you can make it anywhere. there's a highly individualistic mindset, and if you really want something, the resources are there for you to achieve it. kaiser is like that in the sense he is willing to put his all into getting something he desires, even up to an obsessive degree.

yukimiya is london. like u know what taylor swift said about the english? that's yukimiya for you. he treats his mother right, sleeps 8 hours a day, and said his first love was when his friend's 16-year-old sister kissed him on the forehead. he cannot be any more perfect. not to mention he's a literal model. like hello? IMG is calling.

shidou is somewhere in ohio. i'm not going to elaborate. the man's just weird.

isagi is somewhere rural. idk why but he strikes me as a country boy. probably helps his parents on the rice farm and bikes long distances to school. i found a lot of parallels between him and hinata shoyo from haikyu mostly because they're both from a smaller, lesser known neighborhood, have a pretty ordinary childhood, and become inspired by this influential role model. my secondary reason is just that isagi doesn't seem like he'd even be familiar with the urban landscape. he's lived his life in humble origins, so i think there might be some culture shock once he actually gets to the city. like...boy was genuinely amazed when he entered that blue lock facility. never seen so much high-end equipment and technology in his life.

ego lives in a sewer. i cannot tell u his precise location just that he probably hasn't washed his hair in 45 days and is still surviving off processed ramen noodles. please pray for him.

barou is los angeles and if not socal, then he's from the bay area. i took one good look at his artificially dyed red hair and the answer was clear. he is not immune to trends guys. it's almost embarrassing. furthermore, i think the general silicon valley area is known to be hardworking, and that encapsulates barou pretty well. he is disciplined to the core, and he knows that success is not going to come to him without him actively trying to reach it. he's also...(let's be real guys)...just a teensy weensy bit arrogant. he calls himself a king, as in a literal monarch. and he says this in the most serious tone too. now he rightfully earned that title, but it doesn't erase the secondhand cringe i felt from reading that dialogue LOL.

[thedeathlysallows]

Is It Over Now? (13)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon; Aegon Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: My hand was the one you reached for

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Stockholm Syndrome, infidelity, manipulative Aegon, discussion of character death. Smut, fingering, using murder as dirty talk, hand job, public sex.

Aemma's coin has finally flipped, but where will it land? Greatness or madness?

Tag list: @callsignwidow

You aren't sure how or when it happened, but it's as though something inside you snapped, slowly but surely shifted your love and loyalty from your mother to Aegon. All your plans, all the playing pretend melted away until it became your reality. When did that happen? When did you become so pathetic? Was it the abject horror of seeing Aemond loving another woman in Harrenhal? Or were you always this weak?

"You seem deep in thought." Aegon looks down at you, head tilted slightly so that the rubies of the Conqueror's crown glitter in the sunlight.

"I suppose," you respond dully.

He hums in annoyance before looking away abruptly. You aren't sure why he insists on walking with you through the gardens, but it was the one reprieve he allowed after your escape. You're kept under a smothering watch at all times now except for when Aegon fetches you for your daily walk. He never lets you go with guards. It has to be him, and you just don't understand it.

Annoyance rises in you, bitter and dark. "I don't understand!"

"What don't you understand?"

Lots of things. You don't understand lots of things, but you don't want to discuss the complicated relationship between the two of you, so you say, "You told Aemond to seduce the witch. Why? Why would you do that?"

Aegon tosses his head back and laughs. "Is that what the bastard told you? And he says I'm the degenerate one."

"Aegon, this isn't the time for jokes. I want the truth." You turn to him fully and he's struck suddenly by the fire in your eyes. It's been so long since he's seen it he thought you'd given up your spark completely.

But of course not.

Of course your fire is still there because his is still there.

Aegon still burns every second of every day for you. The two of you are the last flickering twin flames of Old Valeyria, meant to merge together and raze down everything standing in its way. He loves you, desires you, needs you more than Aemond possibly could.

"You want the truth, my little dragon?" He steps closer to you, following as you move away from him. "I'll give you the truth, but I want you to remember that it was I to do so... not Aemond."

You suck in a deep breath, overwhelmed by Aegon's presence crowding you against a tree. Rough bark bites into your exposed back and arms. Suddenly, the gauzy dress you chose this morning doesn't feel like it covers enough.

"Aemond would never lie to me," you eventually say.

"I see. Is that why he blamed me? All I told him was to keep the witch loyal to us. I don't give a single fuck about her happiness or comfort... but Aemond does, doesn't he?" Aegon traces his thumb across your bottom lip before continuing.

"Let me guess: he told you not to worry and that she could never compare. I've told Helaena the same about my whores. I suppose, in a round about way, it's the truth. She's kinder than them, more of a proper lady. She deserves better."

You want to strike out at Aegon, your palm itches for it, but you stay still. He pets you so gently, running his hands over your body in a comforting way that brings tears to your eyes. You want to ask him why he doesn't give her better if she deserves it, but you already know the answer.

You.

Aegon has spent years pining over you, spiraling when you were taken away like some sort of toy. He's a spoiled brat. You love him anyway... but you love Aemond as well.

"Is love enough?" Your voice comes out as barely a whisper.

"Enough for what?"

"Anything." For Aemond to be loyal, but you don't say it out loud.

Aegon knows what you want to say, but won't say. He knows you better than anyone. Maybe even better than you know yourself. "Love is enough for us if you'll allow it."

Your lips curl up in a wry smile. "You're being awfully sweet today, Your Majesty."

"Maybe it's because I see where my brother is failing and I decided I need to take this chance."

"Failing on your orders."

"Not my orders. I never told him to fuck her, but we both know that's what he's doing." Aegon presses his lips to yours, hot and persistent. "Don't you want revenge, little dragon?"

Yes.

Yes, you do want revenge.

You want blood and revenge and for this foreign anger inside you to end.

Aegon's lips trail from your lips to the column of your neck, teeth sinking into your skin every so often while his hands grip your waist. He grinds into you and you feel the delicious drag of his hard cock between your thighs. "I have plenty of information from the witch. So much that her life means nothing to me now. You could kill her if you wanted."

Kill her?

"H-have you ever killed anyone?" The idea makes you nervous, but it's hard to concentrate on those nerves when Aegon's hands are slowly bunching your dress around your waist.

"Yes. Would you like to hear about it?" He nips at your ear, chuckling darkly when you yelp. Two of his fingers circle your clit before dipping into your cunt and he moans when he finds you absolutely soaking wet.

You nod, letting out a little whimper. "Yes... please..."

"Mmm, good girl." Aegon pumps his fingers in and out of you at a punishing pace. "It's better than any drunken high, any fuck... it's... ah, fuck, yes..."

Aegon's head falls to your shoulder when your hand slips inside his trousers to stroke his length. You wrap a leg around his waist, silently begging him to go deeper.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes against your skin. "Such a good little whore for me. D'you like this? Like me fucking you in public?"

You do. You really, really do.

"Say it," he demands, wrapping a hand around your throat. "Say how much you like it."

"Aegon... please... I love it."

"Say you love me."

You nod. "I love you!"

Aegon's grin is almost terrifying when he says, "I want to watch you kill Alys Rivers."

The pleasure that had been building in the pit of your stomach crests and washes over the rest of you, leaving you to spasm around Aegon's thick fingers. He kisses you all over as he reaches his own orgasm, spilling into your hand.

"Good girl," Aegon whispers into your hair. "Fuck, you're so good for me. We need to remind Aemond how good you are, yeah?"

That's all you really want, you think to yourself. You just want to be good for the people who love you. That's all you ever wanted.

[cuffmeinblack]

From the prompt list

13,18 with Ominis?

A certain necklace of a certain aunt Noctua being gifted to a certain someone as a token of love and to remind others to back off?

Parting gift

Ominis Gaunt x gn!reader

Tags: fluff

850 words

"oh, shit. I'm in love with you??" prompt: 18. having them give something of importance to them for you, as a gift

A/n: Thank you for the prompt (and the gif)! I chose 18 for this one. He's a bloody romantic and you can't stop meeeeeeeeeeee.

Ominis had been acting strangely as you approached the end of your time at Hogwarts. The way he'd fiddle with his wand and become lost in thought couldn't be attributed to your examinations now that they were over. He'd secured a job, all was well, so why was he so distracted?

The nervous energy that radiated off of him was catching and set you on edge when you were alone with him. More often than not, you'd end up watching his movements, occasionally losing yourself in his turbulent eyes, wondering just what was bothering him.

You'd tried to ask him, of course, but he'd so far managed to brush off your enquiries. Even Sebastian had thus far been unable to draw an answer out of him. Perhaps a drop of veritaserum in his morning tea would loosen his tongue, you thought idly.

When finally he admitted what he'd been ruminating, it was the last day of term. Celebrations were being had all about the castle and tearful goodbyes exchanged. You had promised to write to Sebastian, as often as you could whilst you were travelling, earning you a heartfelt embrace, but the words didn't seem to elicit the same response from Ominis.

"I'm...not thrilled at the prospect of you being alone on your travels," he admitted.

"Are you worried? I'm more than capable of facing whatever is out there."

Ominis shook his head, whether in disbelief or to convey a misunderstanding, you weren't sure. His hand delved into the coat of his blazer, pulling out a familiar silver chain, draped over his delicate fingers. After a second of contemplation as he brushed the locket with his thumb, he held it out in the palm of his hand.

"Take this with you. For me?"

Reaching forward, you picked up the delicate chain, ignoring the flutter in your chest as you brushed his warm skin. It was beautiful, understated and too precious for you to keep.

"This was your aunt's? I can't take this, Ominis."

"Why ever not? Please, I wish you to have it."

The large opal in the centre of the locket glittered in the waning light, and you turned it over to run your fingers over the Gaunt family crest with a sigh. Returning your gaze to your dear friend, you noticed he finally seemed at peace; his hands clasped in front of him and face relaxed with no hint of a frown.

He been so eager to gift this to you, for reasons you couldn't fathom. His cloudy blue eyes held no answers, but you searched them anyway as your heart raced and a blush crept onto your cheeks. Ominis had always been generous in how he bestowed thoughtful gestures, though you now realised that you'd been their only recipient.

"This is...this is a family heirloom, Ominis. I know you don't care much for your family traditions but..."

"That is exactly the point, you see. I had hoped that one day you...," he trailed off, seemingly unable to finish his train of thought. "Take it with you, so that perhaps you might think of me. When you return I'll be waiting. You may return it then, unless of course you'd prefer not to."

You almost laughed at the thought of needing a trinket to think of him. You'd be thinking of him regardless, though you were no longer sure exactly how. Was he just a friend if the thought of being apart from him illicited such a deep sense of dread? That the jewellery now clasped tightly in your palm radiated comfort and quelled the longing which you already anticipated?

He cared enough to give you something so precious, which spoke volumes of his character and how he really felt for you. You'd been blind to his affections until this moment, and the sharp inhale of breath you took as the realisation hit you sent a ripple through the air between you.

"Do you understand?" Ominis asked quietly.

"Yes, I do."

You stepped towards him, gently brushing the back of his hand as he tilted his head towards the sound of your heavy breathing. Picking up his his hand, you turned it over and placed the locket in his palm, a pained expression crossing his face until you spoke.

"Could you help me put it on?"

Ominis smiled in relief, feeling the chain to find the delicate clasp as you turned to face away from him, exposing your neck. His featherlight touch glided over your exposed skin, tracing your spine before circling around to the side as he brought the necklace in front of you. Your fingertips glided over the opal as it lay perfectly just below your collarbone, turning back towards Ominis and gasping at how close he'd become.

"Ominis, I don't need this to think of you, but I'll take it with me," you whispered.

"Thank you. It's comforting to know you'll have something of me."

"May I ask for something else to take with me?" you asked, a sudden boldness overcoming you.

"Of course, what is it?" Ominis replied, tilting his head in question.

"A kiss."

[james-is-here]

This inspired what you're about to read

Mn always came home to a dark apartment. It wasn't that he disliked light; he just often worked late and by the time he got home, he was too tired to bother with the small effort of turning on the lights immediately. The familiarity of his surroundings in the dim glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains was usually enough to guide him. But tonight, as he fumbled for the switch, he felt a strange twinge of unease.

Click.

As the light flickered on, Mn nearly jumped out of his skin. Sitting silently on the couch, shrouded in darkness, was Minho. Mn's heart pounded against his ribs.

"Minho! What the-?" Mn's voice came out as a yell. He clutched his chest, trying to steady his breath. "Why are you just sitting here in the dark?"

Minho didn't answer immediately. He stood up slowly, his expression unreadable, and began walking towards Mn. The kitchen light behind Mn flickered off abruptly, plunging them into near darkness again. Mn sighed heavily, turning back towards the kitchen.

"Hold on, let me fix that," Mn muttered, stepping away to flick the switch again. But before he could, the room was plunged into pitch darkness.

When the light snapped back on, Minho was gone. Instead, a glittering cloud of black smoke hung in the air where he had been. Mn’s unease turned into a cold spike of fear.

"Minho?" Mn whispered, his voice shaking.

A tap on his shoulder made him whirl around, heart in his throat. There, standing behind him, was Seungmin.

"Seungmin! Where- where did Minho go?" Mn stammered.

Before Seungmin could answer, the kitchen light flickered again. In Seungmin's place was Minho, his expression still calm but now with a hint of mischief in his eyes. Mn's fear escalated to panic, and he stumbled back, only to bump into Seungmin again.

Mn's legs gave way, and he tripped over his own feet, falling into the living room. His eyes darted between his boyfriends, who now stood side by side, their forms flickering with each intermittent flash of the light.

"What is happening?" Mn demanded, his voice cracking. "Explain yourselves right now!"

Minho and Seungmin exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them before they turned back to Mn.

"Mn," Minho began gently, "we need to explain something to you."

"We're Fadewalkers," Seungmin continued. "We, and some of our friends, have this ability to move through shadows and flicker between places almost instantaneously."

Mn stared at them, his mind struggling to grasp the concept. "Fadewalkers?" he echoed. "What does that even mean?"

"It's a bit complicated," Minho said with a small smile. "But basically, we can manipulate shadows and darkness. It's a power we've had for as long as we can remember."

Mn took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "So, you're saying you're some sort of supernatural beings?"

"Yes," Seungmin nodded. "But we're still the same people you know and love. This is just a part of who we are."

Mn looked at them, the initial shock and fear slowly ebbing away. It was a lot to take in, but as he gazed at Minho and Seungmin, he saw the same warmth and affection in their eyes that he always had.

"Okay," Mn said finally, exhaling deeply. "I guess I can accept that. But why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"We didn't want to scare you," Minho said, stepping closer and taking Mn's hand. "We thought it was better to ease you into it."

"And you chose to do that by scaring me half to death?" Mn retorted, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

Seungmin laughed. "It's kind of a thing among us. We like to use our powers to play harmless pranks on each other."

Mn chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, you certainly succeeded in scaring me. But just so you know, if you keep this up, I might have to break up with both of you."

Minho and Seungmin laughed, and Minho pulled Mn into a warm embrace. "We'll try to keep the scares to a minimum," he promised.

"Good," Mn replied, relaxing into the hug. "Because as fascinating and interesting as Fadewalkers are, I prefer my boyfriends to be a little less ghostly."

With the light now steady, Mn felt a sense of peace settle over him. His boyfriends might have supernatural abilities, but at the end of the day, they were still his Minho and Seungmin, the same men he loved. And that was all that mattered.

[where-ismydonkey]

DCA PROMPTOBER - DAY 5

ARTISTIC LICENSE

"Looks like you've earned your artistic license, Lorelai!" Sun brought the little girl's artwork up to inspect it and declared, "I believe this shall be hung up on the wall!"

A delighted squeal brought a smile to your face as you sat between two other kids, Danny and Portia. It was the middle of the day and after some much needed nap time, you were now doing arts and crafts. So while the bot praised the children's artwork, you worked on a masterpiece of your own.

You snickered over at the animatronic, "You're so corny, you know."

"Well, now I'm offended!" he put another pom pom and glitter glue creation down into his pile to hang up later, "Very good, Leilani! We’ll put this on the wall for everybody to see!”

"Glad it came off as intended." you smiled, finishing your own glitter glue macaroni picture. Humming thoughtfully, you brought it up to inspect it flipping it around and teasing, "Oh please judge this, great one!—”

"The line art is messy, the color of glitter glue you chose clashes with the background, and your pasta is falling off! Needless to say, your application for an artistic license has been rejected, friend!" Sun put a hand on his hip, "Or should I continue?"

Damn was he a hater. Your mouth hung open, more than slightly offended. But you just tried to ignore it, huffing as you pointed behind him, "You know, some of the kids are shoving crayons up their noses."

He gasped, whipping around to shrilly scold the kids, "June, get that out of your nose! Finn, you too!"

And as he tried to wrangle the crayons from them, you smirked. Ignoring the glare he shot you, all you could was wink back at him.

You tried not to notice how suddenly flustered he was afterward.

Later in the day, after the children had been picked up, was when you could really sit back and relax. And by that you meant sit behind the security desk, surrounded by a mountain of the arts and crafts supplies as you got creative. It was a good stress reliever, to make arts to your hearts content, even though you were in the company of stress personified.

So you sat in your chair, doodling on a new sheet of paper, nothing but the small hums from the back of the room to be heard. Sun was in the process of hanging up the art he'd collected today from the children.

Wait a minute, where had you left yours from earlier?

Like magic, it had vanished when you’d went to prepare for pick ups. You just assumed one of the kids had taken it, but maybe it was just in the wrong pile?

Tilting your head, you asked, "Hey Sun, have you seen my work from arts and crafts?"

"Yes, unfortunately I did have to look at that thing.”

“Not what I meant,” you rolled your eyes, "And considering you kidnapped all the artwork from today, I just wanted to know if you had taken it."

"Well, the answer is no." he said, sticking a colorful macaroni landscape to the board.

But unable to believe him, you got up from your chair. And quickly approaching him, as he paused what he was doing to glance at you questioningly, you took the stack of work into your hands. Beginning to flip through all the art, you tried to look for yours.

Sun made a noise like he was clicking his tongue, "I already told you, it’s not in there!"

"Yeah, but I won't believe it until I see it with my two eyes," you went through a few self portraits, "So sue me."

Beside you, the bot sighed, seemingly tense as you continued to look through the pile. And you didn't understand why, until you were near the end of it.

And automatically, a coo slipped out of your mouth before you meant to, "Aw, you wanted to keep my work? And here I thought I hadn't earned my artistic license!"

Sun crossed his arms, looking away like a child being accused, "Someone must've placed it there by mistake!"

You grinned up at him and put the stack down, "Lies, you totally wanted to keep my work!"

"Not a chance, friend!”

“Okay,” you chuckled disbelievingly, beginning to walk away. And waving your artwork in the air, you were unaware of how he watched you, “Whatever you say!”

But without even noticing he’d taken it again, it was hung up on the wall the next day without a word.

—

Hiii!! wrote this before work again, and theres some formatting errors but those shall be fixed later. WAHOOO EXCITED TO CONTINUE THESE PROMPTS

[crazycurly-77]

The bet - Chapter 1 

Once again you were in the lab with Abby, because your special access to the databases of other agencies were needed. 

As always when you were working together you laughed and joked all the time. You had quite a good time together, but worked hard nonetheless. 

Mainly you were sitting in the bullpen to assist McGee, if needed. But from time to time you were to help Abby in the lab. The two of you cherished these moments, because you had so much fun together and most of the time you could work without any orders from Gibbs or the director. 

You made it a habit that everytime you work together you will bet with each other. The last time you decided on the bet and this time it was Abby's turn. She chose a really nasty one and she was laughing her ass off. 

“Abby you're mad” you laughed. 

“Nononono, I'm not. That's my getting back at you for having to wear a pink glittering gown for a whole day!”

You smirked “you didn't have to do it” 

“Yes, I had to! Because there's no way that I will go shopping with Sheila so she can talk my ears off! This bet was a real bitchy one.”

Now you laughed so hard that tears were running down your cheeks. Sheila was a really nice girl, but she definitely talked too much. 

In fact she was a real wonder, because she seemed to be able to talk all the while without needing any breath of air. Fascinating. 

Abby grinned at you and you saw her imaginary devil's horns coming out of her head. Then she began slowly to talk

“since you presented me with such a mean bet, here's my revenge. You have to kiss Gibbs. If you do it, I won't drink any Caf-Pow for a day. If you don't, you have to watch all three Godfather movies in one go with Tony.”

You were shocked and your blood froze “that's a joke. You can't be serious.”

“Oh yes, I'm dead serious. That's the bet!” 

You blanched and your thoughts were racing. There was no way that you would survive a whole movie night with Tony watching these films. He will say every word that is said in the film and drive you crazy. 

The other option was not better in any way. Kissing your sexy silver fox boss on whom you had a crush on…that would be so embarrassing!

“That's not funny. You know exactly that I wouldn't survive watching these films with Tony!” you tried to argue. 

She smirked widely “yeah, I know. That's why I chose it.”

“Why? Because you wanted to see me dead or arrested for killing him?” you grumbled. 

“No, I want you to kiss Gibbs” she laughed. “And just to be clear: you have to kiss him fully on the mouth. A kiss on the cheek or somewhere else doesn't count.”

You looked at her absolutely dumbfounded and could only speak one word “why?” 

“I have my reasons.”

“Are you insane?” 

Before Abby could make any noise a deep voice from behind you was heard “do you want any answer to your question?” 

Gibbs strolled into the lab and stood right behind the two of you. 

He was in so close proximity that you could smell the sawdust, the coffee he was holding and himself. 

Abby grinned at you and you closed your eyes taking a deep breath to compose yourself. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would jump out of your chest at any moment. 

The challenge from Abby did nothing to sooth you. No, on the contrary. It caused you to nearly jump out of your skin hearing him so near and him being so near that his shoulder was touching yours so that your hands began to sweat profusely. 

“Whatever you two are planning…Abby, you have anything new?” he asked. 

“No, the fingerprints are not in any navy database. That's why Y/N is here. We are searching further databases and she has the access to do so.”

“Good. Phone me when you've found something,” he ordered and went to the elevator. 

“Will do!” Abby chirped and sipped on her new Caf-Pow which Gibbs brought her. 

With him being gone you let out the breath you were unknowingly holding and tried to calm down. 

“You've missed a chance” you heard Abby telling you. 

You turned around “a chance for what? Embarrassing myself and losing my job?” you were slowly getting angry because you didn't know what to do. 

“Oh! So Tony it will be?!” 

You shrugged your shoulders

“I don't know. I have to think about both options.”

“I am excited about what you will choose.”

She smirked and turned to her computer to go on with the analysis.

(To be continued...)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

Ride On - A Rio/Reader Smut Drabble.

Because my gorgeous @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna​ put this idea into my head! She did originally ask for Manny (Mayans MC) but since I pledged to write more for Rio, I chose him instead.

Words - 366

Warnings - Smut Below the cut, minors DNI!

In his every day life, Rio is boss. Unquestionably so. He’s the top dog, the one in charge, everyone answerable to him, in his position of power. And he doesn’t deviate from such a role easily. 

Unless you happen to be involved in said deviation, though. 

“You enjoying yourself there, mamas, riding on this big dick?” he pants, hands grasping your butt as you send feverish jolts through his body, rolling your hips rhythmically against him, the soaking velvet hug of your cunt sheathing him in plush heat. 

You nails graze over his short beard, trailing the eagle tattoo across his throat, nodding as you lean to kiss him. “Oh yeah, big man. You know it. How about you, hmm? You liking letting me be the boss for a while, hmm?” 

He hums a rumbling laugh, pushing you back slightly, mouth kissing a constellation across your tits. “Yeah,” he breathes, sucking on your nipple, moving his mouth to the other, bathing it in wet warmth, a hint of teeth giving just the right edge of pain to pulse through your chest. “I never mind my lady being the big boss in the bedroom.” His eyes find yours, those glittering, coal orbs looking up at you with uncontained desire, kissing you hotly, biting your lower lip and letting it glide out from between his sharp teeth. “Does the boss have any demands?”

“She does,” you confirm. “You’re gonna suck my tits while I ride this orgasm out of you.” 

He gives you a little salute. “Consider it done, darlin’.” Pushing you back again, his mouth once again finds the pebbled peaks of your nipples, sucking hard, biting, tongue swirling as you grind yourself down on the thick heat of his cock, feeling it slide effortlessly within your soaking pussy, gripping on him, evoking rumbles of pure sin from deep in his chest. 

He groans, all smoke and grit, teeth clamping on harder. “Fuck yeah, baby. God damnit, you fuck me so good.”

And that’s the job of a boss, to get things done better than anyone else. This is why Rio never, ever has any problems with letting you take charge of him from time to time. 

​

[itsohh]

Popstar MK1 Intros

A/N: Now I've finished off Electra Heart heres some intros set after it. This focus's on popstar reader being in costume when they come to fight + them still being in their relationship with Johnny.

Fighters: Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Smoke, Liu Kang, Shang Tsung

Warnings: None

Intros Part 1 Electra Heart

Johnny: Oh ho-ho-ho gotta say babe that is a great look on you. I always said that the big screen never captured how truly hot I am but I think it also applies to you.

You: Eyes up here Johnathan. I'm not a doll for you to gawk at.

Johnny: Oh fuck that's hot.

-

Johnny: After this can I eat-

You: Not another word.

-

Johnny: Ooo you're so dominant in character, should wear that to bed. I might even leave a little bit on you at the end of the night.

You: Hmp.

-

You: Wait-wait-wait. Ah fuck lemme take these heel's off I can't keep fighting in costume. This was made to sing in no fight.

Johnny: Hey, hey if your feet are hurting go for it. There's no rush, I can wait. Last thing I want is you hurting.

-

Johnny: Have you written any songs about me perhaps?

You: Oh this is kind of embarrassing, but try an album.

-

Kenshi: Flashy.

You: And impractical.

-

Kenshi: When I see you like this it really makes me realize how much you and Johnny are a match made in heaven.

You: Kenshi you're literally blind.

Kenshi: I think any blind man can see how bright the sequins are on that dress.

-

Kenshi: Why the name Nightingale?

You: It's a long story.

-

Kenshi: You always say your stage self is a character you play but I've yet to hear any difference.

You: That's ‘cause that shits embarrassing off stage. I can get away with Johnny because… I mean look at him.

-

Kenshi: Johnny said you wrote an album about him. He hasn't shut up about it.

You: Yeah might have dropped the ball confessing that one.

-

Smoke: Woah I can't believe your- woah.

You: I'm surprised you're familiar with my work actually.

Smoke: Of course, it's a bit of a guilty pleasure but I loved your second album.

-

You: You know if you're ever free your welcome to tag along to one of my concerts and hit up backstage or front row whatever you prefer.

Smoke: Really?

You: Anytime! I always let my friends hang out.

-

Smoke: Your outfit is more stunning in person than I could have possibly imagined.

You: Yeah but the glitter gets everywhere.

-

Smoke: I remember your fourth album got scrapped, how come?

You: My fucking manager rejected it. Too off brand.

-

Smoke: Johnny's always talking about bad managers, have you tried talking to him about your situation.

You: ...I haven't. My manager isn't terrible but maybe I should.

-

You: The timeline you come from, was I like this?

Liu Kang: Admittedly I didn't know you very well.

-

You: Were we not friends in your timeline? Is that why titan me didn't answer your summon?

Liu Kang: You died man years prior, you were forced to come back only to see Johnny mourning his second wife.

-

You: So me and Johnny have always been together?

Liu Kang: That I don't know.

You: Am I destined to die again? So that Johnny can remarry?

Liu Kang: That is not what I have planned for you.

-

Liu Kang: In my timeline you were always in costume. You fought dressed like this all the time.

You: Fuck that. I can barely get through one fight in these shoes.

-

You: Why change up my destiny? Why not make Johnny happy with his second wife?

Liu Kang: I didn't decide on who you should love. I might have put you in the right place at the right time but that was all you.

-

Shang Tsung: Well well, this is certainly a change.

You: Don't worry, you're still the king of costumes you fucking snake.

Shang Tsung: You wound me dear.

-

Shang Tsung: It's a shame you chose to work with these imbeciles-

You: Don't even bother trying to manipulate me. I've been in Hollywood long enough.

-

You: At least I'll look good, at least I'll look good-

Shang Tsung: What are you mumbling? Don't be afraid to speak up. I don't bite- hard.

You: THESE HEELS MIGHT HURT BUT AT LEAST ILL LOOK GOOD BEATING YOUR ASS

-

Shang Tsung: It's curious the way your people worship you, for music alone…

You: You could always give it up and come a musician instead of the whole ‘murdering everyone with souls’ thing you do.

Shang Tsung: Hahaha, you truly are an entertainer aren't you?

-

You: Let's get this over and done with.

Shang Tsung: So eager to meet your demise?

You: Had a long concert today- kinda wanna go nap.

[rjthirsty]

Hi! I'm working on prompts from this list to challenge myself in a variety of ways. I'd ultimately like to actually make a 100-word drabble, as I haven't managed that yet. A friend picked two characters, and my lovely wife chose #14. I present:

Jin and Leon in “I knew she’d never change, she was too stubborn, too similar to me.”

Leon twisted the jeweled wedding band between his fingers. When the sinking sun hit it right, the room glittered with rainbows. An awfully beautiful spectacle for what was meant as an awfully ugly message. She was gone. Emma had left. She gave up her name, title, and marriage, and disappeared into the night. Leaving Leon brooding alone with the ring that he had made so many promises on. So many promises that he couldn’t keep.

Suddenly, an empty glass appeared hazy in his line of sight, his vision adjusting to focus on it, and the recipient who he hadn’t heard enter his study. Jin opened a bottle of liquor, filling the glass on the desk, and one more that Leon hadn’t noticed. Jin silently pushed the glass towards Leon, then sipped from his own.

“Do you know where she is?” Leon locked his eyes on his older brother, the one who could get intel from just about anyone, on just about anyone.

“I wouldn’t tell you even if I did.” Jin answered.

“Jin, this is my wife we’re talking about–”

“Not anymore.” Jin nudged the glass towards Leon again.

Leon glared at Jin. He knew his anger was misplaced. He knew he was truly angry at himself, at this mess he was in, at the way everything turned out. He knew Jin was just being the brother he was, trying to help him deal and move on. But he didn’t want to move on.

“She’s gone, Leon.”

“I know! I know she is!” He growled, raising his voice to let out some of his emotions that were suffocating him, that were clouding his thoughts and casting shadows on his heart. “And I know she’s not coming back. But god dammit, Jin, I wish for once she wouldn’t be so stubborn. If she could only change, if she could just–”

“You mean like you’ve changed?” Jin kept his voice cool and even.

There it was. The shot through the heart. The reason for it all. He hadn’t really changed. He hadn’t become the man he had promised to be. He was still the same Leon. Still stubborn and still taking on everyone on his own. If he had changed… If he had simply relied on her…

“We were too similar. I know that’s why she’s gone.”