#hi i'm stressed so i made another drabble into a fic

[thiswasinevitable-rwrb]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Nora Holleran Additional Tags: Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Hitman Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Needs a Hug, Henry is still the prince, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Gay Disaster Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Bisexual Disaster Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Loss of Parent(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Mutual Pining Summary:

Acquiring the Prince of Wales’ name in his Burn Book, so to speak, had not been a surprise in Alex’s line of work. What had been a surprise, was that someone wanted the fourth in line for the throne dead.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Soft (drabble)

pairing: hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, just a smidge of smut

warnings: soft cock play, mentions of lovemaking

a/n: i'm sorry if this sucks, writer's block is being a bitch again! i'm working on the dolly fics and stressing myself out so i tried to just write something for comfort😭🫶🏻

~ Masterlist

A quiet afternoon spent in your lover's embrace is just what you needed after a hectic work week.

The outside world and all the anxieties it brings, slowly melt away into the background as you lay in your soft blankets, right next to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin is soft too, even though he's all muscle and prominent bones, to you he is soft because he brings you comfort.

He's sitting, his back against the pillows, one of his arms behind his head as the other holds the book he's reading.

Your head is on his chest as you hold your book, both of you lost in the fiction but still present enough to enjoy the quiet scene together.

Moments like this are priceless to the both of you, when you can escape everything and just be in your own little comforting bubble.

You put your book down after some time, closing your eyes as you place your hand on Hyunjin's stomach, gently caressing him.

He hums quietly and you look up at him, he's already looking at you with a sweet smile so you return the smile before closing your eyes again.

Hyunjin thinks you'll fall asleep and he doesn't mind, quite the opposite, he loves the fact that both of you are so comfortable together that you can fall asleep in each other's arms.

But you're not sleeping, you're admiring your lover, fingertips caressing the exposed skin of his navel, where his shirt rode up.

You play with the happy trail leading to his sweatpants and Hyunjin shivers a little but keeps reading, the hand that was behind his head is now tangled in your hair as he cards his fingers through it gently.

You love every part of Hyunjin, in any shape or form, you'd told him that a hundred times, your lips have worshipped every inch of his skin countless time as his did with yours, never tired of sharing the love you feel for each other.

You slide down further to rest your cheek against his stomach, sliding his shirt up a little before you nose at his skin and leave a few gentle kisses.

Hyunjin giggles quietly and you look up at him again.

"Just do your thing." you nod at the book and he rolls his eyes playfully before returning his attention to it.

You keep caressing his smooth skin, staring at the bulge that's visible in his sweat pants even when he isn't hard.

You know he's not wearing any boxers, you'd fallen into each other's embrace and made love this morning, and after another round in the shower, your lover didn't bother to put any underwear on.

Mindlessly, your hand slides into his pants and you grab his soft cock, squeezing it a little.

"What are you doing?" Hyunjin chuckles, his legs jolting a little.

"It's just comforting like this." you hold him, running your fingertips gently on the softness.

"Really? But it's soft..." Hyunjin looks a bit embarassed as you look up at his rosy cheeks.

"Mhm. It's cute." your fingers slide down to his balls.

"You did not just call my dick cute." Hyunjin laughs a little as you gently grab his balls and giggle.

"Stress relief." you smirk and he laughs again.

"I'm glad they help you relieve stress but if you keep doing that, it's not gonna stay soft." he smirks at you and you giggle.

"So what?" you wiggle your eyebrows, fingers wrapping around his soft cock again, feeling it twitch a little.

"You wanna go for round three?" he plays with your hair, his loving eyes filling up with lust slowly.

"Maybe." you tease, feeling him grow in your hand as you move it ever so gently.

"Come here, you little tease." he beckons you with his finger and a smirk and you roll your eyes playfully before releasing him as you scoot closer to him.

Hyunjin grabs your face gently pulling you in to crash his lips against yours, giving you a kiss full of love and desire his heart has only for you.

His arms wrap around you as he easily pulls your body on top of his.

You can feel him pressed against your thigh, now hot and hard, wanting you.

He flips you over and smirks.

"Round three it is then."

Later, when he's buried deep inside you, his tip brushing against your cervix, he will ask you if you still think his cock is cute.

You'll say yes just to tease him, and in that moment of intimacy you will laugh together, completely carefree and infatuated with each other as you exchange words of love.

At the end everything will become soft again, gentle and delicate, just like loving Hyunjin is.

-

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @jeonginslefthand @porangporangmeong @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana

[captain-huggy-bear]

Wait.. how was teacher y/n feeling after Quinn was injured.. I know she took good care of him

Went with his oblique injury rather than his hand for this! Fingers crossed Quinn stays healthy for a while now Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

"Sit." You point to the couch, the spot you've already piled with blankets and pillows, a cosy little spot just for Quinn. In prime view of the television so he can watch any games he wants, stack of his unread books nearby in case he decides he'd rather read. Maybe you're being overbearing, but you don't think so, not with the way he winces every time he moves, not with the fact he's been told he can't even practice on the ice yet.

"Baby, I'm fine." You're fed up of it, if you're being perfectly honest. For the last few days Quinn has resisted every attempt of yours to help him, to look after him. A stubborn sort of pride gripping him that refused to budge in the face of your fussing. You hated it. You hated that he kept pushing his limits, that he never let his body actually rest, that he was seemingly determined to break himself. You hated that you couldn't fix it.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes, you are most certainly not fine, so sit your ass down and let me look after you." Your voice is sharp, snappy in a way you usually don't use with him. The sort of voice you typically only pull out in class when someone is doing something particularly dangerous or fool hardy. It's rarely, if ever, directed at your boyfriend.

There's a beat of silence, your harsh tone slapping Quinn across the proverbial face as you huff at him, lips pursing, cheeks puffing out in frustration.

He's sitting before he really thinks about it, plopping down in the spot you'd made for him with a, "Yes, ma'am." and letting you throw the blankets over him and wrap him up like a burrito. It's somewhat inconvenient that he can't use his arms, but in that moment, as he watches you fuss he realises that it's not so much for him as for you.

You're fussing to ease your worries, you're fussing because it makes you feel useful, like you're helping when you have absolutely 0 control over how fast he heals from his oblique injury.

Quinn watches you, follows you with his eyes as you putter around getting him something to drink, something to eat, a heating pad, an ice pack, anything and everything. Contradictory items, large and small.

"Baby..."

"What do you need? Have I forgotten something?" You're in a tizzy, frazzled as you plump the cushion beside him like he needs another cushion at all when he's surrounded by them.

"Baby, I'm okay...you don't need to worry about me." You're in your own head, he can see that. You're more worried about him than you've been letting on, letting the pressure build and build until your ready to pop...and maybe he's been neglecting you too. Not noticing, not thinking that maybe his girlfriend might find his constant injuries just a tiny bit stressful on top of her already stressful day job.

"You're not okay...you...you keep getting hurt and I feel so...I feel so useless..." You're breaking in front of him slowly, a few tears slipping out that you wipe away was you turn away from him to hide it. It's not even all about the injuries, it's everything.

Teaching has been more and more stressful lately, deadlines and meetings and parents that don't see that you're just trying to support their child. On top of it all Quinn's injury, his own stress from not being able to play, from the Canucks performing so poorly without him.

"Hey, hey...c'mere, sweetheart," Quinn's voice softens, a gentle reassuring cadence. He's opening up the blanket burrito you'd wrapped him in, holding it open until you crawl in besides him. You're delicate about it, gentle, overly mindful as if you think a single tap might break him, scared to hurt him.

He pulls you tight against him, not letting you hesitate for long and the moment you slot against his body properly? You melt into him like this was all you needed as he wraps the blanket around you and cocoons you inside with him. "I promise i'm okay...you don't need to worry so much, baby."

"I can't help it...I feel useless."

"You're not useless. You've taken such good care of me, baby, but it's not on you to look after me. I'm okay."

It might take awhile for you to believe it he thinks, but that's okay because he'll remind you each day that while his oblique hurts, while he can't play hockey right now he can look after himself. He can cook his own food, wash his own hair, get himself dressed and you? You need to stop taking everything onto your shoulders like the world will end if you don't control it.

Quinn leans back further into the pillows, drawing you down with him as you nuzzle into his neck. Your body is warm against him as you curl into his side, the sort of reassuring weight that he's missed while you've been too scared to touch him.

"It's not all on you, baby. You're not Atlas holding up the world." His fingers stroke through your hair in soothing motions, as much for you as for him as he tries to take some of that stress away.

"I feel like it sometimes..."

"But, you don't need to be, you can't control everything and you don't need to." He knows that's easier said than done for you. You've always been someone who need to be organised, in control, to feel like everything is ticking along like clockwork. The smallest spanner putting everything out of sync. He knows you can't just turn that off, but he wishes...he wishes you could just exist sometimes, not feel like everything depends on you.

"I just...I know you hate being out from hockey and I know you're stressed and I just want to make it better."

"You do, just by being here you make it better." He sighs into your hair, pressing his nose to the top of your head and just inhaling the smell of your shampoo.

Does it suck that he can't play? Yeah, it fucking sucks...but God, just being around you makes it easier. All he needs is you around. He doesn't need you to fix him, to find a solution to a problem that can't be solved with quick fixes. He just needs you.

The sooner you realise that, the better.

[carbonfiction]

Saw that your asks were open today!! Just read your logan migraine comfort fic, and I loved it!!! So I was thinking, how about logan with like a reader being stressed out over exams? (I'm sitting for a mock exam tomorrow, and the days leading up to it have been hell!!) Back to the fic idea, he could like help her by holding the book for her, flashcards, etc. It can be any logan you like i had in mind origins logan in a cabin setting but up to you. Love your writing!!!

Hiii anon, thank you for the love on the migraine piece!! i hope the exam goes okay- ive been in a similar situation as of late and mocks or not they are so so stressful so i hope this lil drabble helps even a little <33

Study buddy (boyfriend)

Masterlist. Words: 753

A frustrated sigh falls from your lips, closing the textbook infront of you with a less than gentle slam. The chair creaks under you as you sit back, stretching your spine, then your shoulders you feel the fatigue tugging at you.

There was little more you wanted to do than cuddle up with your boyfriend, Logan, on the couch. Comfortable clothes on, belly filled with your favorite takeout as you sit amused by some show logan flicks on the tv- probably The Great British Bake Off knowing his soft spot for it; despite his vehement denial.

But instead, you'd been holled up inside the office space logan had cornered off for you inside the cabin. The lamp giving a golden hued glow to the room as the hours ticked by. Exam season was in full swing boy, oh boy was it taking its toll on you.

"Hows it goin baby?" logans enquires with a quiet knock, broad body momentarily leaning against the wooden doorframe. He's been watching you study, scribbling notes and reading over the information that sits on the desk.

You wip around to him with a soft smile, noticing the mug in his hand, steaming and hot as he begins to tread closer.

"Exhausting.." you sigh, peaking into the mug as he rests it on the coaster by your book. "'S that for me?"

"Ofcourse, exactly how you like it" he smiles, large hands coming to rest on your shoulders. His fingers messaging into the tense muscles as he stands behind the chair. "Figured you could do with it, been glued to that book for hours"

"And yet.. It feels like nothing is going in. No matter how much i do the practice papers or read.." you frown, taking a long sip of the hot tea and logan can practically feel the frustration coming from you. His heart squeezing in his chest at how hard your pushing yourself as your other hand reaches forward to rustle through more papers.

"Need a break sweetheart" he kisses the crown of your head softly.

"Cant.. Gotta get it in before tomorrow" You grumble back sadly.

"Alright" he sighs, fetching the spare chair from the corner of the room until it sits beside you at the desk. "if you wont take a break, at least let me help?"

"Logan you dont have-" you go to protest, but logan picking up a pen and tapping it repetitively onto the desk interups you.

"C'mon, Get me up to speed baby."

"It- its the history one, the civil war" you confess quietly.

"Your kiddin" logan huffs, amusement filling his tone as a grin speads across his lips. "All this time you've been in here, worrying your pretty little head.. While you could've just given me a call?"

"I- i didnt want to bother you.. Dredge it all up again in your head, know how hard you try to leave it behind.."

"Baby.." logan starts, a hand coming to rest on your thigh with a gentle reassuring squeeze. "You ever need to know anything you just ask me okay? If i can help then i want to.. use it for some good."

Another two hours tick by after that; the dimly lit office bustling with back and forth conversation as logan fills in the gaps to questions youve struggled on.

He's even alternated between holding the book, reading, recounting memory and testing you with the little laminated flash cards you'd made.

Its within this time, much to your joy, the information goes in and stays. Logans voice always full of praise as you correctly answer the last card.

"You got it baby, a ten out of ten!" Logan grins brightly as his arm comes to wrap around your shoulders. No longer do they sit hunched and tense under his grasp.

"Thats the.. The first time ive gotten them all right.." You trail blinking, unmoving for a moment, until you practically jump from your chair into his lap as logan playfully huffs at the drop of your body onto his.

His legs widen, arms wrapping around your back tugging you ever closer. Your head resting in the crook of his neck as you drape yourself over him. His body is warm and soft under your grasp and he feels the featherlight press of your lips kissing over him, smiling widely as you make each contact.

"Told ya you could do it, just gotta take a breath sometimes." Logan whispers, his voice like honey as calloused fingers brush your hair away. His own lips find your temple, mumbling quietly against your skin. "'M so proud of you."

Im awful at closing out drabbles/fics im so sorry but i really jumped at writing this since im struggling with studdying rn!! Plus writing for Origins!Logan is so much fun bc hes just so boyfriend in my mind!! Perfect timing anon, i really do hope you enjoy <33

[motthe]

I was just rereading the house call the other day so I'm super stoked you're doing Arcane fics again! I adore the lumen au SO much. May I request academic rivals lumen au with Viktor? Him and reader both being incredible academics competing for the same position, but up til now haven't met in person and don't realize it's their soulmate they're trying to beat. However short/long you want and whatever format you prefer!

I hope you don't mind, I did fem!reader for this drabble. If not I can go back over it, no problem!

Professor Heimerdinger did his best to not show favoritism amongst his students. Each and every one of them had a grand mind, reaching aspirations, and a passion to learn. They were the stars to his sky and he would not trade anything for a single one.

But there were those who earned their place in the elite, guiding those with their brilliance onto a path of achievement some might fail to find. Heimerdinger did not make it any easier on them in their greatness, if anything he asked for more. And now with it being time for a new assistant he was having a hard time choosing from his collection of constellations. 

“I’ve finally narrowed it down to two of you,” he said to Viktor, taking a moment to sip his tea. “You’ve shown marvelous progress this semester as you have for all the others—a constant, you are, my boy!”

Viktor swirled the amber liquid around in his cup. He had known what the meeting was about as soon as Heimerdinger had invited him to his office. It left his stomach in knots. 

A softness grazed his ear, adding pressure as it traveled under his jaw. He allowed himself a small moment to bask in the touch before he raised his hand to gather your light and bring it down to sit on his leg. 

Lumens all had their shows of affection, always doing their best to help when they sensed stress. You preferred to pull him out of his head by taking up his attention. From running through his hair and making a mess of it to nudging his cheek, you would do anything to get his eyes on you. Right now, he couldn’t have you distracting him, so he kept a hand over you, biting back a smile as you wiggled against his palm. 

“And the other student you are ruminating on?” he asked.

“Hm?” The wise yordle’s ears perked up as he swallowed another sip of tea. “Oh, no need to worry about that. The point of this meeting is to gauge your overall interest in the job at hand.”

“Consider me interested, Professor.” Viktor set his porcelain cup down, leaning back to meet his gaze. “Is there to be a contest? A, eh, battle of the wits?”

“By the spirits, no!” chuckled Heimerdinger. “I would never pin you against one another like that. The last thing I need is having two of my best students at each other’s throats!”

“And, yet, you seem…concerned about me knowing of the other candidate.” Viktor raised an eyebrow as his professor coughed, turning in his chair and hopping down. The young man grabbed his cane and stood as Heimerdinger approached. 

As soon as he raised his hand from you, your bright form went twirling up into the air. He blew a short breath at you as you tried to hover in front of him, clearly irritated if your budding red color was any indication. You bounced against his nose in retaliation, floating down to sit on his shoulder.

“I only mean to keep the mystery alive, my boy! There are many times in life we are faced with the unknown and must navigate blind.” He slowed his pace to remain by Viktor’s side as the two made for the door. “By the end of the week, I will have come up with something suitable to decide which of you will become my assistant, but for now, I ask you to think on it and be sure the job is something you truly want for yourself.”

“Of course, Professor,” said Viktor as he stepped through the doorway, cane clicking against the ground. 

“Spectacular! Now off with you! I know finals are right around the corner for you two.” Heimerdinger waved before shutting the door, leaving Viktor out in the hall with an inkling he was not too fond of.

As he began his walk to the library, he noticed your stillness on his shoulder and grinned to himself.

“Pouting, are we?” he hummed. A flash of crimson light had him glancing over, but the majority of you was still a soft yellow. It made him chuckle.

Entering the library, he went straight to the front desk, nodding to the librarian as she looked up from her paperwork. 

“Hello, Viktor, anything I can help with?” she asked.

“Just a pickup. I sent the requests this morning,” he answered. 

“Let me check the cart.” Pushing her chair out from the desk, a purple lumen rolled off the counter to follow her as she went to the back office in search of his books. He waited by patiently, taking in the peaceful ambiance of turning pages and scribbling pens. 

You nudged at his neck, done with your little strike. He brought his hand up to rub a finger over the top of you, returning the sentiment. The yellow light phased into that lovely pink shade he adored—the sign you were content. 

“Here we are.” He looked up, surprised as the librarian sat down his books. He hadn’t heard her returning. “One of them was already checked out, it seems, but you’ll be the next in line for it as soon as it’s turned in.”

“Many thanks,” he said, gathering the study material against his side before heading off to his dorm. 

There was mail—the scores from last week’s test, no doubt, and a vanilla envelope stamped with that cursed emblem. He rolled his eyes, attempting to prepare himself for what was to come as he unlocked his door. He went straight to his desk to drop off his books and sit. You wandered down his arm and under the lamp as he switched it on, enjoying the warmth of the bulb as he grabbed his letter knife.

As he scanned the parchment he was met with usual sight. His marks were as predicted in his class, but there sitting on the next column over for the professor’s second class of the day, was that same name that shadowed him since his third semester. He opened the second piece of mail with a sigh.

Guess we’re both head to head for the role of Heimerdinger’s assistant. He didn’t want me to know who I’m up against as I’m sure he won’t want you to, but there’s no mistaking his two, brightest candidates.

P.S. Tied again for perfect scores. I hope you’re studying for finals. Don’t want to end up a point shy again, do you?

He tossed the letter into the bin, jaw clenched. You moved from your spot to rub against his hand, back to your color of neutrality. He let out a slow breath.

“I know,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t get so worked up.”

He knew better. Years had passed but his rival had not lost a bit of their flare. He had met his fair share of competitive students as well as bullies, but this one walked a fine line. 

Viktor never bothered to waste energy on such petty pastimes. He recognized her name and had heard it in passing from professors when they spoke of the highest grades. She was always mentioned—a star pupil. In the beginning, he had been curious, but she was a ghost, then. No classes were shared and Viktor was never a social being to begin with, so seeking her out was never a priority. He wouldn’t know her face if he passed her in the hall.

Yet, somehow, she tracked him down enough to send these little notes time and time again. He never replied, but it did not stop her.

He did his best to push her from his mind, burying himself into his classes. When he checked with the library the next day, the book he needed was returned, so he added it to his growing collection on his desk. The week went by quietly.

A knock came at his door.

“One moment,” he called, a tired breath slipping from his chest as he pried himself away from his chair and towards the door. You tussled along the top of his head as he peered through the peephole, humming. It was only went he looked further down he saw a tuft of hair.

“Professor,” he said as the door opened.

“Good evening, Viktor,” said Heimerdinger, holding up an envelope, “I’ve come to deliver my assignment to you and miss—er, to the other student I’m considering for the role of my assistant!”

He leaned against his door jam, managing a tight smile. “You need not keep secrets. I’m more than aware who your other ‘star pupil’ is.”

Heimerdinger sighed, brow furrowing. “Oh, fiddlesticks! I should’ve known you would figure me out. She did, too.”

Viktor would say it was obvious, but he spared the poor man. It wasn’t as if he knew how cumbersome the girl was, needling Viktor any chance she got.

“Well, it makes things a bit easier, I suppose,” Heimerdinger said, holding up the envelope again. “I know your exams are beginning, so I made this as simple as I could. The details of the assignment are within. I looked forward to it, my boy!”

With that, the yordle went on his way, leaving Viktor to slip back into his room and lock his door. Looking down at the parchment in his hand, he squinted as you fell into sight, catching yourself just in time before floating off behind him.

“Were you up there the entire time?” he huffed, raising a hand to fix his hair. 

You twinkled mischievously, back on his desk and in the warmth of his lamp light. 

Shaking his head, he crossed his room and eased down into his desk chair once more. You nudged the letter opener where it sat beside you.

The assignment was as Heimerdinger promised, simple. He wanted a written answer of what being his assistant would mean to him as both a scientist and a person. There was no word limit and he expected it to be turned in to his office by the end of the weekend before classes began.

“I’m assuming he doesn’t want a basic answer,” Viktor mused allowed, eyes slinking back to you. He smiled as you swayed from side to side, the outer layer of your light trailing with the movement. You were a strange combination of green and orange—excited and nervous. Perhaps plans for the weekends? Or maybe you were facing something just as important as he was—a door to the future. 

“Better to start right away,” he breathed, searching his desk. When he couldn’t find his pen, he began closing and stacking the books to open up the space. One must have been teetering on the edge because the next thing he knew there was a mess on the floor.

Accepting the new chore with a roll of his shoulders, he turned and began to tidy up. He paused, though, at the book that lied open. Sitting in the crease of the pages was some sort of bookmark, thin and metallic if the light reflection off of it had any indication. Grasping the edges, he brought the text back to his desk’s surface, holding up the thin item for better observation. There was an intricate design that changed when angled in different ways. It was quite pretty and likely cost more than Viktor would pay to keep tabs in a book. 

Flipping to the start, he looked for the checkout slip attached and slid it from the pocket, roving over the names until he found his. Above it was that cursed name.

“For the love of—” He let out an aggravated scoff, glaring at the bookmark. Of course it would belong to her. With all the letters she sends, she probably doesn’t glance twice at the cost of a stamp or mailing fees. She has money to spare if she buys trinkets like that.

He laid it aside along with the mess of books. When he turned in Heimerdinger’s assignment he’d give the bookmark to him as well. He would get it back to her. 

Come the end of the weekend, Viktor was up bright and early to drop off his explication. The halls were mostly quiet, a few teachers offering a greeting as they went by. The students still recovering from whatever activities they got up to. Viktor didn't have the time. He needed to return the textbooks and check out more for the next exam, also grab some more pens. He was running low.

Turning the corner that was attached to Heimerdinger’s office, Viktor stopped as he spotted a figure by the door. The uniform revealed she was a student, her hair pinned back from her face as she opened the mail slot and tucked an envelope inside. He spotted a lumen in the crook of her elbow, a warm brown against the cream of her coat. 

The metallic clap of the mail slot closing broke him from his observation. When he raised his eyes he found the girl had noticed him, eyes wide before a smirk curled at her lips.

“Well,” she chuckled, “we finally meet.”

“I beg your pardon?” he said, repositioning himself as she turned to face him. 

“Oh, c’mon, Viktor.” She crossed her arms, careful of her lumen as she cupped a hand under it. His chest warmed at the sight. Despite such a devil-may-care attitude, she was soft with it. “Another student here this early, turning something into Professor Heimerdinger? Need I say more?”

“Ah,” he muttered, lips curling just a bit in distaste as he let her name slip.

“Ding, ding, ding,” she sang, chin rising. “I suppose it’s about time we met, being academic rivals and all.”

“You enjoy it a bit too much,” he said, shaking his head as you tumble from his shoulder, slowly floating forward. You’re a bright orange, so very excited. If only he wasn’t dealing with her right now, he’d smile.

“Oh, it’s all in good fun!” She glances at her lumen as it hovers up from her embrace before turning her attention back to him. “You’re always all by your lonesome. I’d thought you’d enjoy some friendly competition.”

“I don’t have time for frivolous games. I thought you might have understood that seeing as I never replied.”

You froze, midair, causing Viktor to realize just how far your light had wandered from him. That sparkling orange had dulled to a grayish blue.

He reached for you, concerned before he noticed his rival’s face beyond you. She was looking at the floor, smugness gone, and the lumen attached to her was now slowly floating up, a foot away from yours.

His breath caught in his throat as it moved higher. He let his hand fall to his side as it nudged against you, sending a bright flash that had him closing his eyes. When he blinked again his rival—you—were staring at the two lumens in shock. The dull color of your lumen had gone milky white.

You both stared at one another, then. 

“I change colors?” you muttered.

He sucked in a breath. “Y-you do, yes.”

“Oh,” you said, rubbing your hands over your sides, “weird.”

“No, it’s, eh,” he stumbled over the correct words, bringing a hand to his neck, “you are honest with your emotions. Very, what do they say, er…”

“I wear my heart on my sleeve?” you said, smiling.

“Yes, that,” he murmured, nodding.

“I get that a lot,” you chuckled. It was nothing like the first one he’d heard from you. This one was much weaker. Sadder.

“I apologize,” he began.

You shook your head. “No, I get how irritating I must’ve been. I should’ve stopped when you never sent a letter back. That’s on me.”

“No, I ,” he sighed, taking a step towards you, the hit of his cane on the floor pulling your eyes to his, “I assumed you were ‘poking the fun’ at me. It wouldn’t have been the first time.”

“No, no I meant it to be friendly, I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, bridging the distance bit by bit. “I would never poke fun at you, Viktor. You’re brilliant. I hold such high respect for you.”

“Oh.” He was blindsided by the joy that came from hearing that, especially from his soulmate. “I, well, thank you…”

“Can we start over?” you asked, smiling nervously as you held up a hand. “I promise I’m much better in person.”

You are perfect, he thought, unsure how fate would bless him with something as beautiful and smart as you. 

[daydreamerswriting]

Hii! I was reading your headcanons on how the gang would handle a reader with ocd and it honestly made me feel so seen. I really appreciate your attention to detail and research that went into it. I saw that you said you would be willing to do a non platonic version when you reopened your requests and was hoping you could. I loved how you imagine the gang handling it in a platonic way and would love to see it in a romantic light (especially Johnny)!

No pressure as I’m sure requests can pile up and get stressful! Thank you!! 🤍

an: You're so sweet! I'm so glad that you liked the headcanons I wrote and felt they were well researched! I'm going to do shortish fics (drabbles?) for each of the boys.😘 if you commented on my last post asking for specific examples, I included your struggles

W: some slight insensitivity?? Swearing ig, not proof read

Darry Curtis

"Ponyboy! You tracked mud in! We just finished cleaning!" Darry rises his voice as Ponyboy enters the living room soaking wet. He looks behind him at the trail of muddy footprint he created.

"Oh. Darry, I'm didn't mean to!" He says, looking back at his older brother, then apologetically at you.

"Its fine, Pony." You say sweetly.

"You better clean that up now, kid." Darry adds.

Ponyboy huffs, but he agrees, "Okay."

Though you said it was fine, the muddy footprint were stressing you out. It was just mud, you told yourself, Pony is going to clean it up. But you couldn't help it, anxiety was stirring up in you, and the longer you looked at the mud, it only got worse.

"Hey," At the sound Darry's voice, you look away from the mud and instead at him. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"Yeah." You say, not wanting to worry him. "Yeah.. it's stupid. I'm fine."

It wasn't just because the floor was dirty, it was because it was mud from the bottom of shoes. Mud from outside, mixed with other stuff, probably has animal feces, bugs, spit, animal urine, blood, who knows what else. The longer you look at it, the more your thoughts spirl.

Darry gently grabs your arm. "Babe, you're worry yourself about the mud, I know. I'll make Pony clean it with clean if you want. Would that be better?"

A part of you says it would be better, but another part tells you that you're overreacting. You shake your head. "It's just mud." You say, more for yourself than him.

He nods and rubs your arm. "Yeah. Want to help me cook dinner, so you can stop thinking about it."

A smile creeps onto your lips. "Yes, please. What are you making?"

Darry takes your hand and pulls you to the kitchen. "I was thinking of cooking chicken."

Sodapop Curtis

"Rise and shine!" You say as you open the curtains in Sodapop's bedroom.

Last night, you'd actually gotten to stay over. You seldom got to because your boyfriend's older brother was a bit strict and his younger brother often liked to room with him, but last night, Pony and Soda slept separately, so you got a chance to cuddle with him.

Soda turns away from the window and groans. "I'm tired..." He complains.

You walk around the other side of the bed and bend over to kiss his face. "You have work today. I let you sleep in long enough. I helped Darry make pancakes. Up and at 'em, come on, baby." You grab his hands and pull him as he slowly gets out of bed.

"I like pancakes." He mumbles as he rubs his face.

"I know." You peck his cheek. "Get changed."

You prance back to the kitchen and greet Pony, who drowning his pancake in syrup.

The pancakes smell so delicious, it's mouthwatering, so you grab yourself a plate. You carefully inspect it, making sure it's clean.

"Oh, honey, those pancake look and smell amazing." Soda says as he enters the kitchen with his DX uniform on. You look up from your plate inspecting and smile.

"Thank you. I hope you like them."

"I bet I will. They’re good, huh, Pony?" Soda asks as he reaches over you to grab a plate.

Ponyboy nods, and says, "Yeah," with his mouth full.

Your plate passed your inspection, but the fork you grab doesn't. It fails before you even touch it. So you pick it up as if it's infected, barely holding it between your index and your thumb, and drop it in the sink.

"What's wrong?" Sodapop asks. "Ponyboy didn't clean the silverware well enough?"

Pony looks up at the sound of his name.

"Just looked a bit dirty. I can clean it." You say.

"Alright. You want me to put a pancake on your plate for you?"

"No! No. It's fine. I can do it." You say, not wanting him to touch your food with his used silverware, or, God forbid, his hands. Though, he had been planning to use the spatula you cooked with, knowing you didn't want any dirty silverware or fingers near your food. You dry the fork then use it to move the top pancake from the stack onto your plate. You pull out the chair beside Soda's and sit down.

"They're really good, baby." Soda says with his mouth full.

You smile a bit, but also cringe. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

He swallows. "Sorry."

Your smile now reaches your eyes. "It's fine. I'm glad you like them."

Johnny Cade

You lean against Johnny's side as he smokes a cigarette. He wraps an arm around you as the two of you enjoy the quietness of the vacant lot. Well, it's not completely quiet, there's some dog barks here and there, the sounds are leafs rustling, and crickets chirping, but it's void of human voices, so it feels quiet. It feels perfect, calm, peaceful, and like nothing could disturb a moment as tranquil as this.

Suddenly, you're envisioning grotesque things, vile things, horrid things. You grab Johnny's hand in a panic.

"Johnny," you say, "Distract me."

He looks over at you and sees the discomfort on your face. "Oh, um okay." He stubs out his cigarette on an old chair. "What'd you have for breakfast this morning?"

"Coffee."

"Well, maybe I should take you out to breakfast tomorrow then. Get you a real meal. Yeah?"

The corners of your mouth quirk up. "You asking me on a date?" You ask teasingly. The images haven't left you though.

"Course I am. What're you going to wear?"

"Um.. my baby blue dress. The one that has a little white bow on the waist. I haven't worn it in a while."

He nods. "You'll look tuff. And beautiful."

You giggle. "I'll look tuff?"

"Yeah." He tucks your hair behind your ear affectionately. "Where do you want to go."

"Uh... gee I don't know. I'm indecisive. You suggest something."

"The Dingo."

"They have breakfast?" You ask.

He nods.

"Well... how about that little Cafe we went to a while ago? I can't remember what it's called.."

"Oh, I know what you're talking about. With the one old lady who keep looking at us suspiciously. Like she was worried we'd dine and dash?"

You smile as you nod. "Yeah."

"Sure. We can go there, honey." He kisses your forehead and smiles at you, though there's a hint of worry in his eye.

"I'm fine now. You distracted me. Now, keep talking so they don't come back." You take his hands in yours.

The worry in his eyes disappears, and his smiles reaches his eyes. "Alright."

Dallas Winston

The anxiety grueling around in your head and stomach was currently being worsened by the Dingo's loud, rambunctious environment.

"You saw me lock the front door, right?" You suddenly ask Dallas, cutting off whatever story he was telling. You felt bad for Interrupting, you loved listening to him talk about himself, especially since he seldom opened up, but your mind wouldn't shut up.

"Uh- yeah I think so." He says, clearly a bit upset that you weren't paying attention to what he was telling you.

"You think so or you know so?"

"Who cares? No one locks their doors anyway. Don't get your panties in a twist over this." He waves his hand dismissively.

"What if someone tries to break in?"

"Its the middle of the day." He sighs, "Doll, you're you. I'd be surprised if you forgot to lock the door."

You pause and try to listen to him, convince yourself that you locked it, but you can't. "...Maybe I should run home and check.." You mutter.

"What?" Dallas asks, the loud surrounds made it so he hadn't heard you.

Before you're able to repeat yourself, your food is brought over by the waitress.

"I just remembered," Dallas declares after the waitress leaves, "I saw you lock the door."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm damn sure." He nods. Maybe he was lying to make you forget about it, but if he was, it worked.

Steve Randle

You draw the blinds to your bedroom window, but not before checking to make sure no one is looking. You then make sure your bedroom door is locked again, then finally, you instruct Steve to guard it.

Does he find it a bit silly? Yes. Does he do it anyway? Also yes. He would do anything for you, so standing in front of a door while he gets to watch you change is light work.

Steve loves being over at your house. Your neatness and cleanliness is such a stark contrast to his disorderly house. It's nice. Though, he knows that your room is only this organized because you might implode from stress, anxiety, and rage if it wasn't, so he doesn't love it that much.

"You look tasty." He tells you.

"Tasty?" You repeat. You look over at him, your pj's are now on, so his bodyguard duties cease. You approach him, a teasing smile on your face.

His hands find your hips and pull you closer. A grin paints his face as he hum, "Mhm, tasty."

You look behind him, triple checking your door is locked, then you look back at the window, and the blinds are still drawn.

"No one's looking." Steve breathes, his lips dangerously close to yours.

Two-Bit Matthews

You dry your hands after you finish washing them for the 5th time since you've gotten to this restaurant. You throw the paper towel away then push open the bathroom door with your side. Two-bit is waiting for you.

"Ready to go now? Golly, are you the cleanest person I know." He says, in a loving way.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

The two of you walk out of the restaurant together, unsure of where you're going next. You planned to spend the whole day together, and still had half the day left.

A few girls are walking towards you on the sidewalk, and they're so absorbed in their conversation that they don't seem to notice you and Two-Bit. So, you two move way over on the sidewalk, near the street and pass infront of a street light as to not bump into the girls.

But unfortunately, you're suddenly overcome with the idea that you must go around the street light several more times, or something very bad will happen.

Two-Bit looks over his shoulder when he notices you're not next to him. He stops when he sees you circling.

"You dizzy yet?" Two-bit asks as you circle around a street light for a 5th time.

"Shut up." You mumble. Finally, you feel as though you can stop, and your house won't burn down. "Sorry." You say softly as you return to your boyfriend's side.

"Hey, it's fine. Don't be sorry." He ruffles your hair and smiles. You push his hand away, but not without a giggle. He wraps his arm around your shoulders.

Two-Bit hums. "So, we've had lunch, where are we headed now? Curtis's? Your place? Park or something?"

"I picked where we ate, you pick what we do next."

"Hm... I bet the Curtis's have cake."

He smirks happily. "I like the way you think."

[thewhumpcaretaker]

ok ok ok your sub! john drabbles actually gave me the best idea. tattoo artist x john wick

tattoo artist reader is there to comfort him and make sure he’s okay and doesn’t pass out esp if it’s his first tattoo.

also writing this made me remember a fic i read that’s not finished but breaks my heart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21060659/chapters/50100092 if you want to read 🖤

Thank you so much for this ask!! I've been thinking about this idea for a while actually. There was another ask about this a long time ago, maybe on my JohnWickCaretaker blog? I can't find that one, but if that was also you, then thanks a second time. Also, yaaaaay, fic recommendation! 🖤

John Wick x Tattoo Artist Reader (Gender Neutral)

Author's Note: John is a little younger in this one (I’m picturing him being 18-19), so he’s not as mature. He’s even more shy and gets defensive more easily. Also, I'm not a tattoo artist, and haven't gotten any tattoos, so this is just based on what I've read about it!

CW: forced to get a tattoo, tattoo needle, crying, reader swears frequently, bittersweet ending

Image sources: 1 2 3

“You have time for a walk-in?”

You didn’t even hear this guy open the door. Once you’re done being startled, you notice…him. You’re not supposed to let yourself think this way about clients, but shit, he’s cute. He looks soft. Mostly clean shaven, with a thin, elegant face (maybe it’s the high cheekbones), topped off with a mop of dark hair. And probably inexperienced, based on how nervous he looks. A little part of you wonders how this is going to go for him. “You’re in luck. What’s your name?”

No answer.

“Can I see an ID?”

He hesitates awkwardly. “I’m coming from Mrs. Petrov.”

Oh. So he’s one of these. You doubt that’s her real name, but Mrs. Petrov sailed into your shop one day offering to double the usual price if you’d keep quiet and ask no questions, and you sure need the money. Your skin is crawling a bit but you take a deep breath and get into it.

“Okay, good enough for me. What design are we looking at?”

He hands you a paper. It’s the same one you’ve seen half a dozen times: hands touching in prayer over an image of the cross. Guys come to you for this tat again and again, “from Mrs. Petrov.” One told you it was a mark of his acting troupe, another said it was a family crest, another a symbol of his church. They’re probably all lying, but you know better than to call them on it – or to turn any of them away. You’re pretty sure it’s a mob thing. It breaks your heart a little bit to think he’s caught up in all that. He doesn’t look the part. But then, you also know better than to judge by looks alone.

You gesture to the chair. “Settle in, face down. It’s better if we have your shirt off.” He’s way too delicious underneath it. The perfect canvas...shhhhh stop it. You’re a professional and he’s…god knows what. “This will take about four or five hours. Is that okay?”

He nods.

“Silent type I guess?”

That gets a faint smile before he lays across the bench, chin resting on folded arms. You flip the Open sign to Closed, pull on your gloves, and start prepping tools. You turn on the radio to 80s rock, filling the silence between you - though it doesn’t feel like a stressful silence, surprisingly. Both of you know how odd this situation is and you’re both just trying to get through it. There’s a camaraderie to that.

You glance down at the design in your hand and whistle. It’s pretty big, taking up most of the center of his back, between the scapulas. “Is this your first tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, well I’ll be real with you: this is going right over the spine, so you can expect some pain. Nothing that’ll kill you, just…not super pleasant. So I’ll check in from time to time, see how you’re doing. If you need a break, we can take one.”

“I won’t.” He sounds pretty sure of that. Standing behind him, you shake your head. It’s always the ones that are so sure…

“Well, after a while, I’ll need one.” You run disinfecting wipes over the center of his back and set to work. When the needle touches down for the first time, he winces once, but he doesn’t wince again for the next ten minutes of linework. It takes you that long to realize that he’s barely breathing. “Your muscles are tense, buddy. I need you to relax for me or this will hurt more.”

“…I just…don’t want to move.” There’s something so sweet about the way he says it.

“You won’t move. You’re actually less likely to shake if you can let yourself go totally limp, like you would if you were about to fall asleep. Here, sit up for a second, take a deep breath, and stretch out.” He listens, but he’s not looking at you. You’re pretty sure he’s blushing.

“Okay. I’m relaxed.” Liar. You can still feel the knots in his muscles when you touch him again. But at least it’s a little better than before, and he’s getting impatient. “Keep going.”

Well, the customer is always right. “Alright, let’s do it.” You grab your pen and get back into place. The best you can do is try to distract him. “How did you choose this tattoo anyway?” Might as well see what story this one will make up.

“I didn’t.” That’s probably the truest answer you’ve heard so far.

“Do you…like it?” God, you hope so.

“Not really.”

“…You’re telling me I’m putting something on your body right now that you don’t want there?”

“No,” he says, a little too quickly. “Forget it.”

That’s probably for the best anyway. You’ll get too pissed off if you keep going down this line of questioning. You take a deep breath and try for something lighter. “So what do you, uh…do for fun?”

“Reading, mostly.”

“Oh, sweet. You read anything good lately?”

“Kind of. I’m reading Anna Kerenina.” He slips into a faint accent when he says it, and you have a suspicion.

“What translation?”

“Just the Russian.” He sounds a little annoyed, like you caught him out on something. You suppose you did, and it was kind of fun.

“Bilingual. That’s badass.”

“Thanks.” There’s silence again for a minute, but it feels friendlier.

“So what do you think of it?”

“It’s...fine.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Yeah, it’s kind of dry.”

“I guess, but I don’t mind that. I just don’t like Anna and Vronsky. Which is Tolstoy’s whole point, but…”

“They’re both little shits to everyone. Makes it hard to get invested.”

“Right, exactly.” He shifts his chin. “If I was married, I can’t imagine cheating.” From some people, a line like that would sound like a transparent attempt to come across as a “nice guy.” But he says it so wistfully, you know he means it.

Don’t say what you’re about to say. Don’t say it. Be professional.

…Fuck it, you’re doing this under the table anyway. “Are you dating anybody?”

“No.” It sounds so bitter that, for a second, you think you really are dealing with a nice-guy-impersonator. But then he clarifies. “My…lifestyle doesn’t allow for that.”

“Oh.” You can’t think of any way to reply that doesn’t involve the burning questions in your mind about what exactly this “lifestyle” entails. So you lapse into silence again, for much longer this time, just thinking, wondering what it’s like to be one of these young men with the cross tattoos. Are they all friends with each other? What exactly do they do? Is it difficult? How does it pay? How did they get into it?

You stop when you’re done with the linework. “Okay, that went great! We’re totally done with the outlines, which is half the battle. I’m going to take a break before we start on the shading.” You circle around in front of him to grab your water bottle, and catch a glimpse of his face as he’s straightening up.

He’s wiping off silent tears.

Your heart almost drops out of your chest. “Oh shit. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, but it sounds hoarse and shaky. “Just hurt more than I expected.” He huffs a laugh, trying to play the whole thing off as unimportant.

“Dude, I told you we can take breaks if you need. If you’re crying from pain, you’re too tensed up. Tell me next time, alright?” Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re rubbing his shoulder. He freezes for a second, and you pull back. “Sorry, I – I didn’t mean to – “

“No, it’s okay. I’m just not used to that.”

“Damn, how do they treat you at Mrs. Petrov’s place?” You’re half joking, but you want to know more and more by the second. And when he just looks grave and doesn’t answer, your heart does that weird dropping thing again.

“…Let me get you a water, okay? I’ll be right back.” You’re grateful for the short walk to the mini fridge you keep in the back of the parlor. It feels so heavy in that room. You’re starting to wish you hadn’t taken the deal, because whatever this is, you don’t want to be involved.

When you come back, he’s perfectly composed again, but looking at you more carefully this time, like he’s finally really seeing you. After he takes a drink of water, he hesitates for a second. “My name is Jardani.”

Warmly, “Nice to meet you.” You take the bottle back and set it on the table, within reach. “You’ll tell me if you get overwhelmed next time?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m trusting you.”

You watch him settle in and get back to work. It’s okay at first but there’s a dark shadow under those praying hands that needs to go right over his spine. It’s basically pure black. A couple minutes into it, he exhales sharply, like he’d been holding his breath for a while. “Stop.”

You set your pen down right away. “You got it.” You pull up a chair next to him and he turns to look at you, without sitting up. He’s really pale. “How are you feeling?”

“Lightheaded.”

“Yeah, you can pass out if you get tense like that for too long. But you’re okay. We can take as long as you need.” You put your hand on his shoulder again, massaging it, and this time, he lets you. You can feel some of the tension finally seep away and the color returns to his cheeks. The dark pools of his eyes are fixed on yours, and if you aren’t careful, you feel like you could fall into them and drown. There’s something trapped in cold waters down there, pleading for rescue.

Yeah, sure. If you were being unprofessional before, now you’re being a downright sentimental fool. This guy has probably shot people.

Despite being deep and rumbling, his voice sounds so quiet that it’s almost shy. “You don’t know what this means to me, to have a…nice moment... Thank you.”

“Oh – you’re welcome. It’s nothing, really.” You’re absolutely done for. “Um, do you want to stand up and stretch before we get back at it?”

“Mm-hm.”

Your brain is fried but you manage to hold it together while the both of you get back into position. The rest of the session goes pretty smoothly, and you talk a little more here and there. At first it’s just about how he should take care of this thing when it’s finished – staying out of the sun and all that. But then he starts to ask you about yourself - what you read, how you got into tattooing, your favorite designs. Everything you say seems to interest him. You can’t quite believe it but he’s obviously developing a crush on you. Or at least getting attached in some way. You can’t blame him, if the smallest friendly touch is such a foreign concept.

It's too soon when you place the finishing touches. “Okay! You want to take a look?” You help him up, his hand resting in yours for an instant as he slides off the bench, stiff and probably aching. It sends a jolt straight to your heart, to support some fraction of his weight and to feel the way his fingers squeeze down on yours before letting go. You mourn the contact instantly, and distract yourself by adjusting the two mirrors that reflect into each other, allowing him to see his back. “What do you think?”

“It does look cool actually.” He cracks a little heart-melting smile, and you’re really relieved. He may not have wanted it, but at least he’s not devastated.

“’Course it does, it was done by the best in the business,” you joke. Though to be honest, you really are impressed with your handiwork. Doing the same tattoo so many times pays off – each one has looked more polished than the last. It’s almost a shame to see him put his shirt back on…for multiple reasons.

“Oh, uh…” He fishes something out of his pocket. A wad of hard cash – a LOT of it, as usual. “Here’s the payment.” And then he’s leaving, before you can do anything, say anything, even catch the breath you’d lost trying to comprehend everything that just happened.

“Hey, wait!” You don’t really know what you’re going to say, but then he’s facing you again and you have to say something, and it just comes out. “…Do you need help? I don’t know what’s going on, but look, I’m not an idiot. I know something’s wrong here. I don’t know who Mrs. Petrov really is and I don’t care, but if you need me to do something, like…I don’t know, call a social worker or something or help you get transport out of the city...” Your voice falters. You have no idea what he’d need and even less idea how to provide it without getting both of you killed. And what if you’ve misread the whole situation? What if you’re completely out of line?

It certainly looks that way. It’s like a switch flips in him. “No. Whatever you do, don’t fucking try anything. It’s none of your business.” It’s the coldest he’s sounded. “You won’t see me again.” The door slams behind him.

You brace a hand against the counter behind you, shaking. How could you be so stupid, honestly. This emotional roller coaster isn’t worth it. You wish you’d never seen Mrs. Petrov, let alone this Jardani with his damn pain-soaked eyes and cornered-dog behavior. There’s something awful going on, and you can’t do anything about it, you’re just making it worse. If you can get out of this deal, you have to, even if it means getting out of the city. Maybe out west - San Francisco sounds nice this time of year.

You’re just putting yourself back together and trying to decide what the hell you’re gonna do when the door flings open again and he storms back though it, stopping short right in front of you. For a second, you just stare at each other, breathing hard. Then he catches the flash of foolish happiness in your eyes at seeing him again and musters his nerves.

And he. Fucking. Kisses. You. Forcefully, with his strong hands gripping your arms and his teeth colliding with yours, pulling, desperate, rebellious, like he’s trying to tell you something he’s not allowed to say. You’re pretty sure it’s, “Thank you. For being one of the few people who cared.”

And then he’s gone again, and this time, you can feel it: he’s never coming back.

[luvfy0dor]

"We're gonna be timeless !!" ♡⁠˖ BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Chuuya Nakahara, Nikolai Gogol

Warning; Spoilers for mersault arc/Fyodors means of communication in his part, soft!Fyodor bc I am goin thru it, relationship intolerance, Nikolais bit isn't in exact correlation w/ the song

Description; Drabbles inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift

A/N; Writing this while trying to figure out what to do for another fic help I'm so nervous the person isn't gonna like it but we ball 🫡 in Nikolais part I tried avoiding saying balls like it was the plague but yk

Love Letters w/ Fyodor Dostoevsky

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “I would've read your love letters every single night, and prayed to God you'd be comin' home alright”

• His love letters are romantic and very detailed, making sure he conveys exactly how much he misses you. He likes to write you short poems, understanding how much your heart swoons at the sweet and romantic words.

• Fyodor writes to you while he's in Yokohama, telling you how his plans are going and his estimated time of arrival at home. He continues this habit, even when in Mersault. He sends letters to you via the manipulated vampire guards, instructing them to take great care of the thin envelopes.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Your heart beats quickly as you made your way to your mailbox to check for a letter from your lover; already prepared for the slight sadness you'd experience should the small compartment be void of a note, yet still excited for the possibility of receiving one.

You excitedly open the door to the mailbox, grabbing the numerous envelopes that filled it. Sifting through them, you start to loose hope before your eyes land on the slightly sloppy handwriting of your boyfriend. You drop the various other things on the table, including bills and junk mail in order to pry open the letter excitedly. You make sure to do it carefully though as not to rip anything.

Once you've successfully separated the paper from the envelope, you lay down on the couch on your front while giggling excitedly. You unfold the paper and start to read the comforting and familiar handwriting, feeling as though this letter was a warm and sweet hug from the Russian man.

“My dearest, Y/N,

I know I restate the same thoughts in every letter I send to you, but I truly miss you more than anything in the outside world, including my freedom. I am perfectly fine in captivity, but it truly makes my heart ache to be without my love for so long. I hope you are doing well and holding up without me, not because I doubt your individuality, but I know just how much you miss me. It is the same way for me in this prison. Even with Dazais company, my heart doesn't feel nearly as full as it does when you are around, my dear. However, when our plan succeeds, we will get the happily ever after we deserve. As for our plans, they are going as intended currently.

I cannot wait to embrace you again and to feel the reassuring sensation of your breathing against my skin and feel your arms wrapped around me so tightly and lovingly. Though I would have went about my plans regardless of your support or not, I still appreciate you staying and supporting this, although I can only imagine it has caused you much stress. No worries though, my dear, we will prevail in the end no matter the obstacles. In the meantime, here is an excerpt from a poem I memorized many years ago, I feel it may catch your interest and reassure you a bit.

Wait for me, and I’ll be back,

Disregard the fate,

In the morning with my bag,

Should you only wait.

They will hardly understand,

How I could survive.

Waiting me from foreign land,

You have saved my life.

Let them say that it’s too late.

What you feeling tells?

I’ll be back, because you wait

Like nobody else.

Again, I miss you dearly. Just in case I needed to rephrase it, my heart will not rest until you are back in my presence, for I feel our souls are intertwined. I cannot wait to reunite with with you, my love. I will see you soon.

Sincerely, Fyodor Dostoevsky”

Your heart couldn't help but flutter as you held the letter to your chest, having rolled over onto your back. Your face is warm with blush as you smile and laugh. It was beyond you how Fyodor could remember all of the information he knew, as well as numerous languages and poetry, but you certainly weren't complaining. After all, your boyfriends sweet sayings made your day every time without fail. With every letter he sent, you only became more impatient for his return.

Eloping w/ Chuuya Nakahara

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “And run away and left it all behind, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless”

• Eloping with Chuuyas is such a fulfilling act, especially when you don't have people whispering in your ear about how dangerous it could be.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Romantic relationships with port mafia executives as an outsider or regular civilian were frowned upon in the organization, meaning if you and Chuuya were going to be together, you needed to be sneaky about it. The port mafia had connections all over the city, which really limited your options for dates, but you were both content with just lounging in each other's homes.

You loved leaning against his chest on his couch, a movie playing softly in the background as you both cuddled together. You liked cooking with him in your kitchen, making a mess together while giggling and then having to clean it up together. Every time you would just sit in his arms in your back yard, watching the wind blow the flowers and leaves around, was a memory with Chuuya that you were grateful for.

So, when your lover proposed the idea of elopement to you, you were over the moon. You had always wanted to marry him, youve know that he was your soulmate from the get go. Even in a billion lifetimes, you felt as though you would find each other repeatedly. You said yes, ofcourse, and started planning immediately.

It had gone exactly according to plan, too. The both of you wore rather nice clothing for the actual ceremony, exchanging pretty rings and slipping them on to one anothers fingers. The kiss you shared, the first one of your elopement, was like no other. It felt sweeter with emotion and certainly tasted that way, too, because of Chuuyas cherry chapstick. You held each other's hands tightly as you quickly walked out of the courthouse, getting into the car that had been packed with as many necessary belongings as possible, including but not limited to clothing, legal documents, and money.

Sure, the luxury of a port mafia salary was one that would probably be missed by the both of you, allowing a nicer place to stay and finer wines to drink, but you could live with Chuuya in a rundown shack for all he cared. As long as he was with you, he would be perfectly happy. Chuuya is a romantic at heart under his tougher exterior, only letting bits and pieces of that romanticism slip through the cracks.

Chuuya drove with you down long and winding roads, the both of you deciding to end the day by stargazing while sitting on the trunk of the car. You sat on Chuuyas lap, his face pressed against your back. He drew soft shapes on any part of skin within his reach, even tracing out letters and words, spelling terms of endearment such as "my love".

"You know, I don't doubt one bit that mafia affiliates could be lurkin' around here, but it's much less likely. Something like this would be frowned upon real hard back home, which is why I feel I will never regret this decision." He says, speaking straight from his heart, not caring about vulnerability anymore. He had you, and you would be the very last person to take advantage of such a delicate thing.

A grin tugs at the corner of your lips with enough force to change your facial expression immediately. You leaned back into his touch, your hand caressing his that sat against your abdomen, hugging you closer to him. "I won't ever regret it either. I'll never regret any decision I make for you, my love." You softly murmur, looking up at the stars in the beautiful, blue night sky. The blue night sky filled with glamorous and shiny stars, yet they could never compare to the shimmery glint in Chuuyas eyes every time he came around you. The blue night sky that provided a calming darkness in the world, allowing you to further relax against your, now husband's, body.

"I'll always love you, darlin', I'm so happy I can openly have you now." He speaks quietly against your shoulder, almost whispering. You reach your hand back to gently touch his hair a bit. "Me too, my love. Me too."

Crowded Streets w/ Nikolai Gogol

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “In another life, you still would've turned my head, even if we met on a crowded street in 1944”

• Should you meet Nikolai during one of his street performances and accidentally fall victim to his juggling skills (or lack there of) , he would look forward to seeing you around the town and in the streets again to make up for his fumble with an entertaining mini-show.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Walking through the busy streets, your eyes fell upon a tall man, dressed as a jester while standing on the sidewalk. "A street performer." You simply thought, trying to discreetly glance at him without making eye contact and avoid the make believe obligation to give him money. You noticed that he was juggling, tossing three red balls in the rotational pattern while blabbering on about random things to passersby.

You lowered your head as to not look at him or make eye contact as you started to pass him, before you're head jerks right back up at the loud man's voice saying "watch out!". Right in front of your face was one of the red, foam spheres, kept motionless between two bony, lanky fingers covered in the cloth of the mans red gloves.

"Aw, I'm real sorry, darlin'! That sure was close, wasn't it?" He says, his bright, toothy grin glimmering in the sunlight. You nod, inhaling and steadying your heart rate.

"Yeah, no worries though, it didn't actually hit me." You say, a bit embarrassed by the situation for seemingly no reason. He slinks backwards into a completely upright position. "I wouldn't have let it hit you regardless, sweet cheeks." He says as he creates a portal and tosses his props into the yellow opening. He rests his fingers on his chin while examining you. "You've got quite a lovely complexion! You must be quite popular when it comes to romantic affairs, I'm sure of it." He compliments. The other people bustling by make you topple a bit as their shoulders bump into yours. Nikolai gently grabs your hand and leads you away from the crowd into a more spacious area.

"You're quite handsome if I do say so myself. Especially that scar." You say, pointing at the healed wound. He smiles. "Well thank you, how sweet is that." He excitedly beams. He removes his hat from his head and slightly bows towards you. "I have yet to formally introduce myself, I am Nikolai Gogol." He says, adjusting his posture yet again to be standing straight up. You smile. "Hello, Nikolai. My name is Y/n." You smile with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

"Well then, Y/n, can I ask you if you enjoy quizzes?" He asks, his head tilted, gravity dragging the long braid along with his movements. You furrow your eyebrows a little. "I'm not too fond of the academic ones, if I'm being honest. Silly ones I don't mind." You say with a small shrug of your shoulders. He laughs.

"Perfect! Let me quiz you then, Y/n." He takes your hands in his excitedly. "Are you aware of the difference between a jester and a clown?" He says, his face about the length of a outstretched palms thumb to pinky tip away from yours. You think for a moment before speaking. "Clowns follow a routine, whereas jesters are more spontaneous and satirical, no?" You say, gazing into his eyes, surprising yourself with your eagerness to hear words of confirmation or denial slip from between his crimson painted lips. He pulls back and claps a bit.

"That's right! Marvelous! How smart you are." He says, removing his hat and placing it on top of your head. "Not many people get that right, you know? Many peoples first answer revolves around a jester being a part of a royal court, but that is simply not their differentiating characteristic." He says, patting your shoulder with a grin. You keep eye contact for a couple of seconds before he erupts into a fit of snickers.

"I'm around this area often during the week. You should come see me, I can promise to give you the very best show I can muster." He grins and with that, he is gone through a portal. He has left you there, a bit flustered as you held onto the hat tightly. You suppressed the excitement in your heart before sneaking out into the crowded pathways once again. Maybe you would take him up on that.

[chuuyasheaven]

“Cockwarminʼ Cuddles”— Atsushi Nakajima

“Working at the agency has the both of you exhausted, mentally and physically. After another stressful day, you and Atsushi wanted to cuddle— nothing more. But during the session, you both realized you were yearning for each other, so you came up with another idea.”

Tags: soft! Atsushi Nakajima / afab! Reader, soft sex, lazy sex, pet names, praising kink, cockwarming, cuddling, ADA! Reader, pw/op, might contain grammar errors, lazy, rushed, SHORT, etc.

Notes: I'M SO SORRY GUYS I GOT SICKKK. I know there's like two fics/drabbles lacking, but I'll be catching up, i swear! First, let me try and finish this week. Also school started again, and since this is my last and important year i might fall behind the schedule.. But let's continue!! XD

Finally, the day was over and you both could relax. Since last week, the agency has picked up a lot of missions, which were stressing the both of you out. Opon coming home, Atsushi only wanted to hold you in his arms, and so did you. But when you actually got to lay down, getting really close to him and all, you could tell that Atsushi wanted more than just cuddle. Realizing that you guys didn't do anything sexual since last week. You really wanted to do something, but at the same time, you didn't, so you guys came up with a small adjustment.

Right now, your head was resting on his chest, while Atsushi's cock rested inside of you, cockwarming him. Even though you really wanted to move, you didn't. This was relaxing to you to just lay there without doing anything. Hell, you literally could've fallen asleep with how chill this was. But Atsushi, he was slightly struggling with this. He wanted to move desperately, but he needed to relax. "Does it. . feel good?", he asked you quietly, you nodded. You moved a little to adjust yourself to your liking, only to feel Atsushi twitch inside you. "S–shit. .", he hissed, this was torturous but also felt good as hell. He was resisting to but even so, he could be cumiming without doing so. Atsushi was trying to hold it in, but you felt him already leaking. Now you had the urge to move your hips to feel him cum.

Suddenly, Atsushi held your waist, moving you himself. This made you moan in surprise as he continued, slowly finding a rhythm. You were really close despite him just getting started. “A–atsushi. .”, you whimpered quietly, Atsushi was just breathing heavily. Soon enough, you reached your climax. You tried to calm down, but Atsushi kept going, holding your leg in his hand and thrusting into your cunt. All this time you guys never switched the position. “Good girl,”, he choked out, feeling his first orgasm get closer, while you were close to your second.

“You feel so good around me, darling. .”, he huffed, you kept on moaning while praise was falling off Atsushi's lips, those same lips which were kissing you right now. Slightly speeding up, your second climax was approaching faster. “I–i'm close,”, you gasped, as Atsushi rocked his hips against yours. “I love you, baby.”, he whispered when he finally came inside of you. “Me too,”, You responded while gushing around his cock for a second time. “I love you so much, Atsu.”, you finished off, calming down from your orgasm.

“—Do you wanna keep going or do you want to keep cuddling?”

this is so cringe and embarrassing, so i will add my taglist later on. Besides, CHUUYA WILL BE HOME SOON !!

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

~ Bonded by a Ring | JJK

Pairing: CEO!husband!Jungkook x writer!fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: arranged marriage, fluff, a bit of angst. (This is a light chapter tbh, I can't think of anymore triggering content. Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: We take a look at your life as Mrs. Jeon, wife of the rich heir to Jeon Enterprises, Jungkook. He was a handsome gentleman who you were able to call your husband yet the relationship between you both was entirely political and civil. Could feelings begin to sparkle between the cracks of marriage?

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This was supposed to come out yesterday on Kook's birthday but I was busy and I couldn't edit it but here it is! I'll continue writing this small drabble series when I find the time while also working on other fics I hope to be able to publish soon.

Let me know your thoughts on this one in the comments, please! Drabbles are open for this au in case you want to request something my inbox is open!!💜

It was dark outside. Dusk had settled a while ago and your husband was still not home. You worried for him, for his health. He worked so much and rested too little.

You were sitting on the couch, your laptop rested atop your folded legs. Glancing at the clock you noticed how it was nearly midnight. You sighed. This was not new for you. For Jungkook to always come home late, seldom were those times in which he dined with you.

Rarely did you ever go to bed together as you often found yourself curled in the large mattress without him to keep you warm during the night.

You and Jungkook have been married for some months now. A marriage that was arranged by his parents. A marriage that was of advantage to you both for he needed to have a wife and an heir to inherit his family's company and you, well you needed his name.

As an author who had published her first novel, you became really popular in the world of words and books and you could thank it all to your husband's marketing team.

There was no love between you two. But you didn't hate him either. The relationship between you and Jungkook was a polite one, he was ever the gentleman with you and in exchange he obtained your respect.

You cared for him to a certain extent. You always made sure he never left for work on an empty stomach and had ready some light dinner for when he came home late. You always made sure his shirts were ironed and his shoes polished.

And in return, Jungkook always gave you anything you could possibly need. Do you have an appointment with your editor? He'd make sure his chauffeur would drive you there. Do you need some new clothes? You could always use his credit card. Do you want to get Bam a new toy? He’d made sure to bring you the best catalogues he could find for you to choose what to buy for the spoiled dog who had earned your heart too quickly.

It was a balanced relationship. He respected you, you respected him. Jungkook had his life, you had yours. But to the public, you both were a happily married couple. While inside closed doors, you treated each other as an old acquaintance of another lifetime.

Your attention got stolen by the sound of the electronic lock as the front door opened and in came Jungkook. Even from where you sat, you could see the tiredness in his body. The exhaustion.

You put the laptop aside before standing up and walking towards him. You took his coat from his hands and presented his slippers to him.

If Jungkook hadn't been that tired at that moment he'd have thanked you with a soft smile.

"I'm glad you're home, do you want to eat something? I can heat you up some dinner if you'd like?"

He let out a sigh, the stress, problems and frustration from work were getting on his nerves. And to even think that he had to go back tomorrow...

"No, I'm fine, (y/n). I just want to sleep."

You nodded, placing his coat in the hanger while putting his shoes in its place. The scent of his cologne invaded your senses and your touch lingered on the heavy robe he previously wore for longer than needed.

Your eyes followed his figure as he disappeared in one of the hallways and into the bedroom you both shared. You have never minded sharing a room with him, let alone the bed. The other two rooms in the large flat were transformed in your study while the other was his personal gym.

Walking back into the living room, you saved the draft of the story you had been working on for some time now before you powered off your laptop.

For a moment, your eyes lingered on the city lights. They looked so close yet so far at the same time. The large glass windows that reached from the floor up to the ceiling allowed you to see such a beautiful view.

You felt a sudden sense of loneliness wash over you. Something that felt strange in you, something you couldn't describe, let alone place its source.

With a sigh you turned around, your arms were hugging your figure as you approached the couch once more. You placed the laptop on the coffee table before walking towards the bedroom, turning the lights off on your way.

Jungkook was already lying down on his side of the bed, his back facing you. With quick and silent movements you approached the other side of the bed and sat down before getting yourself under the covers.

You assumed your husband was already asleep as deep breaths could be heard in the quietness of the place. You turned on your right side, facing his back as you shut your tired eyes after having been in front of a screen for too long.

"Goodnight, (y/n)."

Those whispered words reached you before you fell into your deep slumber. You mumbled the words back as you succumbed to the tiredness in your body.

"Goodnight, Jungkook."

Little were you aware of the fluttering in your husband's heart at your words. Of the small smile that graced his lips at the little attentions you always gave him. By the way you were slowly entering his heart without you having the slightest idea.

Jungkook was woken up by his noisy alarm and he cursed under his breath before turning the frustrating noise off. With a sigh he sat up, one of his hands ruffled his hair before he stood up and went to the bathroom as he needed to get ready to go to the company yet again.

After taking a shower and getting dressed, Jungkook stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft noise that nearly echoed in the overly silent apartment.

"Bam, stop it. You already had breakfast."

He heard your voice from somewhere in his large home as the smell of coffee suddenly hit him. His feet carried him over the hallway and across the living room until he entered the kitchen that faced the dining area.

Jungkook saw how you had prepared a plate filled with fruit and some yoghurt as well as a cup of coffee. He couldn't help the smile that grew on his face, the moment itself was precious as if gotten out of one of the dramas he had caught you watching from time to time when you needed inspiration to write or to simply pass the time.

His stomach fluttered when you lifted your gaze from the large yet cute dog who stole your attention to look at your husband. A smile on your own was painted over your lips.

Time seemed to stop when your eyes met his, Jungkook didn't know for how long the both of you stayed like that. As if trapped in a loop of time of perfection. Almost like a real married couple did.

He broke eye contact and cleared his throat, as if snapping himself from some kind of spell. A spell only you conjure over me. The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it. Your smile disappeared from your face as you looked aside, your cheeks heating.

"Did... did you sleep well?"

You asked after a moment or two of silence. Even Bam stopped moving by your side as if somehow the canine felt the subtle tension rising in the kitchen.

"Yes, thank you."

Then it was awkward again. You didn't know what to say. He wasn't moving, neither were you. He didn't seem to want to lift his gaze as it was placed on the white floor beneath his feet. As if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"I made you some breakfast. It is not healthy for you to leave on an empty stomach, Jungkook."

He hummed, walking toward the stool before sitting down, his breakfast resting on the marble counter.

"I'm going to take a shower."

You excused yourself and left the kitchen, not allowing your husband to say anything as the next second you were already walking down the hallway.

A sigh left your lips as you leaned on the closed door of your shared bedroom. What just happened? You thought to yourself while pressing the back of your hands up to your cheeks to try and cool down the skin that felt suddenly too hot.

You decided a cold shower would help you clear your mind so you didn't waste another minute to grab your clothes and hop into the shower, allowing the cool water to run down your body and refresh your mind.

Jungkook sat at the stool, spoon in hand as he ate the last of his yoghurt. His cup of coffee was already half empty when you emerged from the bedroom, your hair was wet and you were wearing fresh clothes.

The scent of your shampoo hit him and there it was, the fluttering in his heart, the soft churning of his stomach.

He emptied the bowl with his breakfast and downed the remnants of his coffee before he stood up.

"I have to leave now."

Your hands picked up his bowl and cup as you placed them on the sink.

"Have a nice day, Jungkook."

He didn't know what was happening. Everyday you woke up and prepared some breakfast for him, sometimes he ate it at the flat other times he took it with him to eat it at the office.

Why was he feeling so strange right now when what you were doing was completely normal?

You turned to look at him with a warm smile over your lips, ignoring the way your heart sped up a little by the mere sight of him or the way you felt your palms begin to sweat due to the nerves of being with him in the same room.

He mirrored your smile and you swore you had seen Heaven. You loved his smile. You had always found it pretty. It suited him. Not that you had ever told him that but it was a thought you had had since you first met.

"Don't forget to have breakfast, (y/n). I'll try to come back a bit earlier today."

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the thought of him coming home at a decent hour from work.

"Oh, that's good. Have a nice day, then."

You mentally face-palmed yourself. You already wished him a good day, idiot! But he chuckled, walking away from the kitchen and toward the front door. You watched him like every other day, you watched him put his coat on as well as his shoes.

Jungkook turned around and smiled at you before he was out of the door, the soft click of the lock echoed so loudly in the now nearly empty flat.

You sighed, going back to the kitchen to prepare something to eat for yourself. Just like Jungkook told you. The promise of his early arrival set a smile on your lips once more. Wanting to be with him again, even when he had just left not even five minutes ago.

The reason for this new feeling? You didn't know. But you couldn't say you didn't like it either. Jungkook was your husband after all, it was only natural to want to be close and spend time with the person one marries, right?

"Jungkook, are you listening?"

His head turned to look at the side only to spot Jimin, one of his close friends and co-workers already looking at him with an expectant and curious expression over his delicate features.

"Sorry, what?"

Jimin sighed, a hand running through his blond hair.

"I was saying that we need to close the deal with Mr. Cha as soon as possible. It will help us increase our sales."

Jungkook let out a deep breath as his thumb kept clicking and clicking the pen that was in his grasp.

"I know. I'm sorry, hyung. I have a lot on my mind right now."

Jimin clicked his tongue as he put some files aside.

"Yeah, I figured. I'll ask Hoseok to look into this and bring you the contract for you to sign."

"Thanks, Jimin-ssi."

The latter smiled, more than smirked and said, his hands tangling in front of him over the table.

"Now tell me, what is bothering you?"

Jungkook knew his friend was going to ask that question sooner or later. He leaned back on his chair and said, fidgeting with the pen in between his fingers.

"It's (y/n)."

If Jungkook had been looking at his friend, he'd have seen how Jimin's eyes widened at the mention of your name. He had met you on a couple of occasions, one of them being your wedding with his younger friend, that's why he grew surprised when you were the centre of Jungkook's current state of mind.

"What happened? Did you two fight or something?"

The doe-eyed man shook his head, placing his pen on the table before his eyes locked with the curious gaze of one of his closest friends.

"What? No, I don't think I could ever fight with her."

Jimin hummed, allowing him to continue.

"It's just that... man I don't know. I can't sleep, I can barely eat. My mind is always racing with the mere idea of her. This morning I saw her smile and... I just thought of how beautiful she looked while smiling. I want to make her smile like that, you know? I want her to be happy and to smile at me like that everyday, Jimin."

There was a moment of silence between the two men. Seconds tickled by, the silence stretched. Nearly swallowing the younger man with his own thoughts and racing heart.

"What? Don't you have something to say, Jimin-ah? You are always teasing me and when I tell you something serious you stay quiet."

The blond haired man seemed to snap out of his own mind. The only thought in his head was the one of Finally!

"You like her."

Stated Jimin. There existed no ounce of hesitation in those three words.

"What?!"

Jimin rolled his eyes, if anyone had seen the scene they would have thought it to be comical.

"Shhh, don't shout like that. I simply said that you like her. You like (y/n), Kook."

Jungkook swallowed. The possibility hadn't even crossed his mind. Did he- did he truly have feelings for you?

"But how?"

Jimin refrained himself from smacking Jungkook on the back of his head. Perhaps they were both speaking as friends right now but the blond man had to remind himself that Jungkook was technically his boss too. At least his future boss.

"Jungkook, it's completely normal. She is your wife, she's been living with you for months now. It actually surprises me that this hadn't happened before considering your one year anniversary is in two weeks."

The heir to Jeon Enterprises was too stunned to speak. Jimin had revealed a reality his heart already knew but his mind rejected to accept for he couldn't deny his friend's statement. He liked you, he really did. And now, he saw his situation with way more clarity than before.

"What do I do now, Jimin? Should I tell her how I feel?"

The older man laughed a bit. His eyes closed with the motion.

"See? You didn't deny it! You really like her, huh?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, not liking the teasing from his friend.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Aish, you are totally clueless when it comes to romance, aren't you? Listen, Kook, first you have to know if she likes you back. Don't just open your heart where there could be a field of thorns, gift her things and see her reaction, do things for her and pay attention to her words, if she gets flustered or not. And if she doesn't show any signs, well then you have to win her heart."

Jungkook still had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know in order to act on the feelings his heart was treasuring. You were his wife, wasn't a marriage supposed to be sweet?

What he had with you wasn't bitter, but he found himself craving as of lately that sweet love of the heart.

He wished to be with you like a husband loves his wife, not only bounded by a ring but by sentiment too. To be tangled in the web of feelings that threatened to blossom in his heart with every thought of you, every single memory of you.

And he was going to do just that. To fight for your love. To win your heart or claim it if his name was already written in your soul for him to live in such a sacred place.

Bonded by rings, destined by fate. Claimed by society, yearning for a life by your side.

~Masterpost

Sept/02/2023

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

[divinehedons]

you write THE BEST dark fics like oh golly you execute it with such poise and charm 🫵 i saw you're looking for drabble ideas so i've been wondering.. what are your thoughts on jealous joel miller?! just him being disgustingly jealous that it's consuming him. oh that paired with the miscommunication trope.. i'm salivating..

side note: this emerged as i was mulling over bacon and eggs in my sleepy, migraine-y brain :'D

ann, you're an actual angel and i love you wtf! thank you for bringing pstar!joel into our lives, and i hope you enjoy! nsfw and dark themes (stalking(??), possessiveness) under the cut!

joel miller and the five stages of envy

i think it's very rarely that joel miller feels envy. he's an adult, for god's sake, and he knows you better than you know yourself. so when that insatiable head of envy turns to him, it's something that he does not take lightly.

it always begins with the seedling of doubt. when you don't kiss him the moment you see him. when he has to call your name for a moment or two before you finally look to him with all your attention. he'll try to reason with himself. maybe you were just tired. maybe you were just stressed. he'll take you to his arms and kiss your temple sweetly, as if his lips could take away whatever was distracting you from him.

however, his envy would only persist with confirmation. one scapegoat to explain everything, no matter how false. one time it had been your childhood friend. another time, it was your boss. whoever or whatever it was, he becomes hyperaware of the inconsistency. he'd ask you in bed, moments before you fall asleep. "any plans, doll?" you'd mumble something, seeing christopher tomorrow, or something else so innocent. it'll haunt him. images of you in someone else's arms, fucked open by fingers that were not his own. he'd lean down and kiss the crook of your neck. "don't have too much fun, darlin'."

in the morning, he'll try to rationalize it. you're a grown person, he trusts you. of course you can have friends of your own. it's not enough. it was never enough. when you kiss his cheek and run out the door, he takes a deep breath, counts to a thousand, before opening his eyes. of course he has to do something

then, there was escalation. suddenly it was him sitting three tables away, your back to him, watching the way this "friend" smiles and laughs with you. he doesn't find it twisted, doesn't find it troubling. you were just so precious, of course you needed someone to keep an eye on you. and of course he was the one to do it. you're all his. he's not going to let some sleezy boy get all over you that easily.

so, then, conclusion is inevitable. he reacts. he shoots up from the table, trying to ignore the pounding of the vein on his temple as he approaches your table, wrapping an arm so easily around your shoulder. he makes a quick, flimsy excuse to pull you out of your chair and into the nearest restroom, forehead creasing as you try and derive answers from him.

"what the fuck, joel? i was having a good time-"

"is that what'cha call it, doll? whorin' around some guy like you're not mine?" he growls, large hand pinning you by your neck to the nearest wall. you stammer, try to explain, try to free yourself. "guess i don't remind you enough that i own you, sweet girl."

"it wasn't like that. he was just-"

your words fall short when you feel his fingers up your skirt, pushing your panties aside to fuck two into you, making your breath hitch and your eyes glaze over. true pavlovian response. as if the feel of his fingertips, and only his fingertips, was enough to silence your protestations.

it was easier this way, anyway: reminding you of just who you belonged to when you're crying for his cock while he smirks down at you. you always come back for him, anyway.

"that's it, doll. have i made myself perfectly clear to ya?"

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Hello could you do more fics about ballister head injury?(love your worke❤️)

THIS RESPAWNED IN MY DRAFTS HOLY SHIT

I'm so glad you love my work thank you so much for this ask 🩷 sorry it took so long but as I had said in another post, my Tumblr ate it for breakfast and it was disappeared from my askbox and drafts. But it reappeared!!! Please enjoy your very late drabble request <3

Cw: seizures, brain injury

Ballister leaned against Ambrosius, closing his eyes. “You sleepy, Bal?”

“Mhm.” Ballister rubbed his eyes. “I couldn't get to sleep last night. Kept having headaches and weird dreams.”

“That's no good, babe. Try to take it easy today. Do you think it's your head?”

“He just said it was his head, duh.” Nimona cut in. She'd been back for the past couple months, and she and Ambrosius were still getting used to each other. Ballister chuckled. “It's probably fine.” Ambrosius made a worried face.

Eight months ago, when Ballister was on the run, he'd suffered considerable head trauma, several times, one after another after another. The whole thing left Ballister with considerable brain damage in the frontal and temporal lobes especially. It was especially significant in the first few weeks after everything happened, when he was often unsteady on his feet, spoke with slurred speech, struggled with short term memory, understanding rapid or unclear speech, and extreme emotional outbursts where he would be extremely afraid, sad, angry, or happy without apparent cause. He'd also started having seizures at that time. Ambrosius learned to deal with them, but he always hoped each one would be Ballister's last. The doctor said they'd stop eventually, but they never knew when eventually would come.

Thankfully, since then, his brain had healed tremendously. Still, Ambrosius couldn't help but worry when Ballister had anything going on with his head.

“Alright, well, just be careful, okay? Don't strain yourself.” He kissed Ballister's cheek.

Nimona cackled. “Come on, Nemesis. I don't think the boss is gonna let some dumb headache slow him down! He's not made of glass, you know. He's ten percent solid steel and a hundred percent badass!”

“My arm makes up five percent of my weight, Nimona, also it's made of titanium.” Ballister smiled at her.

“See? Even cooler.” She returned to what she was doing and Ambrosius sighed. Maybe he was being a little overly anxious.

But as the day went on, Ballister seemed off. Foggy, distracted, a little bit uncharacteristically emotional or snippy sometimes. Even Nimona noticed, Ambrosius could see the puzzlement in her face even if she said nothing. It all came to a head later that day, they were at a park and they were noticed by members of the public, who started their usual barrage, asking frankly triggering questions and requesting photographs and signatures.

Ambrosius was used to all that, but while Ballister was somewhat accustomed to it, it always stressed him out. Ambrosius managed to fish his lover and Nimona away from the paparazzi and back to the safety of their vehicle.

“You guys alright?” Ambrosius started it up, flying through the airways. Ballister didn't answer, he glanced over. “Bal?”

His lover looked distant, blinking fast, looking around in a haze. “Do you, lemon?”

“What?” Oh shit. “Nimona, take his arm off!” Ambrosius began landing the vehicle in a safe place.

“What?” She looked quizzically from the backseat.

“Now! He's having a seizure, the prosthetic is wired to his nerves and muscle, the electrical signals can make it go nuts!”

Ballister knew a seizure was coming when he tasted lemon out of nowhere. They needed to get it together quickly, he was already having trouble speaking.

Quickly Nimona reached forward and disconnected the arm, and not a moment too soon. Ballister’s face twisted and his head began to jerk, along with his right leg, a rhythmic back and forth motion. Once Ambrosius was safely parked, he grabbed the blanket from the back seat and cushioned Ballister's head, and started a timer on his phone. A car was not the ideal place for this to happen, he wasn't completely sure of the protocol. Ballister was at least buckled, so he couldn't collapse into the dashboard. “It's okay, Bal.” He whispered softly. Everything will be okay.”

Nimona's eyes were wide with terror. After sixty-two seconds, Ballister went still, his eyes blearily gazing in front of him, foggy. Ambrosius stroked his hair. “It's over, love. It's over. You're okay.”

Nimona swallowed. “What happened to him?”

Ambrosius exited the vehicle and came around to open Ballister's door so he could more closely check up on him. He unbuckled him and helped him out of the car, supporting most of his weight. “Nimona, let me lay him in the back, he needs to lay on his side.”

Nimona moved out of the way. “What happened to him?”

Once Ballister was laid safely in a recovery position, Ambrosius sat beside the car and stroked his hair. “He had a seizure.”

“A seizure? I thought you had to be born with those. I've never seen him do this before.”

“He hit his head, a lot, after–” Ambrosius swallowed. “After what I did to him. It all added up, and left enough damage that this happens sometimes. Eventually it's supposed to go away, but we have no idea when. He's okay, he just won't be able to talk for a few minutes. Will you sit back here with him? Just make sure he's breathing okay, and try to comfort him while I drive home. Sometimes he gets a little emotional. You can give his arm back, too.” He swallowed. He wanted to comfort Ballister, but he needed to get them home safely. Ballister could recover better at home.

Nimona didn't seem to know what to do, but for once, she didn't argue. Ambrosius drove home hearing her speak softer than he ever had, in a reassuring voice.

When they got home, they managed to assist Ballister inside. He could now understand speech and get out a word here and there, but he was mostly disoriented and exhausted. Once Ambrosius checked that his breathing was normal, and he didn't have any severe bites in his mouth, he tucked him into their bed and let him rest, setting a timer to wake him up and check on him.

Nimona looked gaunt, she paced the living room.

“Aren't you a thousand years old? I thought you'd be used to things like seizures. This wasn't a bad one, thankfully. He's okay, you don't have to worry.” Ambrosius was a hypocrite. He was extremely worried.

She shook her head. “Not that, I mean, I've seen them before, they're normal, I've known thousands of people– but I didn't realize— I didn't realize someone could hurt their head so easily.” She whispered.

“What do you mean?”

She swallowed. “He got hit in the face with a rock when the Institute blew up. And I dragged him home. And I didn't even try to make sure he didn't hit his head! He was getting smacked into curbs left and right and– and I thought it was funny!” She rubbed her face. “I haven't been close with a human in so long, I forgot how fragile they were, how even something like that– it's partially my fault, don't you get it? I was careless and he hit his head and now he's suffering because of me.”

Ambrosius swallowed. Ballister told him about how Nimona said he'd hit his head on the curb when she took him home, and yes, it had contributed to several in a series of head injuries. He sat on the couch. “Nimona, it's not your fault. I knew about that. The doctor said the concussions hadn't helped, but most of the damage was from the debris, from Todd beating him up, and from when he fell through the stadium floor. It's just– how it is.”

Nimona sat on the couch beside him and sniffed. “You don't understand. I forgot how easily humans can be hurt. How easily they can die.”

“Oh…” Ambrosius looked down. “Well, for what it's worth, I don't think he'd be here at all if it wasn't for you. Humans are weak, but Ballister is strong. He's kind, resilient, and forgiving– I know that better than anyone. He's gonna be fine. Don't beat yourself up.”

Nimona sniffed and smiled at him. “Thanks, nemesis.”

[box-architecture]

CKAU: Part One of ???

I often find myself struggling to write the first chapter of the Communication Knife AU.

When I first started writing awesamdream, it was me spitballing ideas in the dreblr minecraft server when it first opened, and trying to have fun with a ship that, at the time, wasn't considered A Big Thing, or was purely for whump purposes. And while writing for an AU, Sif was also there, poking and tormenting lovingly as a Sif does, and mentioned the concept of Auspisticism, a homestuck relationship, in regards to Dream, Sam, and Punz. And then one thing led to another, and now I have this big thing that makes me happy and had grown a lot bigger than I expected it to, and there's so many little drabbles and snippets and smut pieces that came out of it, that by the time new people started asking what the hell I was talking about, I realized that the context wasn't properly put together and hard to explain.

So I tried to put together a whole fic for it! And it hasn't been going well.

Because I really want to do the fic justice. I want to make it sound really lovely and use all the right words and explain very well all the things that made me insane so you can understand just the way it went when all this started! But in trying to do that, it's become so hard to write. I feel stuck, the words won't come, I overthink and overedit, and nothing is good enough.

But I still really, really do want to explain the AU so you can understand. And i know it won't be the perfect, well designed thing I built in my head, with all the write prose and all the little extra fancy things, but I'd rather you have it imperfectly than not at all.

Here you go, part one of ???:

(Sam: he/him

Dream: he/him

Punz: they/he

just to make sure.)

When things get bad for Dream in prison, he offers Sam sexual favors in return for better treatment, food/blankets/etc., and Sam agrees to this, regardless of the terrible ethics involved. Its not a great situation, for like, Obvious Reasons, and the consent is very much dubious here. Sam's possessive behavior is at its peak, and even if there ends up being less torture as part of the deal, it doesn't change that things are still fucked up.

When Dream escapes prison and finds Sam during Daedalus Arc, after scarring Sam, Dream offers to meet up to have sex again next week, out of a need to feel in control, to prove how he was Totally Not Traumatized he was and how he was absolutely fully capable of consenting to it, and the two continue their sexual activities.

However, Punz, who has been in a comfortably open relationship with Dream since before prison, bristles at the idea of Sam taking advantage of Dream, of the severe power imbalance still being a problem, and comes with him to these sexual encounters to protect him and keep Sam from pushing Dream's boundaries. They set up some rules, and if Sam breaks any or steps out of line, Punz will stab him with a special, gaudy blue knife that has 'Communication' engraved in its handle.

--

"He tortured you!"

"Technically it was Quackity who did the torturing." Dream corrected him, meticulously sorting his inventory. Their base felt suffocating, tiny, and he wanted to be done and gone already, but Punz seemed ready to fight him the whole way.

"Don't give me that shit," Punz snapped. "Sam let him in, he starved you half to death, for God's sake, Dream, he r-"

"It was not." At breakneck speed, Dream turned on his heel and hissed. "I said yes. Don't you dare say I didn't."

"You weren't in a position to say no." Punz said fiercely. Something dark and angry crushed their heart in its fist. "You didn't have any choice-"

"I had a choice!"

The world seemed to stop moving, the air stale. Dreams breaths were shaky, heaving, and Punz realized with a lump in their throat that Dream was trembling from stress.

"I had a choice." Dream repeated. "And it was mine. Not his, not anyone's. I'm going to see him again, and that's my choice too. Not yours."

They could stop him, a little voice in the back of their head murmured. They could stop him and- and keep him safe. Prevent anyone else from hurting him again. They could say the right words that would cause him to falter ("for me." Punz had once pleaded, and Dream bent, as he always did) and then Sam would never touch him. They could even kill the creeper hybrid, to be sure. They would destroy the entire server with the Plan, and Dream would finally be safe.

But.

Dream needed this. Whatever he said, whatever he thought, he'd been denied agency for so long. The thought of them being the one to take it away, his friend, when they were supposed to be the one person on the server who he could trust… it made them feel sick.

Dreams trembling faded, and he straightened up, before he throwing his cloak over his shoulder.

Punz made his decision. "I'm coming with you."

"What?"

"I'm your backup, and your mercenary, and your partner. If Sam has a problem with it, just say you rehired me."

--

At the very beginning, the rules are this:

No Kissing. Punz doesn't think Sam deserves kisses, and they're vicious about enforcing this. Kisses are for Punz alone, and Sam is incredibly jealous.

No marks. Sam has tried to leave hickies or bruises, but it was quickly shut down. When he argued this, Punz told him that he could leave marks when all the marks (torture scars) he already made on Dream were gone.

No cuddling or aftercare. Since Sam insisted that the sex didn't mean anything, clearly that means he doesn't need to be involved in taking care of Dream after. Punz will take him away and they can be the one to hold Dream. (Not that Sam longed for that. He doesn't feel more desperate each time the two leave him behind. Of course not.)

The most obvious one: what Dream says goes. Sam isn't allowed to Override Dream and insist his way is better, and he isn't allowed to take whatever he wants without asking. If Dream needs a moment, or would like to change positions, or even just say he'd rather not, Sam must listen. Punz will make him listen.

And so every week all three of them get together, usually at the prison, and have sex. Its a very complicated, unhealthy dynamic, for a lot of different reasons.

Punz, usually able to gauge what Dream wants/what would make him comfortable, is left blind, because Dream is always a little uncomfortable here, always stressed, and Punz can't fix that. They're trying their best, and they know that Dream could shut down and be unable to express himself if the wrong button is pushed, but in the beginning its a mess. At some point he micromanages where Sam puts his hands, pushing and arguing with him over whose allowed to say where Sam can and can't touch, and neither of the two argue that it should be Dream.

It doesn't help that Punz is jealous. They don't want to be, especially not in this situation. But Sam's possessiveness of Dream, the way he taunts about knowing Dream in ways nobody else possibly could- it sets off that part of Punz that has always been so self-satisfied with his place as Dream's most intimate companion, the other half of his soul.

(Its the server's second stupidest dick measuring contest where they accidentally objectify Dream in the process, while they also compete to see who Dream likes more.)

Sam, on the other hand, is constantly having to reckon with the fact that he wasn't actually as good as he thought he was. Punz doesn't let him get away with spewing the same lines of crap and insisting he's always right. Sam also considered himself A Good Lover and good at getting Dream off (the only one who knows him, who knows him Best), and his ego takes a fucking hit when Punz corrects him. When Punz points out that certain things were actually harmful/not enjoyable, its hard for Sam to accept because it means he fucked up and made assumptions in his head and Punz rubs each of those in.

Sam tries to defend himself by pointing out that Dream went along with it, and which leads to Punz pointing out that he didn't have much of a choice/wasn't in a good situation to make that choice at the time, and that's the one time it nearly comes to blows between them before Dream speaks up to tell them both to knock it off.

(Sam discovers One (1) kink that Punz doesn't know about and he's so fucking smug about it despite fucking up literally everything else.)

(No matter how many wins Sam thinks he gets during their weekly time together, Punz still gets to take Dream home, do aftercare and keep him safe. Sam hates how much he wants that too, despite the fact that according to his own weird moral code he shouldn't.)

And as much as this is most definitely causing more issues, it does leave Dream actually feeling more in control of his situation.

He gets so much praise now! This is basically therapy but better! He even gets aftercare with no torture. He's getting good dick and most of his kinks are getting hit, truly luxurious for a cDream. He's a lot more confident and content, and he isn't constantly on the defensive, because if Punz says he didn't deserve what happened to him, even if its just a single person, Dream doesn't have to fight to prove that he's a person deserving of basic human decency.

But the Most Important Thing That Makes All This Take The Turn It Does: At first, Sam thinks that the proper solution to all of this is to get Dream all to himself again in his prison where he belongs and not fixing his behavior any more than what he needs specifically to get there.

However, during an very short period of time where Sam is able to be with Dream without Punz there to scrutinize, Sam attempts to do stuff like how he used to before Punz, to prove he doesn't need him, that they don't need him.

But now he knows, he knows that Dream isn't actually into a lot of the things he was trying, or at the very least he likes other things more. He had it proved to him, and he's aware that things can be a lot better. Dream's clearly nervous, anxious, and not super into this, and Sam can tell, and now all he can see are all those little signs that he's fucking up, and it's getting into his head.

In the end, he can't even get himself to go through with it, because now it feels wrong and he can't ignore that. He makes an excuse, and he's frustrated and aggressive, but he doesn't try this again without Punz there.

Mentally he can justify it as Punz would kill him if he did. This is just a matter of self-preservation.

But quietly his plans adjust to not just needing to get Dream under his control. He'll need to get Punz too in order for things to be perfect.

[wooahaes]

hii this is maybe a little random but i'm having a bit of a rough night and it got me wondering if you have any favorite comfort fics among the ones you have written (or read, for that matter, i'm just a sucker for your writing)

hi anon im really sorry this is late and i hope your night got a little bit better :( but i'll still throw some recs out!!

very very long, but [under the sun] itself always gives me comfort? something about the world just feels very cozy and i've heard from other people they consider it a comfort fic. i don't think you Have to read the initial parts to understand the individual parts (it gives world-building + reader gets dubbed 'mouse' there as a nickname that pops up throughout individual fics), but i personally think seokmin, jun and joshua have some of the more softer parts personally? jun's does have to deal with reader getting injured, so heads up for that.

i wrote the hyung line [comforting reader when they're upset] earlier this year. its very short and sweet, but it fits what you're looking for.

most recently, i had a maknae line fic [to be together (even when it's hard)] since i was going through a bad bout of depression and wanted the comfort.

there's also a full group drabbles post of comforting them which is kinda in the same vein, but its just a lot of [holding them].

this ones admittedly not very inclusive but on the off chance its what ur dealing with, i wrote a vernon fic while i was dealing with some accidental biphobia from a friend. everythings all good now, but i needed the comfort, so i expanded on a nonranghaes drabble i wrote and made it into [of your choosing].

[taste of love] isnt explicitly a comfort fic but its very comforting imo? its longer, but its a sweet jun fic that focuses on the connection that food can bring to people <3

[to heal together] is a jeonghan fic where its kinda mutual comfort

[to weather together] is another short fic for jun that involves comfort and cuddling and him supporting reader as they cry :0

[call on me] is a dino fic where he comforts fem!reader after her family forgets about the promise they made her

[i need an angel's hand] is a more personal comfort fic where cheol comforts fem!reader while she's dealing w fears of abandonment n so forth. its personal, but its out there for anyone who relates and needs it

for nonranthaes stuff: personal but cheol being there for reader when they decide to drop out of grad school

wonwoo comforting reader who is a victim of sexual assault

joshua holding reader as they cry

married fic of reader comforting cheol over weight gain that he's a little self conscious of

personal but vernon comforting reader who has an abusive parent

vernon fic where readers happy to have a loving relationship after having shitty ones in the past

jihoon listening to reader vent and being there for them

jun comforting reader after he finds them upset

lovey dovey soonyoung being patient and kind

in the same vein as the svt maknae line fic, there's a short 3racha fic [a little less daunting] that's also comfort.

there's a poly minsung fic [reassurance] that deals with reader getting comforted while they're dealing with some stress from work that impacts them in other places in their life.

this has a fem!reader since its from my bday fics this year, but [i'm just lonely, someone reach out and hold me] is a jisung fic where reader gets comforted after other ppl forgot her bday.

i feel like i have way more comfort on nonranghaes so:

platonic chris fic where he holds reader and comforts them

platonic chris fic where reader feels like they're 'behind' on life things

short felix fic where he's ready to comfort reader

lee know comforting reader during an anxiety attack

jisung comforting reader after someone accidentally made a comment that really hurt them at a party

lee know comforting reader while they have a bad headache

unfortunately i dont really have anything for trsr/golcha or mark lee (i havent written anything else for nct yet unfortunately skdfhsf so its just. mark.)

fic recs!!! for stuff from the same author i'll @ them once and do a little ^^ to mean its from the same writer <3

@jinkoh reader drops an egg and vernon comforts them. very cute, can confirm <3

^^ ex-boyfie wonwoo helping reader who is going through panic attack bc mans would come running i just KNOW it. very soft and sweet <3

@hoshologies's woozi fic w reader dealing with mental health problems and jihoon helping/comforting them. very very tender <3

my beloved livvie @husbandhannie's jeonghan fic where reader is in a toxic work environment

my beloved savv @savventeen's cheol drabble about reader feeling safe w cheol

i truly need to read a lot more tbf but all of these come from my recs tag!! most of what i read is pure fluff imo but these are the more comforty ones <3

i hope this helps!! sorry again for getting to this late anon :( <3 my sleep schedule is thrown out of wack bc of thanksgiving unfortunately...

[azurethevampire]

I tend to find drabble prompts so much easier if I look up the lists and this was on one! With any of the Chicago shows please!

"Can you bail me out? Please?"

The reader in this is loosely based on another Chicago One OC of mine, different from the one appearing in my previous Chicago Fire fics.

Enjoy!

•-•-•-•-•

The line kept ringing. He wasn't going to pick up, was he? 

Your fingers nervously tapped against the back of the phone, your mind hyper-aware of the watchful eyes of the officer sitting next to you. You glanced up at him, biting your lip as the phone rang for the fifth time. 

The officer looked young, and he must be new in the force. Otherwise your last name alone should have told officer Morgan who you were related to. Then again, maybe it did and he just didn't care. 

Sixth…

"Tough luck, kid." Good god, could a man sound any more smug? 

The line rung a seventh time. C'mon, pick up the cursed phone! 

Officer Morgan reached a hand towards the phone already, you leaning back in your seat as much as you could. "No, wait, he'll–"

"Halstead." 

"Finally!" You exclaimed, hearing a familiar voice pick up the line at last. Unable to keep your pent up stress about the situation at bay any longer, you snapped "What the hell took you so long?!" Immediately regretting your choice of words at the look officer Morgan was giving you. He even crossed his arms over his chest. Feeling hotness creep up to your ears, you grimaced.

"Y/N? Is that you?" 

"No, it's the Sandman calling to you", you deadpanned. Grimacing again right after the words left you. "Sorry!" You quickly said more to officer Morgan's (who looked this close to ripping the phone away from you) benefit than your brother's. 

"Yes, it's me, Will." 

"What's up, Bean? I'm kind of in a hurry right now." 

Unbeknownst to Will, hearing your childhood nickname made you feel even worse for what you were about to ask. 

"Uh, okay, I get it, you're busy doctoring or whatever, but I'm… well, I'm here and I found myself in a bit of a - uh, situation?" 

"Here where?" Will asked. "Are you hurt?" Ah, always the doctor, wasn't he? 

"Um… Chicago police station?" 

"... What did you do?" You could practically hear him pinch his nose from his end of the line, probably wondering what trouble you had gotten yourself into and why was it always him you called when you needed help. 

There was a simple answer to that. Jay was a cop. Besides Will was the oldest, so by your reasoning, it was him first you went to with pretty much everything and Jay second.

"Nothing!" Your voice raised an octave. "It's a misunderstanding, I promise! Look, just… Can you bail me out? Please." You added in your best innocent voice. 

There was sigh on the other end of the line. Then muffled exchange of words with someone as Will most likely covered the microphone with his hand. 

"Alright." He eventually returned. "Which precinct station are you?" He paused just enough time for you to supply the information. 

"And Y/N?" 

"Yeah?"

"Jay's coming too." 

With that Will hung up, leaving you to process his words. The world just wasn't fair to you today; instead of one brother you had to face two. You really had hoped that by contacting Will there could have been a chance Jay had never found out about this stupid mistake of a mess you found yourself in. 

[deepeststarfishsong]

My Gallavich Intro

Thanks for putting this together, @callivich!

Name: Samsa or Sam

Age: 32

What made you fall in love with Gallavich? I'm a sucker for a slightly toxic, codependent enemies-to-lovers gay romance. I didn't stand a chance. I love that no matter how insanely shitty the world gets, they show up for each other as best they can. They made an effort to work through so much for one another.

How long have you been a fan? I initially tried watching Shameless in 2016 but never got into it. I'm a social worker for a living and it stressed me out too much, felt like work-sometimes I'd realize I was writing case evals on the Gallagher family in my head. This year I finally got sucked in and there was no getting out.

Favourite Gallavich moment/scene? When Mickey trails Ian and Ned North to happy hour at the Fountain. All that aloof, untouchable, heartless pretense is gone-its so out of his norm, he has no excuse. He shows his whole hand in the most Mickey way possible and Ian sees it for what it is.

Favourite Shalmeless character apart from Ian and Mickey? Probably Lip. He's intermittently a self centered tool, but I appreciate who he is for Ian.

Do you write or draw or make edits? I write! I do ficlets and drabbles here on Tumblr and longer one-shots over on AO3 under the same name.

Favourite type of Gallavich fics?

-Canon compliant or slight canon divergent. I wish I was into AU, there's some great AU writing out there it just isn't my jam.

-Fluff and angst, hurt and comfort, getting together

Favourite Gallavich quote? “Ian, what you and I have makes me free." The fact that he'd grown enough to know he'd felt trapped and to have realized so much about himself in the process.

Anything else you’d like to share about yourself? I'm loving the @galladrabbles community. I felt included right away and it's been cool to write on badass prompts and read such good work every Monday.