#i swear to god. & the way new age bullshit is like just spreading like a disease amongst the vulnerable & needy so easily

[algolstare]

head in hands!!!!

[thatiranianphantom]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Thank you so much, Winter, this is so kind 💜

I am, sadly, my own worst critic, so it's hard to pick and yet I have surpassed the limit of 5 with some I actually like!

Hold Me Till It Sleeps (Hamilton, Alexander Hamilton/Eliza Hamilton)

It starts with a bottle of cough syrup, and the flatline of a heart monitor

(angsty hamilton fic, but I recently reread it and it kinda holds up!)

when the earth met the sky (the 100, clarke/lexa)

She closes her eyes.

Lexa would have wanted that dignity.

She closes her eyes and then she leaves.

Post Thirteen, Clarke burns with hate and remembers Lexa.

(I don't think I'll ever do better than this one. It is by far the darkest thing I've ever written, and honestly still my fave, even after I moved on from the Clexa fandom)

regret takes hold (we grow old) (Riverdale, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones)

It's been seven years, and they're as good as strangers. But when family calls, Betty, Jughead, Archie and Veronica answer. As they come back to Riverdale, they find themselves tied up in a new mystery, much more personal than it seems. The investigation will take all four of them on a journey, and old feelings rise to the surface.

Could they even find their way back into each other's arms, or is it too late?

(A monumentous achievement: I finished a multichapter plot fic!)

until then (listen for her song) (Riverdale, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones)

His breath comes in fast pants that have nothing to do with the chill in the air. He doesn’t understand it, but he does not allow himself to think of anything but when he will see her next.

Soon. Soon, he’ll hear her laugh. God, he loves her laugh.

After an accident, Jughead learns to survive.

(again, the darkest things I write are my faves. This one I loved, and I still love)

i'm right up the road (i'll share your load)

Betty and Veronica meet when they are fifteen and have kissed within three days of meeting.

It’s such a radical departure from the pastel monotony of Betty’s days that she begins to mark her life into pre and post-Veronica.

(This was one of my non-romantic faves. It's a friendship love story, and I highly prefer it to the bullshit that is currently Beronica on screen.)

she is gone (but she used to be mine) (Wynonna Earp, Wynonna Earp/Doc Holliday)

Alice Michelle Earp is born on August 25th, 2017.

Her daughter is born in August, delivered by her sister, on a pool table at Shorty’s.

(You will notice a theme that Mom!Wynonna is my weakness and I needed this.)

life after life, age after age (forever) (The 100, Elyza Lex/Alysha Clark)

It would figure.

You think you should have expected it.

Not only was she right about reincarnation, you just happen to be reincarnated into another fucking apocalypse.

(I barely remember writing this one, but it apparently did very well? I think it's still one of my top ones for kudos and bookmarks)

a soft epilogue (Riverdale, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones)

This is how the story goes.

Don’t pretend you didn’t know it was a story. It’s been a story since the beginning. Since their town, once wholesome and pure, woke up to the murder of Jason Blossom. Before then, even. It was a story, and this is the boy and the girl’s story. Betty and Jughead.

Two people. Children, teens, adults, against the world. They’re strangers, once. Then he breathes an “also,” and she weaves her fingers into his and their lives are never the same.

(This was a different style of writing, kind of an omniscient narrator, but I really liked it. We all needed some fluff.)

no one else is singing my song (Riverdale, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones)

Betty loves Jughead. Betty hurt Jughead. But Betty swears she won't drag him down with this. He's going to do great things, and if she has to sit in the back of the metaphorical theatre to watch, and hold her tongue, she will.

(Multichapter but with less plot. First appearance of Georgina. The real Georgina, btw, is now 14. She is sweet, kind and smart. She is my desktop background and I miss her every day.)

the lion and the unicorn (NCIS:LA, Kensi Blye/Marty Deeks)

The lion beat the unicorn all around town...

(If you write what is essentially the same story for multiple fandoms, it's still not plaigarism, right?)

[thatsassyhufflepuff]

Draco and y/n just recently went from enemies to friends and they have their first kiss mid argument and finally confess

You Don't Understand

Summary: Draco and Y/N's friendship hangs in the balance as the two engage in a heated argument. What do the sparks that fly mean? Is it hate or something more?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem Reader (again you’re more than welcome to specify gender neutral!)

Year: 6th

Y/H/H: Your Hogwarts House

House: Any

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: so much fluff omg

A/N: Thank you for your request, my lovely anon! Hope you like this! <3 it is nearly 2 A.M. holy moly

“Draco,” Y/N tugged on Draco’s sleeve as he exited the Potions classroom. He’d been avoiding her all day and she was tired of it. “What’s going on?”

The Slytherin yanked his arm out of the Y/H/H’s grasp, pinning her with a glare. “For the last time, Y/N, nothing is going on!” He moved to walk away, but Y/N held on to his sleeve tightly, ignoring the curious glances students gave the pair as they passed.

“I’m not an idiot, Draco.” Y/N hissed. “I know something’s wrong. Why can’t you tell me what it is?”

Draco growled. “Let. Go.”

She gritted her teeth. “Fine. But we will discuss this. Name a time and place and I’ll be there.”

“Fine.” He sniffed.

“Fine.”

They glowered at each other for a few heartbeats before going their separate ways.

***

Much to Y/N's chagrin, Draco didn't send her an owl until a few days after their initial encounter.

Astronomy Tower. 7 P.M.

Y/N pursed her lips. She thought about not showing up at all. Why did he make her wait so bloody long? Sure, their friendship was new and somewhat tentative, as they'd gone from enemies to friends, but didn't she have a right to know what was going on in his life?

Her curiosity won out, however, and she sighed as she trudged up the winding staircase that led to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Y/N wasn't surprised to find Draco already standing there, his back to her as he looked over the expanse of the grounds. Y/N cleared her throat; Draco turned immediately.

"You're late," he sniffed. Y/N snorted.

"So was your bloody owl. It's been three days."

"Oh? I didn't realize our conversation was assigned a due date."

The girl clenched her fists at her sides, taking a calming breath as she joined Draco at the railing. "Punctuality would've been nice."

Draco didn't answer her. Instead, he sighed, the Malfoy family ring clinking against the cold iron as he ran a hand along the railings. "This isn't working," he said suddenly. Y/N blinked.

"What isn't working?"

"This." He gestured between them. "Our friendship. We can't be friends anymore."

Y/N folded her arms, taking a step back as she turned to face the blonde Slytherin, her Y/E/C eyes icy. "Why the hell not?"

"There are things going on that you don't understand," Draco started, but Y/N interrupted him.

"I'm an intelligent witch, Draco. I'm sure I can keep up."

"You couldn't possibly." Draco snorted, making Y/N tense, her eyes narrowing.

"Did you just call me dumb?"

"Not in so many words," he shrugged, raking his left hand through his hair. And what a bloody mistake that was, because then she saw it.

"Draco," she reached for his arm. "What is that on your arm?"

"Nothing." He smacked her hand away. Y/N drew her wand, pointing it at his chest.

"Don't you dare hit me," she dug her wand into his chest, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Now tell me what you've done or I swear I'll-"

"You'll what?" Draco sneered. "Go to Dumbledore?"

Y/N shrugged, lifting her chin defiantly. "If I must. Now show me your bloody arm."

If looks could kill, Y/N Y/L/N would be dead from the glare Draco gave her, but he rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark that had been burned into his skin. Y/N stumbled back, lowering her wand.

"Draco," she breathed. "What on Earth have you done?"

His gray eyes were bitter. "What I had to do. I didn't have a choice."

Y/N let out a scoffing laugh. "Everyone has a choice, Draco." Her voice began to shake. "But how...how could you go through with it? He's a murderer, Draco! The things he's done--"

"I know what he's done!" Draco cried. "God, do I know what he's done! I've been there for so much of it that I'm afraid the nightmares will never stop, Y/N!" Tears glittered in his gray eyes. "Don't you see? That's why this has to stop. He'll kill you, Y/N, he'd ruin everything!"

"No!" Y/N pocketed her wand, storming up to him, a fire raging in her eyes. "I refuse to believe that! Let me help you, Draco. Please."

"There is no helping me, Y/N." Draco snarled as he looked down at her; he could feel the warmth of her breath on his chin with each word she spoke. When had they gotten so close?

"Bullshit," she snapped. "I can and I will help you, Draco!"

He let out a cry of frustration. "Oh, for Salazar's sake, witch! Are you so keen on getting yourself killed?"

"I just want to help!"

"Why in God's name won't you get it through your thick skull?" Draco stepped forward, towering over her intentionally, an intimidation tactic. "That I don't bloody need your help?"

For a moment, Draco thought he saw Y/N's gaze flicker towards his lips, but the moment was gone before he could be certain. Desire shot through him at the thought, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"I just want you to be safe, Draco." Y/N whispered, the sweet smell of her breath assaulting his nostrils as she exhaled.

Draco took a shaky breath. "Why?" he whispered.

"You're my friend--"

"Like Hell I am," His self-control snapped as he crushed his mouth to hers.

For a long, horrible moment she was frozen in his arms, but then she dangled her arms around his neck, her chest flush with his as she responded to the kiss. Draco's arms snaked around her waist as the kissed turned slow and soft. When they needed air, he broke away from her lips and trailed kisses along the shell of her ear, pressing feather-light kisses against her neck before lifting his head.

Her lips were just as kiss-swollen as he was sure his were, and he groaned as she leaned in to peck him on the lips again.

"That's why this won't work. I can't stand being your friend when I'm so bloody in love with you that I can't breathe." Draco said breathlessly as their lips parted once more. Y/N's cheeks flushed pink, and she gave him a dazzling smile.

"I've wanted to kiss you for ages now, Draco Malfoy." She murmured, running her fingers through his platinum blonde hair. "Because I love you, too."

Warmth spread across Draco's entire being at her words, and for the first time since he was a little boy, a feeling of bliss, a feeling of safety, wrapped around him like a warm blanket. The Dark Lord's task, as insurmountable as it seemed, would be bearable with the witch he loved by his side.

He would be all right. He was sure of it.

~~~

I know @rosiehufflepuff for sure wanted to be tagged but if you want to be added to my Draco taglist let me know! ❤️

[wh6res]

taeil — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. soulmates are connected by a red string.

synopsis. taeil thinks the whole system is bullshit. he needs to take matters into his own hands.

warnings. tread cautiously. swearing, mentions of death, blood, mentions of kidnapping, violence, turning a 'lil dubcon near the end, severe stockholm syndrome, manipulation 

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life. 

thank you to. sexeh sam @yukwonghei, cutie charlie @dundun-baby, and baby rina @greenish-taro for beta-reading!

since he was a kid, he’s fantasized about meeting his soulmate. creating scenario after scenario of how he’d meet ‘the one’ as he had cheesily addressed and had absolutely freaked when he finally saw the red string tied around his right wrist on his 20th birthday—courtesy of the soulmate rules of the universe, where one will finally be able to see the string tied around their body once they’ve come of age. 

for years before he met that other soul who’s destined to be with him, taeil would stare at the red thread lying across the floor, disappearing under the gap of his door and out to the world unknown. he’d be so distracted, so aloof and in his own world as he anticipates the long-awaited day until his professor calls him out—“moon! do yourself a favor and stop daydreaming!”

until his friends snap him out of it—“thinking of them again? really?”

until his parents shake him out of his thoughts—“don’t worry, i bet they’ll love you!”

sometimes he just loved staring at the string, it was something so measly as a bunch of threads intricately woven together yet it held such a symbol in today’s world. call him lovesick or stupid but was it really wrong to feel excited? taeil’s even betting the person on the other side of this string is just as excited as he was, if not more. 

in the man’s eyes, the strings are a symbol of something more than love—it symbolized the person the universe has created especially for him and no one else. 

taeil can’t even imagine a world without these strings. how difficult it would be, to love and invest in someone who will only end up breaking your heart? no, the strings also meant reassurance. 

assurance that he won’t get hurt. 

an assurance of faithfulness. 

he had only been a wide-eyed fresh grad looking for some place to intern when it happened. like a scene right out of a cheesy romance movie—he felt the persistent tugs of the string before finally meeting his soulmate. well, using the word meet to describe the whole ordeal is a huge stretch because it was more of a holy shit, is that my soulmate? rather than a hi, i'm your soulmate, taeil!

he merely saw the back of her poised figure but taeil’s heart felt like it wanted to explode, his emotions a mess and feeling everything to the extremes. nervous. scared. anxiety. happiness. excitement—it was all coming at him like bullets. 

as taeil stared at her back, walking away, johnny kept shoving him forward, encouraging him to finally approach the person he’s been waiting for ever since that soulmate string appeared around his pinky. 

but he couldn’t—not because he was so anxious he’d accidentally vomit the 4-cheese whopper he had for lunch but due to the line of people trailing behind his soulmate like a bunch of baby ducks to their mom. the thought of coming up to his soulmate and introducing himself in front of all those people?

romantic, maybe, but taeil doesn’t have the stomach to do that. 

he remembers how much johnny had wolf whistled, unbelieving of the fact his friend managed to snag the possible heir to the company they’re attending an interview in as his soulmate. 

“lucky little asshole,” johnny muttered. 

taeil had been experiencing the post-effects of seeing his soulmate that he just weakly punched johnny’s arm for the heck of it. he probably didn’t even hear the name his younger friend had called him. taeil’s mind is clouding over, no thoughts in his head but the white polo shirt she wore, sleeves neatly rolled up, and the black pencil skirt hugging her legs and making her ass look so plump. 

focus. he needs to focus on the interview right now or else he won’t even have the chance to work here and officially meet her. everything the interviewer asked passed through his head like paper planes in a classroom, shamelessly asking the woman sitting before him to repeat the question, too busy reveling about how their soulmate story would be the cliché office-love. not that taeil minds, he’d love going to work together—

two weeks later, johnny receives an email of acceptance. taeil doesn’t.

the man nearly threw his laptop away out of sheer disbelief and anger. okay, sure, maybe he could’ve done better in the interview but he graduated with latin honors in college! and from a prestigious college at that. he shouldn’t even be applying as a mere intern with the skill set he had yet he went with it because he’d always dreamed of working there. 

and now knowing his soulmate is possibly someone who holds a high position in the company? everything just kept getting better and better for moon taeil. 

except for that fucking email—pft, or lack thereof. how can they not accept him when he’s more capable than johnny, anyway? for fuck’s sake! taeil doesn’t even ask that guy for rent and he’s so thick-skinned that he stayed up to this day and freeloaded off taeil’s food and shelter. 

the absolute unfairness of the situation makes taeil’s blood reach a fever point. he’s completely lossed it, leading him to spit “get the fuck out!” to the other male occupant in the apartment with eyes glaring and lips pulled into a nasty sneer. 

johnny’s never seen taeil this upset before and decided that he’d be better off abiding by the older man’s wishes instead of contradicting it. 

no. no. no. this can’t be happening. if taeil doesn’t work there, with her, all his sweet fantasies won’t come true and god forbid she ends up falling for another person in the company. 

anyone would be naturally drawn to taeil’s soulmate. in his eyes, she’s a goddess in the flesh. taeil doesn’t even need to see her face, from the few seconds he saw a glimpse of her, her presence and allure in itself is already eye-catching. the way her low ponytail swished from side to side as she walked, her back straight and head held high. 

taeil needs to see her again. maybe if she finds out he’s her soulmate she’ll put a good word in and he’ll get hired. 

yeah. yeah, that’s a good plan. 

“please get out of my office or i’ll call security.”

or not.

“no, wait. but i just said i’m your soulmate!” to further prove his point, he even raises up his pinky and sure enough the other end of the string is tied around hers. the incessant pull is there and if not for her sharp cold eyes anchoring him to the ground, taeil would’ve long been soaring high in cloud nine. 

“and i said i don’t care,” she snaps just as her fingers sneakily pressed a button in her phone. “i have a fiancé. the whole soulmate bullshit doesn’t apply to rich people. so for the fucking last time, get out of my office.”

“but—”

the double doors of the vice president’s office bounces off the walls when two burly guards barge in. dressed in a white long sleeves and those heavy tinted shades of glasses that taeil hates. the two men waste no time in hooking their arms underneath the smaller, frail man as he thrashes against their arms. 

“how can you not care about your soulmate?!” taeil can feel the beginning licks of the flames eating up his whole world as everything comes crashing down before his very eyes. “i’ve been—i’ve been waiting my whole life for you and this is how you treat me?!” 

he doesn’t know what hurts more, the scratch in his throat as he screamed with all his might or the stoic look written on her face as the guards haul him away. 

when johnny heard the news he’d never felt so sorry for his friend. rumors that initially circulated only between the executive board members had spread and trickled down to the common folk on the lower levels. johnny making it a mission to find out, had extracted himself from his usual cheery and extroverted self to blend in with the background. taeil has yet to talk to him after he got kicked out, so asking his friend—or ex-friend?—about what happened is out of the question. 

but like any other breed of rumor, the tale of their vice president’s soulmate barging in her office is ever changing through each mouth that tells the story. johnny doesn't know what to believe in. he’s been trying to put off a meeting with the older man ever since he started crashing in taeyong’s apartment instead. not that taeil himself even tried reaching out to johnny, anyway. 

so why should he, when he doesn’t even know what he did wrong?

but there’s a nagging voice at the back of johnny’s head. his conscience isn’t too loud but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there and it doesn’t need excessive volumes to be heard. all it takes is a second of distraction from the paperwork he does, attention straying from the task at hand, and his body will automatically be wracked with guilt. 

knowing how much taeil had waited for his soulmate to come to his life, knowing how taeil can readily give everything up for his soulmate without even meeting them yet… and now knowing taeil just got the worst ever rejection in his entire life?

johnny can’t possibly imagine the pain he’s going through. is he really going to choose now out of all times to be petty because taeil kicked him out when he didn’t even bother asking johnny for anything in return during his stay in the apartment?

so when taeil finally contacted him, the sketchyness of what he had asked for flew right over johnny’s head. rational thoughts flying out the window because taeil needs him, he should his friend after everything taeil did for him—

“hey, uhm… i need insider’s information, can you do that for me?”

you shook your head at the long story johnny told you. tuffs of your hair have escaped the intricate pigtails taeil has put your hair up in earlier before he left for work. he’s always hated having your hair messy, but at the moment you couldn’t find yourself to care. 

“i wouldn’t put it past taeil’s original soulmate…” you think aloud, mouth speaking before you can stop yourself as you stare disdainfully at the dulled string wrapped around your pinky—it lost its divine red glow after your captor had cut it off on the same day he whisked you away.

ironic, how easy it was to destroy something so important.

you backtracked, realizing the gravity of what you said before looking up at your captor’s friend. johnny doesn’t look all too impressed and he sighs at the pleading look in your eyes. please, don’t tell him.

“i guess you’re somewhat right…” he gives in, coursing his fingers through his hair. “taeil had been… very passionate on finding his soulmate. but i mean, come on, why’d you even marry someone who isn’t your soulmate? i don’t blame taeil for doing what he did to them.”

johnny ignores the way your breath hitches and your body halts all movement. “what—what did he do?”

“paid them a ‘lil visit after gathering enough resources from someone on the inside,” his face stoic, voice monotone. johnny doesn’t like talking about this one. “he studied their schedules, where they live, where they work, how they get to work, what time they sleep, what time they wake. then just one day…” 

he drags a finger across his neck.

“oh.” 

pathetically, it was all you can say. why did you even bother to ask, anyway? if taeil had been willing to exert force just to keep you in line, then he has the stomach for whatever gruesome deaths he subjected his soulmate and her fiancé to.

you nibble on your lip as you stare at the knot of thread lying on the floor. you don’t see the need to wear the collar wrapped around your neck when that knot is good enough a reminder that you’re now bound to taeil. that he’s fucked around with your destiny and decided he’ll have you out of all people. 

its hard to believe taeil once almost worshipped the soulmate bonds, not when all he’s ever done is look at it like it's the bane of his existence and calling it a curse to humanity.

“do you know that you’re—”

“that i’m the 5th? yeah, i know. i saw all the knots on his string.” you defeatedly say, a vivid image of the knots spaced across his string like tophies. “taeil doesn’t like me staring at them, though.”

and you yourself didn’t like staring at them. you never thought something so small and insignificant can mean something so sinister. the knots on his string acting like a body counter. will he get sick of you one day and you’ll just be another knot on his string?

“you’re nothing like his soulmate—i’m not insulting you or anything, i’m just saying the truth. the past girls all had at least something in common with her but you… nothing. not even your hair shines like hers, and that’s even after taeil has taken good care of you.”

this doesn’t soothe you in any sense and before you can open your mouth to retort, the familiar beeping of the code getting punched into the keypad cuts you off. 

taeil stood in the entrance as he shrugged off his coat, his polo crinkled at some areas and pieces of his hair had escaped that slicked back hairstyle. 

“you’re home early…”

your blood runs cold when he doesn’t even offer you a glance, skipping you out and immediately addressing johnny. “i thought i told you to go home already after delivering the food.”

you admire the way johnny’s eyes roll. must be nice not to be so fucking terrified of the man. “yeah, but your current sweetheart here was lonely and practically begged me to stay.”

the sting of betrayal never grows familiar. 

“i never said anything—”

“you did, have you forgotten already?” you hate the show of lust clouding in johnny’s eyes as he stares you down. this can’t be happening right now. “have you forgotten how you even came unto me? whined like a bitch about how taeil doesn’t even fuck you hard enough and you had to fake orgasms all the time?”

“that’s not true!” your frustration manifests as tears. they sting your eyes as you look at taeil. “i never said anything—”

but you pale when you realize they’re not even listening to you, the two guys fist bumping in the foyer and exchanging a few words like “thanks for telling me,” and “no problem, bro,” were heard before taeil is heatedly storming up to you. 

you feel numb as you look over taeil’s shoulder at the little smirk johnny shoots at you. have fun, he mouths mockingly and then he’s out the door, extracting himself from the mess he created. 

when taeil wordlessly drags you across the hallway, you thought he’ll make a right turn and into the bedroom but imagine your surprise when he pulls you instead towards the bathroom. he wastes no time throwing you against the cold hard tiles as he tells you only one thing. 

“strip.”

“taeil…”

“you don’t want to be replaced.” it doesn’t take a genius to know taeil had hit the nail on the head. all your movements come to a halt, looking up at him with an unreadable look in your face. “that’s your fear, isn’t it? that if you die, if i kill you, i can just look for another girl and you’d be forgotten at the snap of a finger. i’m right, aren’t i?”

you gulp, his words stinging even if he didn’t mean for it to sting. or maybe he did. taeil takes a step closer to you, studying your appearance as he brings a hand up to caress your tear-stained face. 

spots in your clothes are wet due to the splashes of water on the tiles, and the clips in your hair that once looked neat and perfect are now hanging in disarray, falling off in some places. 

“i’m sorry,” you sob. “i’m sorry, john—johnny’s lying. you—you have to—to believe me. please don’t replace me… i’ll be good, i promise…”

truly, there’s no better motivator than fear. and there’s no better way to mess with someone’s head than using their weakness against them. 

“you say you’ll be good but i tell you to strip and you couldn’t even do that?” 

taeil could never imagine replacing you. he finds it stupid, whatever that brought in this fear of yours, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be extracting every little bit he can get out of this.

he can only stare in awe when you start wiggling your way out of your pretty pink clothes, eyes drinking every bit of your skin slowly being exposed to him as he reaches behind you to open the running water, slowly filling the bathtub.

“get in,” he instructs and you waste no time. 

as he sheds his own clothes, he can practically feel the want radiating off you. he knew johnny’s lying, but he humored his friend still. there’s no way you can fake the noises you always make. plus, taeil has seen one too many times the cum dribbling out of your cunt after he’s fucked you into oblivion. he scoffs. harder? then he’ll be breaking you in half already. 

taeil swats your hand away as it reaches for his cock and he hopes you don’t notice it twitching before you when you let out a cute whine. 

“you want it?”

you nod urgently, salavitating at the thought. taeil was more of a giver to his partners, it’s rare for him to take his pleasure first but you’re far from complaining. 

“oh, i don’t know…” he pouts, fisting himself in front of you before giving it a few testing pumps. he swallows the hiss threatening to spill from his lips, chuckling instead at the intense look in your eyes as it follows his hand movements. 

you were by far the most compliant girl he’s ever had, someone who’d rather stay than escape. his methods of forcing someone into submission worked extremely well with you. so really, how can he let go of his glorified little pet?

“you’re not lying to me, aren’t you? i got hurt, you know, with what johnny said… i guess i was doing something wrong.”

“no!” your reply is immediate. “no, that’s not true—”

hands wrap around your throat like a vice. “how about you prove it to me, love? tell me everything i want to hear.”

now, this is easy. you’ve practically memorized everything you need to tell him to boost his ego. it doesn’t even take much of an effort. 

“i love your cock so much that my body hurts. it hits all the right places inside of me and i will never even dream of wanting another man because they won’t be able to fuck me like you do.”

you feel giddy when he smiles that satisfied smile, your toes curling in anticipation as he leans in to give his obedient darling a kiss—

until he shoves your face down the water. 

it doesn’t take much effort to wrestle your limbs down and insert himself into you, groaning at the feeling of your lush and moist walls sucking him in. you’re always so damn wet when he fucks you, oh how much he loves it. loves how tighter your cunt wraps around him as you squirm and fight him to get to the surface of the half-filled tub.

it was only after a few deep thrusts did he relent and pull you up, the few hair clips in your hair floating in the water around as you gasp greedy amounts of air. one look at taeil’s face pulled in ecstasy is enough for you to know it was well worth it.

maybe being rejected by his soulmate was a blessing in disguise. maybe the disobedience of every girl he took before you had been deliberately well-planned. or else he’d never would’ve met you. 

taeil was right. all the soulmate and soulmark shit is utterly useless and stupid. because you are by no means his soulmate, but fuck he’ll never let you go.

not when your destiny is to lay there underneath him, taking whatever it is that he gave you like a good little whore. 

[elliewritessometimes]

hello! me n @mattieswheelers wrote another fic!! tiff is the most incredible writing partner and i- i just love them???? thanky so much for writing with me you are a stunning writer aaaa (y'all there will be a second chapter stay tuned fdhhddh aLSO we are posting this on ao3 it will be there at some point)

in other news: this was originally a request!! @notsomightymightytiger it may have taken me uh- a good couple of months but here is your fic!!!

for reference, these numbers apply to these tropes: first kiss/flowers of romance/blind date

LOVE YOU KIERA AND TIFF AAAAA HOPE YOU LIKE

tw: swearing, alcohol and drunkenness but not in an angsty farrah way just in a silly oops first date way, as per usual if there's anything at all you want me to tag let me know :D

---

Eva thought she was doing perfectly fine without a romantic partner. Her life was normal, one filled with work and friends and scrolling through Pinterest.

Apparently, in the eyes of her best friend, this was not a normal life. Farrah had always been a bit extra, that one kid in highschool who always seemed to know where the best parties were, or who was known by name to the baristas at the local Starbucks, and by the ripe old age of 22, she believed that a romantic partner was crucial to living a fulfilling life.

Or, at least, that you should at least try romance once before becoming a hermit in the woods, especially if your name was Eva Sanchez.

(“Look, normally I wouldn’t be like this,” Farrah drawled, leaning against a counter, “But deep inside  you are nothing but a useless gay at heart-”

Her phone buzzed.

“-and you haven’t dated anyone, like, ever, and if I have to be the only one constantly dragging you out to social gatherings, I’m going to die early. So do me a solid, will you?”

“Hey-!”)

Eva did not agree.

But, she was a loyal friend, and that was how she found herself sitting in an overly posh restaurant on some random blind date with some random person that she’d never even seen before. It would be an understatement to say she was a little bit nervous, but then again, whenever Farrah was involved, that was normal.

***********: hi sorry i got your number from the blind date place thing but uh are you the person at the table in the corner

***********: ???denim jacket ?? pride pin??

Eva smiled, glancing up at the door. There was another person looking a little lost in the entrance, very obviously trying not to draw attention to themselves, their phone held close to their face as they squinted around at the restaurant. They were pretty, dark hair pulled up into a loose ponytail, obviously not dressed for a restaurant as upper class as this one. Eva liked them immediately. Raising a hand, she waved in their direction, laughing as her date gasped dramatically, hurrying over and nearly overturning a tray of drinks on their way.

“Hello.”

“Look-” Eva’s date slumped in the seat opposite, one hand awkwardly held behind their back. “I dunno about you, but I certainly did not willingly sign up for this. You see, my friend wanted me to apparently live a more interesting life and stop relying on Tumblr as my only source of interaction with anyone, and my friend is very persuasive, so here I am.”

Eva raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so I wanted to get that out of the way before we even introduce ourselves. I am here out of spite only, so, uh, I hope you’re not too desperate.” They paused, finally taking a breath. “Right. The more I think about this, the more embarrassed I get.”

“It’s okay.” Eva gave a noise which sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Let’s not think about it then. I’m Eva. She/her. It’s nice to meet you, unwilling datemate.”

They grinned. “Kate. She/they.” She gasped a little like she’d forgotten something. “Oh! I brought flowers. Chess said it would be romantic.”

Eva accepted the offered flowers with a blush. This date was going better than expected. Farrah was going to lose her shit when she heard about it. “Wait- You have a friend called Chess?? Like, the game???”

Kate rolled their eyes, casually snatching a bright pink cocktail off a passing waiter’s tray. “Duh. You didn’t really see me walk in this fucking posh ass restaurant in my flannel and converse and think I’d be normal, right?”

Eva laughed then, properly. It had only been a few short, chaotic minutes, but she was already warming to this mystery person and, God, they had good taste in flowers. Even if Eva’s nerd hermit brain did helpfully choose that moment to remind her that this particular bunch of flowers presented a meaning that translated almost exactly to ‘fuck you’. She wondered if Kate was aware of that. However, perhaps that was a fun fact for the second date.

-

“Hey, Eva?” Kate was slightly tipsy. Only a little bit! Really not that bad. Not at all. Definitely not too drunk for a first date. Shut up. “Hey! You’re- so cool.”

Eva giggled - she was equally as drunk, but not quite so intoxicated as to stop wondering why the restaurant hadn’t thrown them out yet. “Noooooo. ‘m a nerd.”

“Yeah, but a cool nerd.” Kate twirled the decorative candle between her fingers, drawing stares from disapproving patrons. The flame reflected in Eva’s glasses, making her just a little bit more smitten by the second. They enclosed their hand around the candle holder as best they could, standing up just a little shakily. “Eva-” It was like they got a rush from just saying her name. Eva thought it was endearing. “Hey- we- we should go…”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes, also standing up, her long-discarded denim jacket slung over one arm, the other naturally slipping to link arms with Kate.

“....Arson.” Kate sounded entirely serious, still twizzling the candle in one hand. Eva blinked dumbly at her, mouth slightly open. They pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Eva’s mouth, giggling uncharacteristically at the motion. “I’m jokingggg! Don’t look so shook, my dude.”

Eva stuttered a little, letting Kate pull her finally out of the restaurant, marvelling at the fact she’d only known this incredible, crazy person for a matter of hours. Who knew where tonight would take them?

-

They found themselves in a park, gazing up at the stars, now dim in the reflections of the city lights. Kate’s phone flashed 11:46 in the dark, the lock screen filled with notifications from a contact who’s name consisted only of a chess piece.

Eva lay down on the grass, spreading her arms out towards the stars. “Do you ever think about life?”

“Sure. All the time. I’m alive, and so are you, and I think you’re really pretty. Does that count?” Kate flopped down beside her.

“I- I mean, yeah- um,” Eva tried not to sound flustered, thankful for the darkness that hid the color rising in her cheeks. “But like, life. Scientifically. Relatively.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, I totally do. Um. Do I?”

Eva laughed, turning her head slightly to gaze at Kate. Under the light of the stars, they looked… ethereal. And really, really, really beautiful. And-

Eva coughed slightly, turning back towards the night sky. “Just… think about it. I’m lying here beside you, on a giant marble that hurtles through space. Relatively speaking, our orbit and path are unique, and all around us, the other planets are… swirling in harmony, and we’re just. We’re just here to see it.”

Kate hummed. “You sound like those philosophical people, all ‘if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, did it really fall?’ and ‘relatively speaking I am relatively here, and I’m relatively certain… blah blah blah.’”

“Huh. Do I?” Eva shrugged, putting her hands behind her head. “I dunno. I’m drunk. I think. Oh, no, I’m relatively drunk, ha ha- okay no, I’m just drunk.”

“You are,” Kate nodded wisely. “We both are.”

“Do you know what Albert Einstein said once?” Eva asked abruptly, closing her eyes. “He said, ‘When you’re courting a nice girl, an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder, a second seems like an hour. That's relativity.’ And if that isn’t the most relatable thing he’s ever said, then, well- okay yeah I’ve lost my train of thought.”

“Wow,” said Kate. “Did Albert Einstein court lots of nice girls?”

“Pfft.” Eva rolled onto her side, laughing openly in Kate’s face. “Sure. Why not.”

They rolled to face Eva, curling up into a ball, softer than the 22-year-old had seen her all evening. “Not as nice as the one I’m courting right now.”

“Even though neither of us really wanted to be here earlier?”

“Yeah. Y’know, I’m fucking glad our best friends basically set us up. It’s very pog of them.”

“You did not just say ‘pog’. You did not.” Eva groaned into the slightly damp, slightly disgusting grass, listening to Kate cackle next to her.

“Shit, dude, my secret’s out. I’m just as much of a nerd as you.” She leant their head on Eva’s outstretched arm, burrowing into her side.

Eva paused then, draping her other arm around Kate, thinking quietly. It was stupid, really, that they were cuddling in the openness of a park at almost midnight. Dangerous, definitely, especially when you took in the candle still flickering far too close to Kate’s now loose hair. Some more sensible people, maybe Farrah’s sister, would say that it was stupid how close they’d grown in so few hours. But Kate and Eva weren’t sensible people, not really, and maybe this was completely normal for them. Nerds lived life differently. “We’re not like other girls… we’re nerds.”

Kate barked out a laugh again, pressing yet another small kiss to the top of Eva’s head.

Eva thought she might melt into a puddle right then and there.

God, she was so in love.

Kate looked up at the sky. “Y’know, for all your philosophical talk, you should be an inspirational speaker. Be on goddamn TedTalks or something, blow the crowd away with all that ‘the future’s in the palm of my hand!!’ bullshit.”

“Well,” Eva said, trying to sound completely sober (and failing), “I think all I could ever want is in the palm of my hand, right now.”

Kate paused for a moment, registering the fact that Eva had just cupped her hands around their face. “Wow. That was smooth.”

“Right?? I’m honestly impressed and I was the one who said it. Wait, is that hubris? Oh shoot, am I developing an ego? Or maybe I’m just drunk?” Eva’s head was seriously starting to hurt.

“You deserve an ego,” Kate nodded sagely. “You are so amazing. Seriously. You should have an ego. Dab on the haters and all that jazz, right? Right.”

Eva giggled, unable to take her eyes away from Kate’s. “What the shit?”

“Dude! Dab on the haters. ‘m fuckin’ right, and you know I am.”

“Mkay.”

“Lit.” Kate dragged her gaze from Eva’s, instead staring up at the stars. “If we weren’t drunk right now, I’d be kissing the hell out of you.”

Eva pouted. Apparently Drunk-Eva was limited to the facial expressions of a twelve year old. “Who’s to say you can’t kiss me now.”

“We’re drunk, Eva.” They waved their hands, casually flipping off the moon. “Consent.”

“If you think about drunk...ness. Drunkenness? Drunkness. Whatever.” She coughed. “If you think about it like maths, then because we’re both drunk, it cancels out, right? Like, drunk you minus drunk me equals zero drunks overall, yeah?” Pausing, she ran a hand over her face, watching Kate smirk and wriggle closer out of the corner of her eye. “What I’m saying is, yes, I give you permission to kiss me-” Kate leaned closer and Eva laid a gentle finger on their lips. “But only if I get to kiss you back.”

The two met in the middle, naturally coming together. Some might describe them as magnets, two poles attracted, unable to stay away from each other. Others might say soulmates, meant to find each other from birth. Or, just maybe, stars, gravitationally pulled together, ready to explode into another plane of existence, one so different from our reality that we can’t even begin to imagine the wonders that they’ll find.

However, this is reality, and somehow Kate and Eva are still grounded on our Earth, stars maybe, but ones made of ancient stardust no longer free to travel the universe. They found themselves pulling apart after two worlds collided, an unknown period of time passing as it happened. Eva’s fingers didn’t untangle themselves from their comfortable seat amongst Kate’s hair, the closeness making their noses brush, spouting giggles from both young adults.

“Well, that was fun.” Kate brushed hair out of Eva’s face, one arm still wrapped tight around her waist, pulling her closer as she shivered in the night air.

“Yeah?” Eva pressed her forehead to theirs. “Why don’t we try it again, huh?”

---

“I told you so,” Farrah smirked, picking at a freshly baked blueberry muffin. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Eva huffed, failing to come up with an argument.

Over by the kitchen counter, Mattie snorted. “I find it kinda funny that the single girl insists that love is the answer to anything.”

“Well- it’s not like I’ve never dated!”

“Suuuuure,” Mattie rolled her eyes, hopping off the counter and snatching a muffin. “Anyways, at least Eva has a significant other now. That’s the biggest victory, right? Other than the celebratory muffins, of course.”

Eva sighed. “Is it really that big of a deal that Farrah’s plan worked?”

“Yep!” Farrah grinned, taking a bite of muffin.

“Technically, my plan, but okay,” Mattie shrugged.

Eva almost dropped her muffin. “What.”

Mattie grinned, a devilish glint appearing in her eye. “Believe it or not, I am also friends with none other than the amazing Chess, and since her friend Kate- who is also my friend, by the way- was being a mopey mess around the same time as you, I just had to take it upon myself to play matchmaker! So I’d like at least 50% of the credit and reward, please and thank you.”

“I- what-” Eva sputtered, trying to come to terms with the new information. “Mattie- you- oh my God.”

“Oh my God indeed,” Mattie bit into her muffin and swallowed. “So anyways, you’re welcome for getting you a girlfriend.”

Eva stared at the younger girl, mouth slightly open and muffin hanging loosely in her hand. Farrah clapped a hand over her mouth as she wheezed through a mess of sugar and blueberries, earning herself a death stare from Eva. Phone in one hand, Mattie continued eating her muffin as though nothing had happened, the teasing look on her face only exaggerating as her phone pinged with a message. “Oh! Speaking of, Chess is outside-”

She was cut off as the door burst open, the handle crashing into Eva’s bookcase, knocking her alarm clock to the ground and presenting two dishevelled figures in the doorway. One of them, a tall student probably in their last year of uni, puffed out a breath, a hand tightly clinging to a much shorter student squirming angrily. “Before you say anything, I tried to prevent any of this happening. Wheeler, I’m blaming you entirely for this.”

Mattie only laughed, offering Chess a muffin with her free hand, “Dude, it was totally your idea.”

Eva tried very hard not to stare as Kate finally freed herself from Chess’ grasp with an indignant yelp. “Fuck off! Eva, babe, sweetheart, love of my life, tell me you didn’t fucking know about this beforehand or I will break up with you.”

“No! God, no! You know I didn’t want to be there just as much as you did.” She rested her head gently on top of Kate’s, arms draped over their shoulders. “Believe you me, I’ve also been sorely betrayed today.”

Farrah gagged across the kitchen. “Ew. We should never have set you two up.”

“Bitch.” Eva grinned affectionately at her best friend, batting Kate’s hand down as they sent a middle finger in Farrah’s direction. Conversations carried on for a while, Chess finally being introduced to Farrah, with a muffin being forcefully placed into her hand. Kate whispered to Eva for a second before going out to take a call. Eva smiled knowingly, leaning on the counter to address Mattie, “So…”

Mattie made a face as Eva raised an eyebrow in her direction. “What are you thinking, Sanchez, I don’t like that face.”

“I don’t know…” She feigned thinking, sticking her tongue out as Kate re-entered the room. “Maybe, a little thank-you gift?? Y’know, me and Kate were thinking just now… Seeing as you set us up so nicely, how about you try a blind date yourself?”

Chess and Farrah stifled a laugh in unison, choking a little on their muffins as Mattie’s eyes got wider in horror. “You didn’t.”

Kate smiled sweetly. “Yup! Tonight, seven thirty. It’s payback time, kid.”

“I hate you.”

[twomanyideas]

Through the Spyglass

A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

Gratsu Weekend 2021 Prompt: Secret Pairing(s): Gray x Natsu, Sting x Rogue For @walkinginfiction

AO3 | Next: Ch 2 Summary: 

“You little pervert!” Sting teased, “You’ve been watching him, haven’t you?” 

 “I haven’t!” 

 “Bullshit! How else would you have known that?”

 “I -,” Natsu tried to think of any other way he could have discovered that little fact, but came up empty. “It’s only been a few times, I swear! I was just trying to find an excuse to approach him.” He hid his face in his hands, embarrassed at being found out. 

 “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got just the thing!

Chapter 1

“Nghh, that’s soooo good!”

It mattered little to Natsu whether his housemate Sting was fucking his new boyfriend Rogue or just eating. He’d already discovered the hard way that it was impossible to tell the difference from their sounds. Each one a reminder that while Sting was feasting, Natsu was very much in the middle of a famine.

“You like that?”

Natsu scowled in response. Did they have to be so fucking loud? He turned his stereo on, determined to drown out the noises that were coming from the room next door. It helped a little, but not enough to distract him from what may or may not be happening. And it was late enough there’d be nowhere for him to go.

Where were those comic books he’d been meaning to catch up on? A quick glance around his room was enough to let him know there was no way in hell he was finding anything. Clothes, both clean and dirty, littered the floor and just about every other available surface except his closet. Sealed boxes lined up the walls, waiting for him to get his shit together and finally unpack.

Fiine.

He grabbed as many clothes as he could carry and made his way to their laundry room, also known as the bathroom.

Lalala I can’t hear you, he thought as he walked past Sting’s closed door, although of course he could, and now Rogue was joining in, expressing his approval at what must arguably be the most delicious ice cream sundae ever fucking made.

Why had he agreed to room with Sting again?

Open the washer door, chuck clothes inside, pour detergent in the dispenser and hit start. Great, ten points for adulting. Covering his ears with his hands, he hurried back to his room, grabbed the nearest box and sat down, using his pocketknife to open it up. Might as well get started on some of those now that he could walk around his room again.

That was his intent, but in the end he couldn’t help but examine the items one by one, fascinated by what he found among them. To be fair, even he would admit most of it was junk. He had no recollection of how he’d ended up with most of it, but that’s what made them so fascinating.

Score!

Finding a container of spicy jalapeño cotton candy, age unknown, he shoved some into his mouth. It was a little stale, but perfectly edible.

He placed the textbooks on the floor without a second look, having already seen more of them than he ever wanted to. There were some more clothes, the exercise ones he’d been searching for, for quite some time.

He scratched his head, wondering who the hell had packed this box. A set of three sex dice, a gag gift from Loke, were next. Maybe he should give them to Sting. He’d certainly get more use out of them.

Knit Your Own Boyfriend, another gag gift from Sting this time, joined the textbooks on the floor. Porn for Women, a book which had pictures of guys doing household chores and shit, almost joined it until Natsu realized some models in it were pretty hot. He’d keep that one.

101 Ways to Annoy Your Roommate

He glared at the wall between their rooms. Yep, keeping that one too.

Next came decision dice with messages like Fuck it, Fuck that and Fuck If I Know, followed by a nose flute, a bottle of Maybe You Touched Your Genitals hand sanitizer, a tube of bacon lip balm, and a bar of Uranus soap. Every item he pulled out was more entertaining than the last.

He positioned the flute over his nose and mouth and breathed out, having a great time attempting to play along to the music while he continued unpacking, bursting into giggles and some rather interesting sounds when he realized how terrible he sounded.

It was only when he took out the last item, a pair of binoculars Igneel had gifted him when he’d been a boy scout many, many years ago, that he realized all he’d done was clutter the floor again by spreading out the box's contents.

In no mood to do even more cleaning up, he examined the binoculars carefully, worried they might have broken in the move. He should probably test them out.

Picking a random subject- the dragon poster hanging above his bed, he aimed the binoculars on it and looked through them. They seemed in great condition, outside of some smudges and dust on the lenses. He grabbed a microfiber cloth off his desk and used it to wipe the lenses clean.

With nothing better to do, he pulled his curtains back and held the binoculars up to his eyes, searching for anything that might hold his interest for a few minutes. He’d settle for a trash-digging raccoon at this point.

What he found, however, was much more interesting. The house across from theirs, which had sported a For Rent sign for as long as he could remember, had a moving van in front of it, and the lights inside the house were on. He was a little curious why someone would move in this late at night, but that thought ceased to have any importance as soon as he got a good look at his future husband- uhm, new neighbor.

The guy had dark hair that stood up in unruly spikes. His skin gleamed in the moonlight, so much so Natsu wondered if he might be glittering like a certain gay vampire. He can absolutely bite me! Yum! And if that wasn't the sexiest fucking glower he’d ever seen in his life, Natsu didn't know what was.

He couldn’t make out the guy’s eyes, but he was almost willing to bet they were blue. This was all great, but it was his chest that Natsu kept staring at because for once in his life God had been merciful and the guy was shirtless, giving him the opportunity to ogle every one of his taut muscles.

“What are you doing?”

Natsu jumped at the sound of Sting yelling behind him, almost losing his grip on the binoculars. His hand moved to his heart as the nose flute squeaked loudly from his rapid breaths. He removed it, tossing it on his bed, and glaring at his roommate who stood laughing at him. “Jesus Fucking Christ, Sting!”

“What? I tried calling out to you, but your music was too loud.” Sting tiptoed his way around the mess on the floor to get to the stereo, lowering the volume so they could speak without having to shout at each other.

“Well, if you and Rogue hadn’t been having a food orgy next door, I wouldn’t have had to play it so loud.”

“Yeah, nice deflect. Wait, are those your scout binoculars? What were you looking at?”

“N-nothing, yep nothing at all.” “Ah, so you like listening in and spying on people, huh?” Rogue stood in the doorway, still licking what Natsu only hoped would be sundae off his fingers.

“I do not!” Natsu spluttered, “You guys are loud enough the new neighbor probably heard you!”

Fuck.

“There’s a new neighbor?!” Sting jumped over the box, grabbing the binoculars, which were still hanging around Natsu’s neck, and pulling them up to his eyes. “Oh, I see what you were looking at, alright,” he snorted.

“You’re cho-king me,” Natsu gasped out. “Whoops, sorry about that-” Sting pulled the string over Natsu’s head and continued to observe the scene across the street. “You should go over there and offer to help him out.”

“Hell no.” “Why not? He’s cute.”

“Because it’s like 11 o’clock and he’ll think I’m a weirdo.”

“It’s not that late. If we were still at the dorm, you wouldn’t think twice about it,” Sting pointed out. “You could take your shirt off too.”

“Yeah, cause that’s normal,” Natsu didn’t like the way Sting’s eyes seemed to twinkle. Not one bit.

“Man up, Dragneel,” Rogue dared, joining them at the window to get a look at the guy they were talking about.

“Look, I get you guys would like nothing more than to get me out of the house, but I’m broke and I’m not about to go make a fool of myself just so you can get it on. Besides, newsflash, not everyone is gay.” “Your point? Not everyone’s straight, either,” Rogue countered, crossing his arms. “Yeah, and I hate to break it to you, but we’re gonna get it on regardless,” Sting snickered, earning himself an eye roll from Rogue when he used the binoculars to zoom in on him.

“Right, well, don’t let me keep you,” Natsu said, grabbing the binoculars from Sting before he shoved both of them away from the window and closed the curtain.

“Ooh, sex dice!”

“You want them? Here, take them,” Natsu said, offering the dice to Sting and then throwing them out the door as hard as he could.

“Hey!”

“You don’t really expect him to chase after them, do you?” Rogue chuckled, unconvinced, but his laughter died abruptly when Sting hurdled over all the crap on the floor like some kind of Olympic athlete. “Suck, toes, 50 seconds!” “You were saying?” Natsu’s grin was smug as he shooed Rogue out of his room, locking the door behind him and collapsing in a tired heap on the floor. Those two were fucking exhausting.

A few moments later he realized he was wasting precious time and dragged himself back to the window, hoping to find his new neighbor still out there lifting boxes out of the van. Sadly for him, he was not. Although the lights were still on, the doors to the moving van were closed and despite his best efforts, Natsu wasn’t able to see him anywhere inside the house either.

He had to admit that Rogue was right. It was stupid not to even try just because he was afraid of a negative outcome. That had never exactly been the Dragneel way of doing things, although of course that might also be why he crashed and burned much more than he scored.

His cheering squad, however, was about as dangerous as a firing one, so if he was going to make a move he’d have to keep it a secret from them for as long as he could manage it.

He’d just have to watch a little longer, at least until he found an opportunity to introduce himself. Satisfied with this plan, he set his music on a timer and climbed into bed, already looking forward to learning more about his neighbor in the coming days.

0-0

“He’s so not straight,” Rogue called from the bottom of the stairs, closing the front door behind him and announcing his arrival a moment before coming up.

“Yay, you’re back,” Natsu muttered, not even bothering to look up from the magazine he’d been reading.

“Who’s not straight?” Sting came out from the kitchen, holding a bowl of chips and plopping on their living room couch.

“Your new neighbor,” Rogue said, looking incredibly pleased with himself as he took off his shoes and jacket.

Natsu flipped the page, refusing to take the bait even though he was itching to know more. “Fascinating, and how would you know that exactly? Did he show you his membership card?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Well, that caught his interest. Natsu waited for him to say more but the sonofabitch knew he had him and now he was going to force him to ask. Sadistic asshole.

He stayed strong, willing Sting to ask for him, but the bastard just kept shoving chips into his mouth and watching the two of them with interest.

Natsu turned the page of his magazine slowly, attempting to wait Rogue out.

“I saw him arrive when I got here, so I thought I should introduce myself,” Rogue explained, keeping Natsu waiting while he joined Sting on the couch, greeting him with a kiss.

“You talked to him?!” Natsu threw his magazine on their coffee table, dropping all pretense of disinterest. “What did he say?!”

“He said his name’s Gray Fullbuster, and that he moved in a few days ago. So then I said, yeah, I know, we watched you through a pair of binoculars.” Natsu could feel all color vanishing from his face, while Sting almost choked on his chips. “Kidding,” Rogue snorted, smacking his boyfriend on the back a few times. “I asked him where he’s from since he has a bit of an accent. Turns out he’s from Isvan.” “He’s got an accent?” Natsu groaned. He was so screwed.

“What’s the matter with him?”

“Natsu has a thing for accents, always has.” “And you have a thing for assholes!” Natsu retorted, tossing a pillow at Sting’s face, hoping he’d stop laughing. “I mean, don’t we all?” Sting caught the pillow and put it behind his head. “Oh, speaking of which, how do you know he isn’t straight?” “It wasn’t hard,” Rogue shrugged, shoving his hair back away from his face, “His backpack had a bi flag pin on it. Oh, and he asked me if there was an art supplies store downtown, so I figure he’s an artist.”

“Yeah, he is.” Natsu blurted out, recalling the night he’d spent an hour watching Gray sketching a cat, fascinated by how lifelike he’d made it seem. The sudden look that passed between his friends made him realize his mistake.

“You little pervert!” Sting teased, “You’ve been watching him, haven’t you?”

“I haven’t!”

“Bullshit! How else would you have known that?”

“I -,” Natsu tried to think of any other way he could have discovered that little fact, but came up empty. “It’s only been a few times, I swear! I was just trying to find an excuse to approach him.” He hid his face in his hands, embarrassed at being found out.

“Well, lucky for you, I’ve got just the thing!”

Natsu peered at Rogue from between his fingers, not sure he liked the way he’d said that, especially when he looked like a cat who had just swallowed a canary whole.

“What did you do?”

Almost as if by magic, several envelopes materialized in Rogue’s hand.

“I may have liberated some of his mail.”

“Are you out of your mind?! You can’t just take someone’s mail, Rogue. That’s illegal!” “Says the stalker. Besides, it’s only illegal if you get caught,” Rogue smirked, examining the envelopes in his hand before setting them on the coffee table. “These were just delivered to the wrong mailbox, that’s all. They look important, though. You should make sure he gets them back. We wouldn’t want him to get in trouble.”

Sting had the decency to look shocked, but that only lasted for about a minute, replaced by what Natsu could only interpret as admiration. “That’s perfect!” And next thing he knew, they were in full scheming mode, mumbling to each other as if he wasn’t even there. “He should open up a few buttons, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Maybe fluff up his hair?”

"On it!"

“Oh, no. I want no part of whatever it is you two are thinking!” Natsu made a show of grabbing his magazine and opening it back up, but Sting had already gone off to his bedroom. The ominous sounds of him rummaging through closets and drawers traveled through the walls, and soon he returned holding a bunch of items. A comb, a tube of hair gel, some fancy-looking body spray, one of his infamous crop tops, and… was that Natsu's bacon lip balm?

"Did you just steal that lip balm from my room?"

"It's not stealing if I'm using it on you, dumbass. Now be still."

“Get away from me with that crap!” Natsu stood up from his chair, ready to bolt and lock himself in his bedroom.

“You wound me,” Sting sighed. "I even grabbed you my best one-" he held up the top and pouted at it.

“I am not putting on one of your stupid shirts.”

"His shirt's fine," Rogue sided with Natsu for once, “it just needs some re-adjustments.” He straightened the collar of Natsu’s button-up, pulled down the sleeves so he could roll them up neatly again, and opened up the two top buttons.

“Pucker up!” Sting made kissy faces as he approached him with the lip balm, and although Natsu refused to purse his lips, that did nothing to dissuade him. He still managed to apply a generous amount of it on the general area of his mouth.

“Ugh, that tastes awful!” Natsu complained, wiping the excess off with his hand.

“It’s bacon, man. All dudes love bacon, am I right?” “On my plate, yes. But on your face?” Rogue looked like someone spit in his socks.

Sting didn’t let Rogue’s response get him down, cheerfully moving on to the next item in his arsenal. A bottle of body spray that had little bits of something floating in it. Was that-

“Glitter?! No way, no how. I’m going to look ridiculous.”

“You’re going to look and smell awesome.”

“It’s glitter.”

“Which of us has a boyfriend?”

Okay, Sting had him there, but did he really need to be primped up like some schoolgirl about to go to Prom just to say hi to the guy? It was humiliating. If he went through with this ridiculous ploy, and that was still a big if, he wanted to at least make a good impression.

“It smells nice, and Gray’s an artist. Maybe he’d appreciate the glitter,” Rogue said, grabbing some chips from the bowl and moving over by Sting.

“He doesn’t make kids art projects. He draws beautiful, realistic looking pictures.”

“Oh, sorry,” Rogue fake apologized, holding up one hand next to his head while feeding Sting chips with the other.

Sting took advantage of Natsu’s distraction, spraying him before he could protest further.

“Hey, watch the face!”

Natsu had to admit the spray smelled nice, but in his rush to do a sneak attack, Sting had sprayed very liberally, covering not only Natsu but the coffee table, which had Gray’s mail on it.

“Oh, great. How am I supposed to explain that?”

“Will you chill? By the time I’m done with you, Gray won’t care about some stupid glitter on his mail,” Sting promised as he set the spray down and opened the tube of hair gel, squeezing some into his hand and moving to pluck at Natsu's hair.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Natsu grumbled.

“Oh, come on, have I ever steered you wrong before?” Sting grinned, brimming with confidence, only to wince as he paused to think. “Okay, maybe don’t answer that.”

Natsu chuckled, thinking back to some of Sting’s more hare-brained suggestions over the years. He had this habit of getting carried away, but Natsu had never regretted going along. Even when things went sideways, they always had fun, and he knew his friend’s affection for him was genuine. So why was he fighting him so much now, when he was only trying to help?

“Fine, fine, do your worst.”

"Pftt, please. I perform nothing but miracles."

Rogue grabbed a stool from their kitchen island and brought it into the living room, gesturing for Natsu to sit so Sting could get started.

He let Sting fuss over his hair for the next ten minutes, his fingers sculpting it into well-defined spikes away from his face.

“Done!”

“Not bad,” Rogue said after giving him a once over. He grabbed the mail from the table and handed it over. “Now get going.”

“What, now?”

“No, next week. Yes, now!”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Natsu hedged.

“On that note,” Sting stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out an object that he placed on the coffee table. “Roll.”

Natsu recognized the decision dice he’d left on his desk. "Seriously?! What are you two, kleptos?"

“Just roll.”

“Okay, but if it says no, we’re done here, right?”

Natsu picked up the dice and studied them, unsure of what he wanted the outcome to be. He shook them lightly in his hands and tossed them on the coffee table.

“Fuck in’ a?” “Fuckin’ A!” Sting cheered and raced to his room again for more digging through drawers, and this time he returned with only two foil packaged items that fitted between his fingers. Both things Natsu easily recognized but had no intention of using during his first meeting with Gray. “Oh my God!” he backed away, “I’m just gonna go return his mail and introduce myself!”

“You were a Scout, weren’t you?” Sting grinned, extending his hand to offer the packets. “Didn’t they teach you to always be prepared?”

“I’m just gonna go drop these off,” Natsu rushed out of the room and down the stairs, hearing Sting and Rogue’s laughter and a warning to not be back soon.

@fuckyeahgratsu

[luxekook]

bangtan host club ❯ part i

❯ pairing: ot7 x reader

❯ genre: ouran au, college au, crack, smut

❯ summary: when you had decided to take summer lessons at your college, you hadn’t factored in the impending presence of seven insufferably attractive and arrogant boys… the bangtan host club. 

❯ word count: 2.1k

❯ warnings: 18+, cursing, suggestive language, terrible pet names, excessive dramatics

❯ banner by: maggie @kimtaehyunq​

a/n: while this fic is loosely based off of the anime version of ouran highschool host club, it is set in university - meaning that all of the boys are of age (at least 21 years old)

host club members

❯ Kim Namjoon as “Kyoya Ootori” ❯ Kim Seokjin as “Tamaki Suoh” ❯ Min Yoongi as “Takashi ‘Mori’ Morinozuka” ❯ Jung Hoseok as “Mitsukuni ‘Honey’ Haninozuka” ❯ Park Jimin as “Hikaru Hitachiin” ❯ Kim Taehyung as “Kaoru Hitachiin” ❯ Jung Jungkook as “Haruhi Fujioka”

Taking summer classes had never been on my agenda, my studies having been mapped out in detail since the day I arrived on campus three years ago. And then the university’s president suddenly has this utterly groundbreaking epiphany and adjusts the curriculum to “ensure that all students will leave Bangtan University well-rounded”. 

Screw that. My ass is already well-rounded enough, thank you very much.

But despite my best efforts (i.e. begging President Kim to make an exception followed by crafting a petition that gained over ten thousand signatures), I have found that there is no avoiding the dastardly new physical education requirement. And since my schedule for my upcoming senior year has been planned and set for literal years, I’ve been forced to enroll in the sole summer physical education class offered at Bangtan University - Introduction to Weight Lifting.

I wish I was kidding.

To say that I am dreading the start of class tomorrow would be an extreme understatement. I’ll be lucky to escape this summer without physical injury or the loss of my dignity. Athletics have never been my strong suit, and I’ve only entered our campus gym to go to the smoothie bar.

Groaning at just the mere thought of working out and being graded for it, I trek down the streets of outer campus towards the library, swearing under my breath and sweating profusely.

It’s a blazing hot, blue-skied Sunday in July. Typically, I would be lying on a beach somewhere with a drink in my hand, soaking in the warmth of the sun with joy. But instead, here I am, sweltering and desperate for air conditioning after my ancient window unit wheezed its final breath last night. The comfortable chill of the library is my only hope aside from my landlord who promised to fix my air conditioning by tomorrow.

My frustration builds as I turn onto the block lined with imposing and picturesque estates in which the upper echelon of Bangtan University resides. I’d bet the very last ice-pack in my freezer that these houses have unfailing central air.

I pick up my pace, worn Doc Marten platform sandals slapping against the hot pavement. The pristine mansions seem to mock my distress as they exude the coolness of unbothered wealth. Despite there being no Greek life here at Bangtan University, the lack of letters emblazoned on the numerous estates I pass does not symbolize a lack of status. 

This block is home to the athletic teams who throw massive parties whenever they happen to be in the off-season. It’s also home to the legacy clubs - the exclusive groups of current students who are relatives of past alumni.

And last but not least, this block is home to the infamous Bangtan Host Club, a small group of idle rich boys with exceptionally good looks and a penchant for entertaining. 

The aforementioned group’s house comes into view as I draw nearer to campus. The host club’s mansion sits on the corner lot right across the street from campus. Typically, students are wary of such proximity - but not those boys. No, they’re un-phased, throwing massive parties every weekend without fail and without repercussion.

During my first semester, I had been confused as to why their parties had never been shut down; but now I know better. The host club’s president Kim Seokjin is the son of none other than the fucking president of the university - the very same man who damned me to my weight lifting fate.

In fact, almost the entire host club is related to someone with influence - either at the university or within the surrounding community. The only exception to the wealth factor is Jeon Jungkook, who attends Bangtan University on a scholarship not unlike myself.

About 99% of the university are host club stans. As for me? I don’t subscribe to that bullshit. And I do mean literally ‘subscribe’. They have newsletters, merch and everything. I would say I don’t understand it at all, but a small part of me does.

They’re fucking gorgeous. Like I’m talking Tom Ford at New York Fashion Week gorgeous. Armani catalogue centerfold gorgeous. Goddamn Sports Illustrated Men’s Swimsuit Edition gorgeous. 

In fact, I’m pretty sure Kim Seokjin actually does model in his spare time. With his long limbs, broad shoulders and pillowy lips, Seokjin certainly has the features for it. My freshman year roommate bought so many posters of Seokjin from the host club’s merch website I think I could identify him from a hundred yards away in the dark. 

“Hey!” The bellow emanates from the porch of the host club’s house and jolts me from my memories, “Hey, princess!”

I let out a snort. Whoever that pet name is directed at needs to shut that down immediately. I mean, ‘princess’? In this economy? Please. I need off this block ASAP.

“Hello? I’m talking to you, angel!” 

The voice sounds closer now, and my eyes squeeze shut. Oh god, this person cannot be talking to me, can they?

Princess? Angel?

The sheer absurdity pushes me onward, and I do not spare a single glance in the direction where the inane greetings originated. Alas, I barely make it two feet before a tall figure screeches to a halt in front of me, panting like he had just run a marathon. 

I blink as I take in the very boy who just crossed my mind a minute earlier. Kim Seokjin looms over me, chest heaving and smile gleaming.

“Cupcake, hello!” his smile grows wider, “Why didn’t you answer me? I was talking to you.”

My brain is trying to wrap itself around the unfathomable phenomenon I’m currently witnessing. The host club president is beaming down at me like I’m the last custom Rolex ever made. His white t-shirt that probably costs more than my rent stretches across his shoulders in a way that has to be illegal. 

A bead of sweat drips down my back between my shoulder blades. I don’t have time for this attractive detour; I only have time for a long sip of iced water and a seat under an air conditioning vent somewhere deep within the recesses of the quiet library.

“Were you?” I shrug, looking over his illegally broad shoulder and plotting my escape, “I didn’t realize, considering my name isn’t princess, angel or cupcake.”

I inwardly cringe at my tone. I have a tendency to be irritable when the weather is hot, and it seems like today is no exception.

Seokjin stares down at me, his cocky expression wavering for a split second before snapping back into place. “Well, tell me your name then, sunshine, so that I may cordially invite you to the host club’s latest summer extravaganza!” His dark brown eyes sparkle as he remains seemingly impervious to my building ire, beaming down at me.

“No, thank you,” I shake my head decisively and attempt to sidestep around him. 

None of my friends are on campus for the summer, and there is no way I'm going alone to a party full of strangers. That just screams bad decisions, just like the time I willingly ate the dining hall’s “Mystery Meat Special” during my second semester.

Seokjin cuts off my path yet again, and my scowl intensifies as I glare up at him, “Could you move, please?”

Seokjin gapes back at me, “D-don’t you want to come to our party?” I stare at him with eyebrows raised. He continues at a higher decibel, “Don’t you know who I am?”

The nerve of this boy. My eyes scrunch shut as I send a quick plea to anyone out there in the universe to send me patience and then internally count backwards from ten. 

“Yes, I know who you are, Kim,” I finally say, completely exasperated, “And no, I still don’t want to go to your party.”

Seokjin is gobsmacked, looking like he’s seen a ghost as he stands before me open-mouthed. For a second, I allow myself to indulge one more time in his attractiveness, my eyes wandering along his toned torso, his muscular arms, his high cheekbones, his messy brown hair. 

And then he bounces back, snapping his fingers, “Aha! I know what this is. You’re playing hard to get! Okay, I can play along with you, sunshine.”

It’s my turn to gape at him this time, watching as he mumbles to himself about how I must want him to beg for me and how he would just love to do so. I’m about to put a stop to this madness when he spreads his arms wide and announces loud enough for the entire block to hear, “Sunshine, please, attend our party! My heart longs for your presence, and I will only be happy if I can have your arm in mine next Friday night...”

I’m honestly beginning to worry about the boy in front of me. Is he completely unhinged? Am I being Punk’d right now? 

Seokjin prattles on, “So, my sun, my moon, my stars, will you please do me the honor of joining me for a night of fun courtesy of the host club? No guest has yet to be disappointed and—!”

I finally just reach up and cover his mouth with my palm, steadfastly ignoring how plush his lips feel against my skin. “Kim Seokjin!” I hiss, “I promise I am not playing hard to get. I simply do not want to go to your party. Now, please, for the love of god, let me walk by you in peace.”

Loud bursts of laughter sound immediately after I finish speaking, and I whip around to locate the source. Two boys jog over to where Seokjin and I are standing on the pavement. Their laughter doesn’t subside with their approach. If anything, it grows louder.

“Oh, come on, pres,” the pink-haired boy who I know to be Park Jimin jeers, his melodic giggles punctuating each word. “Is this how you plan on handling your first rejection?”

My eyebrows pull together in confusion as I turn to face Seokjin, only to find him lying dramatically on the lawn in front of his house with one arm throw over his face.

“Go away, Jimin,” Seokjin groans, ripping out a handful of grass and throwing it at the other boy. Obviously, he doesn't calculate for the wind and sputters when the grass blows back in his face.

“Boss, you’ve really hit a new low,” the blue-haired boy - Kim Taehyung - grins as he looks back and forth between me and the over-the-top performance happening on the lawn. All Seokjin does in return is flip Taehyung off, seeming to have learned from his grass-throwing lesson.

Well, there’s no need for me to stay a second longer within this realm of crazy.

I turn on my heel and head off towards the library, renewed in my desperation for the relief of blissfully cold air.

Alas, I don’t get too far before the two boys with colorful hair are in front of me - each with an arm thrown over the other’s shoulders. 

“Well, well, well… I must say,” Taehyung drawls.

“You’re quite an intriguing little thing,” Jimin cocks his head, looking me up and down. I try in vain to steel myself against the heated assessments both boys are giving me.

I’d heard a lot about these two - most of it being completely outlandish and borderline unbelievable. Do they really do everything together?

It’s as if that thought is written all over my face as the smirks grow on the faces of Jimin and Taehyung. “If you don’t want to come to our party for Jin-hyung…”

“Will you come for us?” Taehyung finishes Jimin’s thought, and I am almost certain that he intended for that question to be as suggestive as it sounded.

Before I can even attempt to answer, Seokjin launches up from the ground and barges in between the two boys. “Yah! That is no way to speak to a lady! Have I taught you nothing? Don’t you fools remember lesson number fifty-two on being a good host?”

“We didn’t say anything inappropriate, pres,” Taehyung shrugs, looking pleased with how riled up the older boy is growing. His pink-haired counterpart grins, “If anything, you’re the one with the dirty mind, twisting our innocent words into such filth.”

It’s as if Seokjin is struck by lightning - his shock turning him pale as a ghost before the redness overtakes him. I cannot tell if it’s due to embarrassment or anger. All I know is that I need to bounce.

When Mt. Seokjin finally erupts, I slink away and practically jog across the street to campus. Ah, free at last...

a/n: this is part one in my host club series! originally i was going to make this a giant one-shot but i figured i would just break it up into smaller pieces so that i could get some content out uwu

© luxekook do not repost, edit or translate

[skullrock]

the campers, chapter seven

chapter seven - the fight 

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: Steve, Hopper, and the Party talk theories while you and Steve engage in a feud. 

warnings: swearin’ <3 angst <3

word count: 2.8k

a/n: you can catch up on the series here! I changed two whole words in the summary to make it more accurate <3

===

The camp was on a full lockdown after the second camper went missing.

Campers now had to be escorted everywhere by a counselor. Counselors also had to escort each other. There was a sinister feeling in the air, one that left everyone uneasy. One camper going missing was one thing; two going missing was another thing entirely. It didn’t seem like an unfortunate coincidence anymore. It seemed intentional and evil.

The people who thought this most were, of course, The Party, Jim Hopper, and Steve Harrington. The evening the news of the second camper broke, everyone squished themselves into a double bedroom, theorizing and planning.

Steve came late - he had to escort campers to the dining hall. His mind hasn’t thought of anything except the missing camper. No one Steve talked to knew who it was, and he had no time to talk to you or any of the kids, beyond Mike telling him to meet in his room at nine. His chest felt tight all day, worried it was someone in the Party. Someone who had been trying to play hero and got caught up in whatever this all was. His heart hammered as he rushed towards Mike’s cabin, slipping into the crowded room with his head spinning.

The room falls silent as he barges in. Hopper is sitting at Mike’s desk while everyone else is spread around the beds and the floor. Everyone looks fearful, and as Steve’s eyes scan the room, he notices the lack of Dustin. Suzie is there, but no Dustin.

Steve’s heart drops.

“Where’s Dustin?” he asks, voice cracking.

“Relax,” Max says. “He snuck out to get pudding from the cafeteria.”

“Snuck out?” Steve hisses, but his body relaxes in relief. “He can’t be out there right now -”

“Steve,” Hopper cuts in, and beckons him to take a seat.

Steve figures that if Hopper’s not concerned, then he shouldn’t be, either. He sits beside El and Mike on Mike’s bed, staying close to Hop as he waits for information.

Hopper keeps his hand over his mouth for a moment, deep in thought, before speaking, directly to Steve, the only other adult in the room. “The camper that went missing was the same age and size as Will.” He tilts his head towards Will, who seems almost catatonic in fear. “And the last camper that went missing was also the same age and size as Will.”

“Well, what do you think that means?” Steve asks. “Do you think it’s looking for him?”

“Will said he can’t feel the Mind Flayer,” Mike interjects. “Right, Will?”

Will goes pale, eyes darting to the floor.

“Right, Will?” Mike repeats, a bit of an edge to his voice.

Will looks back up, shaking his head a little bit. His hand goes to the back of his neck and he shakes his head some more. “I can’t feel him, but I can feel him.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Max says, brows furrowed.

“It’s like… it’s like he’s not here, he’s there,” Will explains. “But there is close.”

“The Upside Down?” Lucas asks, and Will nods.

“I think it’s close, but I don’t know how close,” he explains. “I can’t feel him in this realm, but I think I can feel him in the Upside Down.”

“I can feel it, too,” El says quietly.

Mike and Hopper look at her, scandalized.

“You can feel it? Feel what?” Hopper asks.

“The Upside Down.” El shifts, pulling her legs up to her chest. “I can feel it nearby, but I can’t see it or find it.”

“Jesus,” Steve mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “So you think the Upside Down isn’t in Hawkins, it’s here?”

El and Will nod in unison, frowning.

“Well that’s just great,” Steve says, standing up. “That’s good. That’s great. So it followed us.”

“Maybe it knew El and Will were here,” Lucas tries to explain, but Hopper shakes his head.

“Why would it want Will again?” he asks quietly. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“If they feel something, then it has to be nearby,” Mike says. “Why would both of them feel it at the same time?”

“I don’t know,” Hopper says harshly. “But I’m taking you two -” he points at El and Mike, “back to Hawkins.”

“What?” everyone asks in unison.

“It’s not safe for them here,” Hopper explains, raising his voice over the racket.

“It’s not safe for anyone here,” Steve says, putting his hands on his hips. His heartbeat accelerates at the thought of you being here when this shit is happening. “We need to get to the bottom of this before anyone else gets hurt.”

The room falls quiet. Steve knows, Steve understands that no one wants to deal with this shit again. He gets that. But someone has to, and if it has to be him, then so be it. That’s usually how it goes, anyway.

“I’m not leaving until we figure this out,” he says. “So if -”

The door opens and Dustin walks in, you on his heels, looking frazzled. Dustin has a copious amount of pudding cups balanced in his arms, and you’re carrying two - the ones he managed to drop. You’d found him sneaking around on his own and accompanied him, irritated that no one else went with him.

Everyone freezes at the sight of you, bodies going stiff. Your eyes scan the room, confused - there are way too many people in here, and you don’t know who the hell this grown ass man is. Your eyes fall to Steve, brows furrowed, and then you say, “Why didn’t anybody go with him?”

“Didn’t know he was going,” Steve says, pulling Dustin into the room.

Steve’s irritated - enraged, maybe. You weren’t supposed to be here - Suzie wasn’t, either, but he could at least control what you were a part of. Dustin allowing you to come so far, literally into the room where they’re referencing things you could be killed for, makes his blood boil. Dustin groans at the feeling of Steve’s fingers burying into his arm and he drops the pudding cups.

“God dammit,” Dustin says, shrugging out of his grip and rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?”

“It’s curfew,” you say awkwardly, not understanding what’s going on. “You should all be -”

“So should you,” Steve snaps.

You straighten at his tone, glaring at him. Steve sighs and steps towards the door, holding his hand up to the Party before slipping out with you.

“What the hell?” you whisper. “Why are you so pressed and who the hell is that guy?”

“It’s nothing,” he lies. “I need you to go back to your cabin.”

You cross your arms. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m one of those kids,” you say, beckoning towards the door. “I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t be out -”

“I wouldn’t be out if you’d just taken Dustin -”

“I didn’t know he was going!” he whisper-shouts, becoming more irritated. “Go back to your cabin.”

“You’re not the boss of me -”

“Right now, I am.”

You scoff, your own rage building. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Steve shakes his head and licks his lips, looking over your shoulder. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

Steve sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s complicated.”

You frown and your eyes soften, letting your shoulders relax. You can see how stressed he is and you step forward to reach for him, but he steps back, out of your reach. You frown further and your shoulders slump. “You can talk to me. You know I’m here for you.”

Steve’s inner turmoil reaches a near-boiling point here. He wants to tell you, just like he wanted to tell you at the waterfall. He wants to be like Dustin, he wants to trust and assume things will work out. But he doesn’t want you dead, and he doesn’t want you hurt. He doesn’t want you caught up in any of this. Steve feels his chest tighten, fighting with himself, before he makes the decision to push you away.

“You can’t be right now,” he says. He steps forward and puts his hands on your biceps, pushing you towards the exit. “You need to go.”

“Steve!” you nearly shout, pushing him off of you. “Do not touch me like that.”

Like muscle memory, Steve’s angry venom takes hold of himself yet again, just as it did in high school. Without thinking, he snaps, “You didn’t say that last night.”

You pause in shock, his words running through your head. You scoff and shake your head. “What does that mean?”

Steve feels bile rising in his throat, and he swears he can see Nancy standing before him, not you. He puts up the wall in a desperate attempt to not break down, his jaw clenching and fists balling up. “Don’t you ever stop to think why I don’t tell you things? Why I don’t trust you? Why I didn’t want to touch you last night?”

“Shut up,” you whisper, feeling your chest twist. “You’re being an asshole.”

“I’ve been pushing you away my whole life, why don’t you get the message?”

You know it’s a bluff, but you don’t understand why. You don’t get the total 180 he’s pulling, but you have a bad feeling in your gut. Like maybe he’s involved in shit he shouldn’t be involved in, or maybe he knows too much about the missing campers. Steve doesn’t seem evil, but his inability to open up to you makes you feel sick, and angry, and hurt.

“Stop,” you beg. “Stop being… stop being… you’re bullshit.”

You know it was a mistake the moment it left your lips, and Steve’s eyes hardening and welling with tears reinforces that. But you’re still mad, and you don’t think he has the right to be tearful right now, and it enrages you so much that you repeat it. “You’re bullshit.”

Steve feels the wall crashing down and he does everything to keep it up, locks his knees upright, clenches his fist, grits his teeth. “You think I’m bullshit?”

“You really don’t care about me, do you?” you ask, trying to keep your own wall up, trying to not let the tears fall freely down your cheeks. “Is that why you can’t remember any good thing about me? Because you don’t want to? Because you don’t care?”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, because it’s all a lie. Of course he cares about you, of course he remembers you fondly. Of course he regrets the way he treated you. Of course he’s proud of the person he’s become, and of course he owes that to you.

But he can not and will not admit that right now.

“I don’t,” he says quietly, not even understanding the words leaving his own mouth. “I don’t.”

You weren’t expecting that.

“You don’t?” you repeat.

“I don’t.” He says it louder this time, trying to convince himself it’s true. But he’s still mad, and he wants what he says to hurt, because you hurt him. “And you know what I think is bullshit?”

You don’t answer - you can only stare while forcing the tip of your tongue into the roof of your mouth.

He still remembers the words he told Nancy in the alley by the gym two years ago. I think you’re bullshit. He remembers the anger and heartbreak behind the words, how they hurt to come out, how they made his mouth dry and knees weak.

“I think you’re bullshit,” he says, and then he walks back into Mike’s room, slamming the door behind him.

You stare at the pattern in the wood of the door, mind blank after that, before walking out, trying to push your tears back in with the heels of your palms.

===

Everyone looks up when Steve reenters, noticing how his cheeks are pink and splotchy and his eyes are wet and red. He speaks immediately, scared that someone will ask him about the talk they almost certainly heard through the door. “What’s the plan?”

“You and me,” Hop says, standing from his chair. “We’re going into the woods to see if anything’s going on, or if we can find any… portals.”

“And if we do?” Steve asks.

“I close them,” El says quietly.

“We have to find out if there are any, first,” Hopper says. He heads to the window and opens it, pulls out a cigarette and then lights it. “And if there are, we close them.”

Steve wonders why it sounds so easy, but maybe it’s because he’s suddenly not the only adult in this situation.

“I’ll get my bat,” he says, eager for the comfort of the heavy weapon in his hand.

Dustin hops up and follows him out, making Steve irritated once again.

“I’m not talking about it,” Steve hisses.

“You just sabotaged your entire relationship with Y/N for what?” Dustin asks, pulling on Steve’s arm to make him stop walking.

“So that they don’t die,” Steve says, yanking his arm away. “Maybe you should try having some discretion for once.”

“I told Suzie because I love her,” Dustin explains, fighting to keep up with Steve’s long strides. “And if she knows the kind of trouble she could be in, then that’s to her advantage.”

Steve whips around, pupils flaring. “How would knowing about this help? Did you forget about the entire stack of papers we had to sign? Did you forget that they could kill us and our families and the people we love if this shit gets out?”

“So you don’t trust her then?” Dustin asks.

“Of course I do,” Steve says, feeling sick again.

“Then why don’t you tell her?”

“Because I am not like you.” Steve reaches his arm out, holding Dustin at bay, two fingertips digging into his chest. “Now back off. I’m not explaining myself again.”

Steve continues to walk towards his car, abandoned in the parking lot, but Dustin keeps up with him. Steve turns around again. “I’m serious, back off -“

“I’m not leaving you out here alone,” Dustin says quietly, looking a bit hurt at Steve’s rejection.

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before taking Dustin under his arm, walking slower so Dustin doesn’t have to run.

Nothing is said, but they both understand.

When Steve opens the trunk to his car, a wave of hot air hits him in the face, making him cringe and step back. He leans in for it and pulls it out, smiling fondly as he does, the familiar weight of it comforting. He’d packed it just in case - maybe he’d see a bear and would need it. He never thought he’d potentially have to use it on another Demogorgon.

“You still know how to use that thing?” Dustin asks.

Steve smiles and twirls it in his hand, giving it a few practice swings. “I didn’t score the winning shot on my fourth grade pee-wee team for nothing.”

Steve and Dustin walk side by side as they head back to Mike’s room, both feeling much better with the addition of the bat. Steve’s mind runs off towards you, his stomach twisting again as he processes what he’d said to you. He feels embarrassed and disgusted. He felt like he’d come so far since high school, that he’d gotten over Nancy since October ‘84. It’s a let down for himself, but surely for you, too.

He convinced himself it was the right thing, though. He doesn’t need you to be caught up in this. And once they figure out if the Upside Down has something to do with this, he’ll apologize and come clean. He’ll tell you he was trying to protect you. He’ll tell you he cares about you.

He’ll prove it.

The door creaks open as Steve and Dustin come back in, Hopper finishing up another cigarette. He flicks it out the window and pulls it down, locking it into place.

“Let’s go over this again,” Hopper says.

Steve and Hop are to go into the woods to search for any type of portals or other things that are amiss. It’s a bit of a long shot, since there have already been search parties out for the two missing boys, but maybe they’d find something that the others looked over. The kids were to stay put until Steve and Hop came back. After that, they’d reassess and complete the mission, if there is a mission at all.

Steve silently hopes that there’s nothing out there.

“Ready?” Hopper asks, his hand gripping his pistol.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve replies dryly, his own hands gripping the shaft of the bat.

===

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[afriendlyblackhottie]

Ransom Drysdale Must Die (Chapter One)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale is a serial cheater. The only way to get him to pay for what he’s done is for him to die. Or at least be extremely humiliated. As long as you don’t fall for him.

Pairings: Eventual Ransom Drysdale x black!reader, Ransom Drysdale x Multiple OC’s

Warnings: Swearing. Eventual smut.

(Author’s Note: I was watching John Tucker must die and it made me think of my favorite sweater wearing murder daddy.)

Tags: @night-of-the-living-shred​

Word Count: 2.0k

It's not that you were invisible. You preferred to think of it as keeping a low profile. Growing up, you didn't really have a choice but to keep things to yourself. What was the point of trusting people if all you were going to do was leave? You couldn't make friends or keep them if you'd be moving in another four to six months anyway. Not that it was your choice.

It started at a really young age. Technically before you were even born. Your mom had been a teen parent. Your dad didn't stick around which was all you knew about him. It didn't take long for you to get used to the myriad of men walking in and out of your life. Then you got used to seeing your mom, your only constant, getting treated like garbage over and over and over.

She never had an issue with dating. It was them sticking around that was apparently tricky. The problem is that when it would happen the same thing always happened. She'd binge on chocolate. Use you as a shoulder to cry on. Then you'd be moving to flee into the next city. It was kind of fucked up.

While she cried over the hundredth guy your nose was either buried in a book or painting which had been your only escape. You never wanted to judge your mom. She didn't deserve to always have her heartbroken. But, you also didn't deserve having a mom that wanted to pack up at the first sign of trouble. She didn't seem to get that.

As an adult, you promised yourself that you would find one place and stick to it. It might have hurt your mom a little to watch you go, but she understood that you had to go away for college and stuff. Which is how you ended up in Boston. You kind of remember living in Boston once back in the day. You liked the winters surprisingly and the way the trees looked in the fall. You remembered being happy which is why it sucked so much to leave.

You’d gotten your degree, but finding a job had been difficult. Which is how you ended up working at this country club. Though you could live without all the snobby rich people being total assholes, at least they tipped well. You mostly waitress in the clubhouse where it was usually the older crowd and the families that sucked up to them for the inheritance.

It was also how you first noticed him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. From the moment you laid eyes on him you could tell he was dangerous. Just like those men, your mother would fall for that would inevitably break her heart. That same air of arrogance hanging over him like a cloud, except much better looking with a trust fund to go along with it.

He insisted everyone in the clubhouse call him Hugh. Which according to everyone is what he insists the help call him. God, he's a fucking asshole.

You remember the first time you talked to him. He was so enchanting. It was annoying. He was like Gaston come to life. Just as handsome, just as charming, just as scummy. Sure he made those white polos he wore to play golf look like he'd just stepped off a shoot for GQ. His gaze was enough to make any woman swoon. Even you as much as you hated to admit it.

It'd been one of the few times you'd worked at the bar. Someone had called out and being the new girl you were told to take their spot. "Sweetheart, be useful and get me a bourbon," he'd said in this rude tone.

"Not even a please?" You muttered under your breath as you turned your back to get a glass.

"What was that?" He asked, with a quirk in his eyebrow.

You kissed your teeth before turning back to him,  "Excuse me?" You plastered a sweet smile on your face.

"You got something to say? Say it." He challenged.

You shook your head. "I didn't... I didn't say anything."

He chuckled. "Okay, lo-"

Your jaw dropped as you put your hand on your chest. "Oh my god, Sir, if you're already drunk I can't serve you. You'd be a liability."

"That's a big word. Did they teach you that in community college?" The glare in his eye was intense and you couldn't help it as a smile spread across your face.

"Actually I think I learned it from where you get your trust fund."

You were surprised when he laughed. But, not that little sarcastic chuckle. Like an actual laugh. "Usually I'd call the manager over and enjoy them firing you in front of me, but lucky for you I'm in a good mood and kind of enjoying this. Now get me my bourbon."

"One bourbon coming up." You shrugged.

You talked with him for the rest of your shift surprisingly. The conversation going from hostile to surprisingly pleasant. He’d told you about some issue he’d been having with his grandfather that he hadn’t told the rest of his family he laughed at the idea of them finding out. Said he couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when they found out everything was going to the nurse.

It was the trashy rich people drama that you craved.

“I know there’s gonna be a lot of bullshit when they find out they aren’t getting that house,” he’d scoffed, looking up at you from his drink.

“I’d be pissed too,” you replied. “I’m sure that house looks like a museum. I’d love to see it.”

“It’s insane.” He nodded. “Imagine like a horror museum with one of those escape rooms.”

You laughed. “So like plastic spiders? Cobwebs? Ghosts!” What a turn around this had been from the initial conversation the two of you were having.

“Not at all,” he said laughing. “It’s more like everything he’s ever thought for his novels, he just adds to his home. Like he needs the visualization. He has a secret window and a chair with knives. It’s insane.”

“That actually sounds pretty cool. Your grandpa sounds like a pretty cool guy, you must admire him a lot.”

“I mean... yeah, but I’d never tell him that.”

“Why not?” You asked with a chuckle.

“It’s complicated,” he answered, before bringing his glass up to his lips. “Like, I love him, but....”

“No. I get it.” Of course, you did. Your mom was a complicated figure in your life, but you could never not love her.

“I’ve done a lot of shit.” He shrugged. “So, I think it’s mutual.”

“At least his house sounds interesting. Like a work of art. I’m kind of a sucker for art.”

“Do you paint? Draw? Doodle on an iPad.” The way he smiled up at you, you would have never guessed that he was the giant asshole everyone made him out to be. There was this softness there even if it was hiding under his arrogant exterior.

You chuckled. “I paint. Though I do partake in the doodling on iPads.”

“I’d love to see your work sometime,” he said. “Do you sell?”

“I haven’t,” you replied. “But, I’m open to it. I guess. I’d show you now, but I’m not allowed to have my phone on the floor.”

“Oh so I’m not worth risking being fired for, I get it,” he joked, shaking his head as if he was offended.

You laughed, tilting your head back. “I know right. I’m already risking it by even talking to you. Harrington is so strict.”

There was this squint on his face as he kind of looked you up and down. It felt like he was studying you and it made you feel like you were under a microscope. “You’ve got a cute laugh you know that?”

No. Don’t give in. You had to tell yourself. You didn’t want to get involved with anyone you’d have to workaround. Besides, it was Ransom Drysdale. You’d just seen him with a woman yesterday. “Thank you,” you brushed him off. “Can I get you another drink?”

He sighed, checking the time on his phone. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat. I have to get going. Maybe I’ll stop by soon so we can talk again. Maybe show me some of your work?”

“Sure.”

He’d left you a forty dollar tip. You were not expecting that.

You’d left work that night feeling pretty good. Not that you were expecting him to fall in love with you or anything. Or for anything to happen at all. It was just a nice encounter with the guy everyone was obsessed with here. Besides you promised yourself you’d never, ever fall into the same trap as Mom had.

It’s not that you didn’t date. You were picky, though. The few relationships you’d had were okay, but you didn’t want to get hurt so you never wanted to get in too deeply.

Then the next day you had come to work, he’d walked in with Marissa on his arm. That stopped any and all thoughts you may have had. It was during that lull between when they'd stopped serving breakfast and brought out the lunch menus. You weren’t surprised that a man like Hugh Ransom Drysdale would be dating a woman like Marissa Clermont. She was exactly the type of woman men like him go for. You know a model IT girl type of deal.

It wasn’t just because he’d been dating Marissa. Of course not. It was because the day before you he’d just come in with Amber Taylor. The daughter of a retired Boston Celtics player. Also, a beautiful woman (also a model you think) who clearly didn’t know her boyfriend was two-timing her.

“Fascinating isn’t it?” Your co-worker, Britt, interrupted your thoughts as she’d come back from taking their drink order. Her arms were crossed as she tried to not make it too obvious that was she looking over at them. “He comes in here with different women and none of them have any idea.”

You frowned as you saw him whispering in her ear, making her giggle, probably telling her the same thing he told Amber just yesterday. “Yeah, I see that,” you replied. “How does he get away with it?”

“Ladies! Back to work!” Harrington, your manager, barked towards the both of you which made the both of you scurry off before she even had the chance to answer. You didn’t even get to talk to her because her shift was over soon then you were off the next day. You weren’t even sure why you cared so much.

When you got back to work it was during that lull time. Ransom was there of course with a different woman. Chloe Daniels. A blonde that had been the sole heir to her husband’s entire fortune no matter how much his ex wife or adult children tried to fight it. You were happy you got to witness the drama for that.

“He messes around with girls that don’t talk to each other,” Britt was finally able to explain. “So, they never find out. At least, that’s what the story around here is.”

“Wow he has a whole system worked out...” you crinkle your nose. Ugh what a fucking pig.  Just like your mother and those douchebags she dated.

“I mean, I kind of get it,” Britt said. “He’s hot. I might put up with being treated like trash for that much. Hell, I’ve put up being treated like trash for much less.”

You held in the laugh you wanted to let out as you could see Harrington lurking around, waiting to say something to the two of you. He never missed his chance to give out orders.

For as long as the couple sat through you couldn’t stop staring. Britt was right. It was fascinating.

[kyramidoriya]

KiriDeku Week Day 2

Prompt: Training

Izuku and Eijirou loved this time of night. It was 8 pm, and it was time to tuck their twins into bed for the night. It had been an exciting day at grandma’s house for them, and they were pooped out. 

However, no matter how tired they were, they could never sleep without a bedtime story from their fathers. It often consisted of all four of them jumping in their parents’ bed, and they would tell the kids wonderful stories until they both fell asleep in between their dads. Then Izuku and Eijirou would pick up their kiddos and tuck them into their own rooms for the night. 

It was a tried and true method, and both the children and their parents loved that part of their routine.

Izuku and Eijirou climbed into their own sides of the bed, and Shurui and Yūki climbed in after them. They snuggled in between their dads and propped themselves up on all of the pillows. 

“Daddy, what are you going to tell us tonight?” Yūki asked, with stars in his eyes as he stared up at Izuku.

“I don’t know. What would you guys like to hear about tonight?”

Both kids sat silently for a bit, trying to decide what they wanted to hear about from their parents’ past. Then, Shuri spoke up.

“I know,” she cheered. “Can you tell us about when you guys fell in love?”

“Sure, angel. It’ll be a story from our UA days, then, is that ok?”

“Yes, daddy!”

“Alright, why don’t we have Papa start out?” Izuku looked over at Eijirou with an encouraging smile and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Alright, well, it all started out when we were training…”

——————

Eijirou was walking into the gym late that night, expecting it to be alone. Most of 2-A were already happily passed out in bed, but the redhead had a ton of homework to finish up and was only now making it in for extra training.

However, as he walked in, he found Izuku lying in the middle of the sparring area, mumbling about something.

This wasn’t his normal mumbling, however. Izuku sounded frustrated and angry, and he was clearly distraught about something, but Eijirou couldn’t tell what from this distance.

He was never one to leave a friend alone, though, so he made his way over to Izuku and plopped down on the floor next to him.

“Hey man, you alright?”

Izuku jumped a bit like he hadn’t heard him lay down. He looked upset, but he quickly schooled his face into his typical ‘don’t-worry-about-me’ smile that was already familiar to the whole class.

“Hi, Eijirou! I’m fine! Just frustrated with a new move for my shoot-style.”

“Do you want to work on it? I haven’t trained yet, and I could totally benefit from working with one of the manliest sparring partners at UA!” Eijirou beamed over at Izuku, he knew he was laying it on a little thick, but the genuine look of gratitude from the other boy made it worth it. 

“That would be great, actually. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem! Just give me a minute to stretch!”

Eijirou jumped off the mat and started his stretching routine, having no idea Izuku couldn’t take his eyes off him. He’d had it bad for the redhead for ages now, and he knew this would do nothing for him. But he needed the help, and Eijirou was a great partner, always encouraging and determined. He was precisely what Izuku needed.

Izuku took a moment to do his own stretches, also totally clueless that the redhead had to stop himself from choking when Izuku bent over in his leggings. Eijirou couldn’t believe he had an opportunity to train with basically the strongest guy in class, and he looked so good in those leggings he thought he might explode. 

Eijirou gulped and tried to steady himself before calling out to his friend. “Alright, you ready?”

“I am! Let’s do this!”

They both fell into their spar after that. The two worked their asses off and worked for what felt like hours. Their adrenaline was high, and determination even higher as they trained. Sweat dripped off brows, and eventually, they ended up in a precarious position.

Izuku was on top of Eijirou after having pinned him, and he was too tired to get off right away. Both their chests heaved, and they painted desperately, trying to catch their breath.

But then, they locked eyes. Their hearts were pounding in their chests with adrenaline from both the fight and their proximity. Really, they should have never expected a different outcome.

Izuku dove down, and Eijirou rose up to meet him. Lips locked in a sloppy kiss with equal parts passion and affection. It was over quickly, though, when rational thought finally returned.

Izuku jumped off of Eijirou, both so surprised. They remained silent and then panicked almost simultaneously.

Izuku practically squealed, “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Eijirou! I didn’t mean to do that without permission! I was just excited, and you’re so amazing and-“

“Shit, dude! I totally should have asked first, but you were all hot and heavy on top of me, and holy shit I couldn’t stop-“

They both stopped, realizing what the other person was saying as they just stare for a moment.

“Wait, Izu, did you just say I’m amazing?” Eijirou asked.

“Oh, uhm, yeah.”

“Right, cool, and you meant that like so amazing you wanted to kiss me?”

“Uhm, yes, I did,” Izuku answered.

“Right. Cool. Very cool.”

“Wait, Eijirou, you called me hot?”

“Yeah, I sure did, didn’t I?”

“Oh, well, that’s nice then.” Izuku smiled at him, it was shy, but it was full of so much more emotion Eijirou had never noticed before. So, he decided to shoot his shot.

He scratched at the back of his neck and took a deep breath to settle himself for the big question. “Would you want to go to that ice cream place off-campus after class tomorrow? Like as a super manly ice cream date?”

Izuku’s eyes widened, and his hands shot out to squeeze one of Eijirou’s. “I would love to,” he said.

A blush spread on both their cheeks as they both were so pleased they decided on late training on the same night.

——————

Both kids were happily asleep between their dads. Snoring away and cuddled into the bed.

“You know, they’ll be pissed we put them to bed,” Eijirou said, looking at Izuku with big pleading eyes.

“Don’t be silly, Ei. The kids need their own beds tonight after their day at my mom’s. They’ll be fine.”

“I know, but they’re so cute like this.”

Izuku leaned over his kids to press a kiss to Eijirou’s cheek. “I know, but they need to be in their rooms. You’re as bad as they are sometimes, I swear.”

Eijirou chuckled and climbed out of bed, scooping Yūki into his arms as Izuku scooped up Shurui. 

“I can’t help it if we have cute kids.”

“I know, the cutest. They get that from you,” Izuku said.

“That’s bullshit, man. You’re the cute one they take after, and I couldn’t be luckier.”

[my-fall-from-grace]

god i don’t have a suitable blog but i just want to get my gripes with twitter out now n i am loving ur takes.

Not only is twitter putting a 17 year old on a pedestal just all around going to be a bad thing (people can talk about not infantilising him all they want because he’s nearly 18, but guess what he’s still growing as a person. Age doesn’t stop you from learning and growing, I swear the people tweeting tommy neg must have seen Bo Burnham’s new special where that was literally fucking addressed)

They’re talking about how minority issues aren’t political, they’re reality. And apparently that makes it better for him to constantly be in the spotlight and expected to be forever in the loop? The expectation for a 17 year old to constantly understand and be able to navigate current social affairs is quite frankly fucking ridiculous, especially because the way that social affairs and issues are tackled now is also a very new thing for activism! (what pisses me off is none of what twitters doing is even activism. It’s at best slacktivisim, at worst screaming into a cesspool without making coherent change to anything because twitter doesn’t have that kind of fucking reach to make serious social change without mass demonstrations coinciding with the messages being posted)

Twitter is so at fault for essentially setting him up to fail their expectations. He’s being forced to learn and grow in an era where there is so much pressure to always be right, at an age where he hasn’t stopped mentally growing (and he never will! he’s a human! people change!) and taking everything he says against wanting to be that character they expect of him as him being hateful. No. He’s just aware he has no idea what he’s doing and it is so much more responsible for him to step away and say “I can’t do this” than parrot what he’s been told to say for every cause he doesn’t know about. It’s harmful to get people to be political puppets and make them the face of something that they struggle to be aware of.

Oh and my biggest gripe. When the fuck did the expectation for entertainers to be political activists come about? He’s a minecraft youtuber, he literally makes mod videos and roleplays in a block game for a living, what kind of real world experience does he have that would genuinely benefit the message being spread! Activism only works when people understand the root of the issue they’re fighting against, which Tommy will never be able to know because of how young he was when he got famous!

my ask box is open for things like this, dw :)

but yea, honestly i don't know where the bullshit about age meaning you can't make mistakes came from? like first, you're still a child until like 24 in my opinion just because you have not seen enough of the world to actually judge it fully and completely (and that is alright! it is normal). and second, just, people make mistakes no matter how old they are. the beauty of being human is being able to learn and to live and to just be better than you were yesterday. humans are not perfect and they never will be and it's not fair to expect any to be!

but honestly, anon i could kiss you for this "Activism only works when people understand the root of the issue they’re fighting against", you are so incredibly right. activism should not be performative, it should be a genuine effort made by people from their own free will. and i guess twitter just isn't ready to have that conversation :/

[wroteclassicaly]

Dibs

A/N: Heeeeeeeey, loves! I’m back and pretty proud of this one! It’s a two part story, this obviously being the first part. Smut will be in the next one. I’ve wanted to write this idea since I came up with it the night of the season premiere. 

Reader is plus size in this one. She is also Chef Bertie’s daughter. There’s some major self-esteem issues and some self-bashing in this one, so be warned. I hope ya’ll enjoy! Lemme know what you think? :) 

P.S. I’ve changed a few things around to fit the reader in. Dialogue, mostly. It’s not that much of a change though, so don’t worry. 

Also, I can’t seem to get my taglist to work right, so I don’t tag anyone. I’m sorry. :(

Pairing: Xavier Plympton x Female reader

Word count: 2,691

Warnings: Explicit language, references to smut and virginity, self-esteem issues, poor body image issues

Looking forward to something during the summer months wasn't usually your forte, but this season seemed to be taking drastic approaching turns already. You'd been coerced into coming help your mom work the kitchen of Camp Redwood. Massacres and legends galore, bugs and snakes touring your housing. Sounded so fun to you. Your mom didn't want to leave you at your home alone, so you hesitantly agreed to get away from the dangers in Los Angeles and help out at the camp with her.

The drive up you imagined all sorts of various and vile scenarios. Woods and stories caught your imagination and refused to leave without a searing tongue lashed haunting. Your mom had assured you things would be okay this time around, that she wouldn't let anything happen to you, but it still felt so unsettling to be surrounded by nothing but dirt and trees and a large body of midnight fresh water. For your mom, however, you opted for the positive side of things, and sucked it up. You met with the eccentric and eerie Margaret, hovering closely to any exits you could think about, then escaped to the cabin you would be sharing with your mother to put your things away.

Margaret had informed you and your mom that a group of counselor volunteers would be arriving in the afternoon, leaving your stomach to tumble into the anxiety founded pits it always was. You hated much social interaction, even living in one of the world's largest cities. You avoided leisure activities and parties that were too high octane. You cared only about the peace and quiet, a few close friends, your books, and your music. You were grateful you had been permitted to bring along some albums and your record player, because without it, you could not function.

Setting out your music, you had tasked yourself out to sweep and mop the dining hall and kitchen. Covered in sweat and grime, hair pulled back into a messy mopped bun, the entire area became brand new once more. So much so that you had to stand and admire, the enriching draped melodies from Stevie Wonder casting a serene, echoing production to highlight your hard work. You hadn't noticed until Margaret jabbed a nail into your tank top clad shoulder, causing you to nearly deck her in the face with your broom handle. She raised a manicured brow, annoyance perched on her poker faced features, asking you to come meet the newest additions to the staff, as they would be arriving soon and you still had to bring food into the kitchen pantry.

Reluctantly, you followed your camp leader out into your new life for the next few months.

~*~

Present day: The First Night

Your insides feel as if they have all been twisted together like licorice, coolness spreading through your veins, erecting goosebumps all across your flesh. You self-consciously grip your noticeable stomach, already prepared for an array of flashy and skimpy clothed girls to accompany muscular, tight fitted guys. You don't fit in. Not being more than overweight, but what doctors seemed to call obese, with a swell to your face and the rest of you in places all around your thick form. In this day and age, not many girls your size are praised or celebrated in music and on television.

Sure, there were a few, but the movies you have seen are the overweight girl being an extra, a classmate, the bestfriend, the loner, the reject, or the propping joke. Fat is funny in LA, you aren't stupid. And no matter how far you run from it, you'd have to face scrutiny, even here. Your thinking is pregnant with triplets on this one, as you don't even bat a blink walking out with the Carrie White's mother - Margaret White -esque Camp owner, to meet everyone. Worn sneakers and boots from different brand names dusted in California soil is what you see before meeting the eyes of a very petite brunette.

That's the first counselor that smacks your self-esteem straight into the pits of hell. And the blonde girl near her in the colorful and tight outfit? Yeah, you want to find a hole and dig it twelve feet under. Six feet for your humiliation, adding on an additional six for your fat ass body. You want to run, but, yeah, right.

If you don't speak then you will look stupid, more so than you do now, covered in perspiration and dirt smudges. Margaret makes an introduction that collides right into you stepping behind your mom, getting an eyeful of the two handsome guys with the girls, reaching for a crate of eggs, attempting to look busy as to bay the awkward pause. Everyone says a few brisk words of greeting, those male counselors snickering. Why did you come here? The risks back home are far more tempting right about now.

Your nose catches the scent first, the sound of the person's shoes hitting ground second. Clad in this overly musky scent that seems to glide itself across the air, a rapturous, creamy silk-like voice hits the atmosphere and flips you head over ass.

"Dibs."

Your mom is snapping back with her wit, shoving her crate into his hands and moving away from his speechless face to leave you visible. Standing still, your box seemingly heavy, body light, you can't but help yourself to a heaping serving of observation. His pants are tan, or white, belt tightly securing those defined hips, his sneakers stretched over long feet (don't they say long feet mean... okay then, holy fuck), and sea-foam green muscle tank that leaves nothing to the imagination, except how much leverage you'd have to straddle his chest...

"And this is Y/N. She's joining us with her mother, whom is Chef Bertie. She won't be bunking with the ladies, however. But I still expect of all you to get along and make her feel apart of things, as she will also be partaking in counselor duties for the summer." Margaret's voice interjects, right smack into your looking into this guy's angelically crafted face.

You can't see what color his eyes are over his designer frames, just blue hued glimpses reflected off California sunshine. His plump lips are wet with amusement and surprise at your reveal, jaw sharp and alert, so arching and shaped it can cut through glass. There's a small cross dangling from his left ear, his hair is frosted at the top. He looks like some guitarist that has actual angel wings. His arms are steady, hands big.

You can swear there's a saxophone player somewhere playing a soundtrack for this very moment. You kind of, no, record SCRATCH that, you definitely need to find a seat somewhere and pour a glass of ice water over your head. For a fleeting moment you think you might need to attempt Olympic running towards the infirmary, cause this is some sort of General Hospital soap opera scene. You can't stop yourself from how you do react though. Biting your upper lip, eyes dashing mad all across his body, you're engulfed in more than the summer California heat.

You see the metal of his silver cross earring catch the light, and you know that even God himself can't help you now. Looking at this man in the blue shirt, you feel as if you've committed a lifetime of the most blood deep sins. You feel the need to ask Margaret to save you in the lake, some prayer needing to happen before you feel anymore guilt for objectifying this stranger. What feels like never-ending hours is merely a minute at most, making you look even more awkward and ignorant. Margaret does save you this time, introducing each counselor, the sensual blue eyed boy called Xavier Plympton, to your amusement, then with a seemingly arrogant grin on her peach painted lips, demands you take Xavier and the other two attractive male counselors - Ray and Chet, to finish carrying the crates of fruit and eggs to the kitchen pantry.

A dying 'hi' towards the friendly faces of the group is all you muster, rolling a shoulder back to the truck for the boys to take the hint. Xavier already has his share from what your mom gave him, so it's quick work for the other two. You don't talk, don't look at any of them on the way into the large dining area and back into the kitchen where your mom is hard at work. All the guys pile beside you, so you figure that now is the time to find your damn voice box and activate its fucking switch.

"You can just leave the stuff here, guys. Some of the other staff is in charge of stocking it anyways. They're real particular on everything, you know? We appreciate your help!" You ramble on, eyes widening when you spot Xavier - shades now clipped to his collar - smirking at you, pearly whites gleaming tauntingly.

Everyone, yourself included, all discard your food onto the chipped wooden counter. You fold your hands into fists on its hard surface, knuckles pressing together, lips pinched tight, feeling this tickle attack you from the tips of your toes and back, leaving you absolutely parched and winded both.

"So you're the Chef's daughter, huh?" Ray is the first to speak to you.

You turn to his direction to see him leaning a few feet beside you, propped against the end of the countertop by his elbow. His smile is genuine, calm, excited even.

He must really have wanted to be here this summer.

"Yeah." Is your proud response. Your mom is a hard worker with a zero tolerance policy for bullshit or dumbasses, so you're very proud to call yourself her child.

"Kind of a given you'd be here with her, right? That's cool. Most kids wouldn't volunteer their time to help their Mama at some sweaty ass camp in the middle of nowhere. You even gettin' anything in return from this?" Ray questions again.

Your body warms a little, not used to this duration of a conversation, let alone by someone this cute, this cool, who seems nice enough. You find yourself softening towards his presence, friendly and open in your answers.

"She'll share whatever she makes with me, so it's a win win. I have to clean the camp, so I'll also pull in my own money, then we put it all together. Living in LA is fucking expensive."

"Wait-" Chet cuts in. "You still live with your mom? Aren't you in your twenties or some shit? Don't you have any plans back home?"

Yup, there it is.

You were expecting some sort of snide commentary from at least someone in this group. You're unsure how to answer. It's not that your lifestyle is something you're ashamed of, it's just that you're beyond sick and tired at the ridicule it brings. Your mood is deflated, head bowing a little at Chet's laughter. Maybe it's not malicious, but to you, it isn't funny either.

"At least she didn't blow a chunk of cash on condoms and cheap ass cologne to impress Brooke. No one likes a cocky counselor, Chet." Sounds to your left.

Ray snorts into his hand, easing back at Xavier's biting remark. Your jaw becomes unhinged with a loud giggle that makes Xavier lick his tongue across the top edge of his teeth. He's super focused on you, sharing this knowing that eases and unsettles you all at once. Ray and Chet begin a bicker at Chet's expense, Xavier continuing to watch you in a similar fashion as you were observing him earlier. The floor feels like lava under your feet, your legs jello.

"Better get back outside, kids. Boss lady will be getting impatient." Your mom's helper speaks to you from the kitchen.

You give him a nod, trance broken. Moving one foot in front of the other is hard, but you get it right, breezing past Xavier and the rest, right back into the summer heat wave.

~*~

After the conversation your mom directed over her history with this Camp and her current decision to return, Margaret invited you to tour the grounds again with everyone else after formal introductions were completed. You weren't going to disagree, not with the possibility of sneaking looks in Xavier's way, hearing the things that came from his perfect mouth. You're fucking sickening, like some dingbat ditz on a sugar high that's having an affair with lust. The whole tour was boring and subpar, but worth it to see Xavier in action. Margaret stops everyone outside the cabin with, in your opinion, the finest views, to preach her rules onto everyone.

You're cringing, already choking on heaps of unshed laughter and snorts. Everyone but Brooke seems to be amused. Brooke seems the most like you, so it's a comfort. Xavier has his debate locked and gone, metaphoric smoke trailing behind of his tongue, following his words like a steaming mug of honey-hot tea. After his fist bump with Ray he makes sure to give a nodding little grin your way.

A bashful smile colors your mouth.

"Y/N is true to her pure body, to herself, to the Lord. She hasn't polluted it with the perversions of today, have you, sweetheart?" Margaret's voice is that bucket of ice water you could've used earlier.

You have to grab onto the other side of the doorway to keep it together, your heartbeat in your throat. How in the fuck does she know what you do, or for that damned matter, if you've done anyone before? The entirety of everyone's attention is on you now. Your eyes are sharp on Margaret's, her joy apparent. You see right through her bullshit.

She can read people, and she's just used that to her very public advantage.

Whatever. Fuck her.

"I don't know how you’d know about my personal life, or why it matters towards the situation of a damned summer camp, Miss Booth." You snap, cheeks hot with anger, neck flushed with adrenaline. 

Her head twitches as if she's some robotic experiment in a lab, but she catches herself, a plastered on smile melting back into place. "Damned is the farthest thing from the grounds on which this Camp sits, Y/N. And as for your earlier inquiry? I have known your mother for half of my adult life, so that means I also know you."

You're in place, still stunned. How does knowing your mom have anything to do with Margaret knowing you're a virgin? It's not something your mom would broadcast to anyone. Luckily, it's a dropped topic. You're given looks you expect, especially by Chet and Montana. Ray and Brooke, who stops to turn around and give a compassionate smile, are the more sympathetic and understanding.

That leaves... him. You're petrified to turn and see his cliché reaction. He doesn't say anything, not at first, only moving past you. But when stops, a partial pivot, there's an almost relieved expression on his face. The breeze picks up a little, making you brush a lock of escaped hair from your messy style.

The grass and dirt crunches under his weight as he approaches you, stopping a decent distance. You can't breathe, can't comprehend anything out of this shared airspace. The wind has the little cross swaying against his lobe, his lips are plump, the blue in his eyes darkening to the shadows of the summer shade. There's rain on the air. It's going to rain tonight.

"You know I teach at an exercise studio in Los Angeles, Y/N? I'm good at helping people learn."

So he's baiting me to come to his gym with my fat body? Prolong the shame?

You want to further scold yourself for thinking he'd be anything but a shallow Hollywood hottie. Typical.

Before the tears even make themselves form, Xavier is moving closer. You don't stop him, don't take the out his slow and respectful pace is giving you. He's tilting in a little more so that wisp of frosted hair brushes your nose, his breath warm and minty.

"A virgin, huh? I guess it works out that I'm a teacher."

[ascottywrites]

The Sterek List --Heads

I have a guilty pleasure in enjoying Sterek (Heads) and Steter (Tails) fanfiction, if you could not tell by the last post, it's crazy outta control like woah. I hope you enjoy this list of fics that make my day while keeping me up during all hours of the night and tossing my free daylight moments down a swirling time vortex.

 ...don't be like me. It's probably for the best.

           --Sterek a.k.a Stiles Stilinski/ Derek Hale--

  *a.k.a the inappropriate light of my life 

Move A Mountain by ZainClaw (Complete: 9/9| 69,008) --Sterek/ --Biker!Derek 

Stiles goes camping with his friends in New Mexico after graduation where they befriend a biker gang led by Derek: a guy whom Stiles can’t decide if he will be either relieved or devastated to never see again once their week is up.

Racing With The Wind by lowlifetheory (Complete: 3/3| 26,478) --Sterek/ --Biker!Derek

'Sure thing Scott, I'll give him a ride,' Derek practically leered. Stiles faltered, the sudden image of Derek pinning him down, his muscular torso rippling with movement. Derek's smile spread into a smirk as Stiles got closer.

'I'm not really comfortable with this particular mode of transport.' Stiles said clutching the helmet. He wondered what it was made of, how secure it was, would it save his life if he fell off?

'Don’t worry, I know how to handle her,' Derek said resting a warm palm on Stiles's shoulder, fingers squeezing slightly as he guided Stiles closer to the massive hulking black bike.

'I should hope so,' Stiles muttered glaring at the motorbike.

The Feeling That I’m Under by wearing_tearing (Complete: 20/20| 289,584) -- Sterek/ --Biker!Derek Bunnysuit/Paramedic!Stiles

Stiles is a paramedic and Derek gets into a bike accident. It’s kind of love at first sight.

Part of the Pack by JusteAmusant (Complete: 7/7| 13,035) --Sterek 

Season one of Teen Wolf, seen through Sterek-colored glasses. Canon Divergence after season 1 idk there's slow burn Sterek and a puppy, and way more Derek sneaking in through Stiles' window

“He could have shifted in front of them,” Derek hisses. “That means they find out about him, and in turn find out about me.” He pauses. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a washing machine, what the hell does it look like? It’s a puppy.”

In which Derek is a struggling Alpha, but still the Pack Dad, and oh god, does that mean Stiles is the pack mom?

(There's) Sulphur in Our Blood by WonderWolf (wip: 18/20| 178,650) --Sterek 

"Harris put you on a recon mission with Derek. You. Alone with Derek. On a mission. Together,” Scott says, slowly. “Does Harris want you dead?”

“I believe so," Stiles says gravely.

(Secret Agent AU where Derek blames Stiles for his sister’s death and Stiles is pretty sure that Derek’s going to murder him. As if that weren’t enough to deal with, Stiles’ familiar keeps having public breakdowns. Oh, and there’s a mole in the agency, so there’s that too).

Prince Among Wolves by Rawren (Deshonanana) (Complete: 20/20| 101,000) --Sterek 

Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable.

Pretty Human Virgin Boy Comes to the Pond- Feed Him All the Best Heads by Delta_Immortal (Complete: 8/8| 49,771) --Sterek/ --Dark!Derek 

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to go into the woods, but little did he know his actions would cause the death of everyone around him. Running from the thing that killed Danny, Scott and Stiles stumble upon a pond, which happens to hold a strange man named Derek who floats around in the middle of it. Derek assures them they're safe now.

What appears to be salvation is nothing more than the start of the death of everyone Stiles cares about. The being known as Derek haunts him at every turn, unsatisfied until Stiles succumbs to Derek's whims. Stiles isn't sure if that involves sexing him or eating him, and he really doesn't want to find out.

*This had me like Holy Crap

It Was a Wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (Complete: 2/2| 80,119) --Sterek

What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?” Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping. Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death. “Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least. “Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?” “Yes.” “Why?” “How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

*Looking for that Stiles whump? 

I'll Be With You Through The Dark by the_misfortune_teller (Complete: 61/61| 138,101) --Sterek

"Me and Scott talk about everything, about all my poor decisions.” “So I’m a poor decision?” “Probably, yes. Considering how you rudely threw me out of your apartment the other day after convincing me to kiss you and admit that I like you." ~ Set post Season 2 finale. Stiles is having a rough time at home and finds himself going to Derek for help in Scott's absence. He doesn't expect for Derek to end up turning to him for support, leading to something more than just friendship between them. Slow, slow, fluffy slow build!

*Based on the spoilers that just keep on coming, this is very likely to be canon divergent for s3!*

I Think the Problem Here is There's Nothing Wrong by wait_for_it (Complete: 1/1| 5,156) --Sterek 

"Stiles wasn’t really sure what was going on, but if he had to guess, he’d say Derek Hale was losing his touch. The amount of times he’d been called out with the guy, presumably to stake out some new supernatural baddie only to have it be a false alarm, was starting to inch into the double digits."

In which Stiles and Derek are dating and everyone knows it. Except Stiles.

The One You Choose by Livinginfictions (Complete: 7/7| 13,440) --Sterek 

Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.

How I Long For Yesterday by sweetbutterbliss (Complete: 1/1| 6,017) --Sterek

Stiles blinks, his throat going dry, and he moves his thumb without thinking - liking the post. He feels a surge of petty satisfaction. At least the fucker will know he knows now. He stands up, his body feeling too heavy, and he blows out the already guttering candles. He lets out a sob of frustration when the last one won't fucking blow out. But he sucks it back in and bites down on his tongue, using his thumb and forefinger instead.

He throws himself into their empty bed without undressing. He lies there repeating the words 'Derek blew me off for Isaac' over and over. He tells himself to shut up while rearranging his pillow violently, but he goes to sleep with the refrain continuing its painful loop.

And You Say You're Alone by taelynhawker (Complete: 1/1| 30,314) --Sterek

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

Can't Take the Heat? by Ilovesocks_24 (Complete: 15/15| 55,425) --Sterek/ --Chef!Stiles Chef!Derek 

Hi, I’m Stiles, and what I have for you today is…”

“Stop, just stop.” Grumpy Eyebrows interrupted. “That is honestly the worst looking Pasta Primavera I have ever seen. I don’t even want to eat it, it looks so bad.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. No one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara without even trying it. And no one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara after they tried it either. “It’s actually a Creamy Bacon Carbonara, asshole,” Stiles snapped. “And for the record, it’s supposed to look like that.”

Or the one where Stiles is a new sous chef at Full Moon Steakhouse and Derek is the Gordon Ramsay of all head chefs. So of course they fall in love.

*This is one of my favorites

Love Runs Wild by DevilDoll for neptunepirate (Complete: 1/1| 9,494) --Sterek/ Neckz 'n' Throats

"You've got a hickey on the back of your neck!" A Neckz 'n Throats story.

If I Could Trade Mistakes For Sheep, Count Me Away Before You Sleep by alisaj (Complete: 1/1| 33,383) --Sterek

"Thing is, Stiles," Derek says, his voice hard and unfaltering. "I didn't sign up for you. You just hung around until we got used to you being here."

That stings. He hadn't realised how Derek feels about him. They've been getting on quite well, teaming up on little missions and bantering back and forth without malice. Stiles sometimes lets Derek crash in his room after a big fight, trying not to let on how intriguing he finds the werewolf.

"Well now we can get used to you not being here. You're a liability, Stilinski. You can't protect yourself and we always end up having to help you when we've got more important things to do. You're out of the pack."

or

The one where Derek is a terrible Alpha and Stiles ends up walking into a big pile of shit.

Teach Me How Love Goes by RoseByAnyOtherName17 (Complete: 1/1| 9,482) --Sterek 

Derek asks Stiles to have sex with him. Stiles says no, because he doesn't want to get his heart broken again. Somehow it happens anyways, but really, it's his own fault. He's the one who fell in love with Derek against despite knowing how bad an idea it was.

a taste for the forbidden by demonicweirdo (Complete: 1/1| 5,982) --Sterek 

Stiles narrows his eyes. “I haven’t been doing anything to you.”

“Bullshit,” Derek snaps.

The air in the room grows colder. “I swear it. The only magic I’ve used around you is to make your crops grow!” Stiles takes a step away. “How could you think that I would… You know what? Screw you, buddy. I’m sick of walking in circles around you.” His words are sharp and annoyed, and his shoulders are tense, as though he’s preparing for a fight. “You feel something for me? Wow, it must be sorcery! Because - what? I’m not good enough for your feelings, Derek?” he snarls.

Hello, Heartbreaker by astoryaboutwar (Complete: 1/1| 18,472) --Sterek

It’s a popular joke among Alphas: fuck an Omega, get heartbreak on your hands. Omegas are fragile little emotional things, needy and whiny. Stiles refuses to become that, or to believe that he’s anything like that.

Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident. (Also - everyone's a werewolf, and everyone's alive.)

Bruises and Bitemarks by orphan_account (Complete: 27/27| 121,566) --Sterek 

Biologically, Stiles is weak. When he presented as an omega, he knew that to be the truth but that never stopped him from running his mouth as a defense mechanism. However, it could only save him so many times before he ended up pissing off the wrong person. After he's attacked in the parking lot outside of school, Stiles realizes he can no longer protect himself with just pure wit and sarcasm. When the attack lands him in the hospital, his dad forces him to pick between two options, report the alphas who attacked him or join a kickboxing gym run by omega rights activist and alpha, Derek Hale, a man Stiles has been in love with for many years. *Now includes an extended chapter featuring Nate/Jupiter*

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus_22 (Complete: 13/13| 135,577) --Sterek 

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible. Or the one where Derek gets attacked by hunters, ends up with amnesia and forgets Stiles is his mate

[chillahead-bridge]

grave mistakes

inspired by @arrival-layne‘s good good angst art for jim, a mini-au about a what-if scenario about the grave sand having some... side effects on humans. (AO3 version)

TWs: body-horror, mouth horror, blood, description of injuries and violence. enjoy and stay safe!

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

Grave sand burns.

It’s bare seconds, passing in a painful flash- but Jim feels the grit scrape against his sinuses, leaving his airways raw as he hacks, lungs struggling to supply him air. And then it’s over, just like that, and a surge of energy washes over him. Like stepping into the cold depths of a pool, diving deep downwards.

“How do you feel?” Strickler asks him, watching him with sharp eyes.

“Angrier,” Jim replies, voice rough. He feels himself smile. The energy- the emotion- it’s pulsing through his veins. It’s incredible. It’s intoxicating.

“Good,” Strickler says, bursting into brilliant green arcs of light as his body twists and changes, horns curving over his skull as he raises his head. “Use that anger,” he encourages with a grin of deadly fangs.

Jim can feel himself shivering, deep inside, at the blatant challenge. An invitation to fight. The Amulet responds to his silent call- wrapping him in its armor and power, forming Daylight in his grip. Another flash of light and Jim glances over his shoulder, seeing Nomura stalk predatorily towards him with her blades.

Two highly skilled opponents. Both of whom have fought him to a standstill before. Jim feels no fear. He snarls right back at the changelings, reveling in the way he feels. He’s stronger, he’s faster, his heart races and his throat aches, and he meets his mentors’ attacks with zero hesitation.

It’s a blur, for a few euphoric moments, where there’s nothing but Jim, his weapon, and the changelings he’s beating back. Jim growls, shouts wordlessly- he kicks the larger, heavier changelings across the floor more than once, keeping up and surpassing them as they clash. Strickler has no close-range weapon, he falls back all too quickly. Nomura is brutal and unyielding, but she doesn’t expect the strength Jim has now. Her swords clatter against stone, her skull impacts against the wall he shoves her into, her claws shriek over the metal of his shield and Jim presses harder-

The interruption that comes will be something he’s grateful for, later. In the moment, however, Jim steps back from Nomura and turns to his first and dearest mentor, and all he sees is someone interfering with his victory.

Jim points his blade at Blinky. He takes swings at him, though they’re not truly meant to harm. Just intimidate. His words come between coughs, the energy in his body beginning to hum fiercely, urging him to fight more, to give it outlet-

“Master Jim, look at me,” Blinky says, holding him carefully but firmly. Jim tries to pull away, but the troll keeps talking, keeps him close and still. The words that come are warm, soothing, “-for your human heart,” and it pulls him back up from the depths.

Jim steps back, coughing harder as the corrosive enhancer in his body shifts. The Amulet’s power recedes, the armor vanishing; releasing him from the bloodthirst. He’s sickened, as his head clears, by the fact that he’d fallen so deeply into that desire.

“I’m- sorry,” Jim rasps, coughing still, “I- I lost myself.” He tries to say thank you, but the coughing won’t stop and he bends, pounding a fist against his chest.

Blinky turns on Strickler, launching into an angry conversation with him. Their clash of mentalities grows distant as Jim keeps coughing. His ears are starting to ring. His throat aches.

“Jim?” Nomura’s voice asks, a hand touching his back. Jim tries to respond but can’t get a single word out. He’s beginning to hyperventilate, but he can’t stop, coughing as the grave sand does something- else. Before it’d been flowing through him, circulating the unnatural aggression and energy. Now it’s- it feels like it’s seeping into something deeper, like it’s forcing itself into the rest of his body-

A lightning strike of agony abruptly explodes in his chest. Jim can’t even cry out, robbed of air.

“Jim!” shouts Blinky, but Jim can’t raise his head and look to him. The pain radiating from his ribcage is climbing, spreading outwards.

His fingers, his jaw, his eyes- Jim only hears the thundering of his own heart as he clutches at his mouth, deaf to whatever is happening around him. Oh god, the pressure is building, pushing to escape, make it stop, he’ll do anything, just make it STOP-

Something gives, a sweet relief of pressure for a split second, and then iron liquid fills his mouth and a new kind of throbbing pain takes the other’s place. Jim doubles over completely and heaves, red and spit splattering the stone. Jim coughs and shudders, tears blurring his vision as he gasps raggedly.

Little white pearls fall into the slurry, one by one.

Those are teeth, Jim thinks outside the pain, just as his eyes roll back and he passes out.

 -/-

 “For what it’s worth, young Atlas… we were unaware these particular side effects could occur.”

Jim doesn’t look at Strickler or Nomura. He keeps his eyes fixed on a corner of the room, focused on the rough-hewn walls of it.

“We’re already looking into a way to reverse it,” Nomura adds in a subdued tone. Jim still doesn’t answer, or acknowledge their presence.

“I swear it,” Strickler says, low and sad, “we will fix this for you, and I am deeply, deeply sorry for allowing this- to happen, to you.”

Jim curls his fists into the blanket covering his legs.

“Leave,” he manages to say, throat hoarse. “W- we’ll talk. Later. But for now…”

“Of course,” Strickler says softly, and that’s the end of it. The two changelings walk out, drawing the curtain closed; leaving Jim to sit in Blinky and Arrrgh’s bedroom, wrapped in an overlarge blanket and shadows to hide within.

Gingerly, with a hesitant hand, Jim reaches to poke at his aching jawline. The claw that’d burst from under his nail throbs in time with the teeth he presses against.

Jim hasn’t looked in a mirror, but he knows. He’s already searched his face and body- he knows about the teeth, the claws, the point to his ears, the way his vision is perfectly suited to the dark room he’s in… He knows what it all means, what it all looks like.

He drops his hands to the blanket and twists them into fists again, hunching over his knees and shaking. Tears drop onto the fabric not for the first time today, an echo of his teeth falling out of his mouth.

The parallel forces him to unlock his clenched jaw and let out a wounded cry. His voice wavers and cracks, the internal damage done by the grave sand persisting still. Jim doesn’t spare a thought of concern that he might worsen the injuries; the noise pours out of him and he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to.

The curtain is suddenly yanked open and he hisses, flinching and covering his sensitive eyes. “Oh- shit, shit, I’m sorry Jimbo,” says a more than familiar voice, and the curtain is hastily closed again. Jim doesn’t even have time to blink the spots out of his vision before two sets of arms are thrown around him.

“Blinky told us what happened,” Claire rushes out, fingers already shifting to touch the ruined parts of him, searching, caressing- “Oh, Jim, how could they? Why- god- I’ll, I’ll strangle them both-”

“Should’ve never left you alone with them,” Toby says to the crook of Jim’s shoulder, squeezing his middle so tightly it hurts, but in a good way. “I should’ve- we should’ve been there, maybe then we’d’ve been able to steer you off this fucking- this horrible idea, what were you thinking?”

“I- I just-” Jim stutters, trying to answer both of them. His hands hover, not quite touching them, keeping the claws away from their human skin. “I need to get stronger,” he says, the mantra he’s been repeating for what feels like ages now. “They were just helping me, I asked them to, and- I’m the one who, who let Strickler- it’s my own fault.”

“Bullshit,” Claire curses, eyes blazing. “They did this, they hurt you and I’m going to- to-”

“Drop them into the shadow dimension forever?” Toby suggests in a dark tone.

“Yes,” Claire hisses vindictively.

“Guys, no, we need them, they were just doing what I- what I asked them-” Jim breaks off as he loses his voice, biting his lip and slicing into the thin skin immediately. Right, he has fangs, small but sharp fangs that jut up over his lip in an overtly inhuman way, something nothing short of removing them can fix, and oh god how will he hide this from his mom? How is he supposed to hide his ears? His eyes?

“What am I gonna tell my mom?” Jim whispers harshly, and starts crying in earnest.

Claire makes a wordless noise of anger and sadness, carding her fingers through his hair and letting a few of her own tears slip free. A tissue is pressed gently to his bleeding lip, held in place by Toby as he looks at Jim, brushing away his tears while ignoring the ones on his own face.

Jim wants to curl up and hide himself, cover up the pieces of himself he tainted, cheating for power. But he’s held between his two closest confidants and he can’t bring himself to pull away, instead slumping into the hold, burrowing into their comfort and care and clinging to that safety.

 -/-

 Sometime later: Claire holds his hand without fear of the claws that’ve grown there; Toby pokes the tips of his ears and jokes about Lord of the Rings. They beam at him pointedly until Jim will nervously smile back, not letting him sink further into his mire of self-loathing.

The adults shuffle back and forth behind the curtained entrance, unsubtly checking on the three of them. Sooner than later, they’ll be pulled out of the safely shadowed nest they’re huddling in. But not yet, as stated firmly by Claire when Blinky comes to ask after them.

Jim huffs, embarrassed by the fuss everyone is making over him, pressing his face into the softness of Toby’s sweater vest to hide his flush. Claire’s lithe arms wind around his waist and hold him like wrought iron, refusing to let him slip away even a little. Toby’s arms are warmer, stronger, wrapping around both of them best he can and helping their trio lower themselves gently onto the wide pillows that make up the bed.

Jim’s future has become even more uncertain, another trial added to his seemingly endless path to their ultimate goal. But for a moment between the three of them, tangled up and shielding themselves from that uncertain future, he can breathe easy.

[artemismoon12writes]

Jazzy Chazzy and the Beat Off Boys 1

Daltonfic Big Bang 2020: Week 1, Day 7; NSFW Wildcard  

“Bullshit.” Charlie countered. “I’m sure there are Jazz bands that have a French horn. Besides, I dropped Music this year so when else am I ever going to play saxophone?” 

 “Why can’t we be the house band?” Charlie asked, the first day he and Justin were allowed into the Seniors Lounge. Or rather, the first day they were given the email and directions to the real Seniors lounge.

“Because I play French Horn, and that’s not a jazz instrument.” Justin said, sipping on his drink as if it was actually for the taste; rather than enjoying the ridiculous, prohibition style speakeasy that the previous Seniors of Dalton and Dobry had set up right under the noses of administration.

“Bullshit.” Charlie countered. “I’m sure there are Jazz bands that have a French horn. Besides, I dropped Music this year so when else am I ever going to play saxophone?”

“I don’t know, you can just play ‘Careless Whisper’ to yourself alone in your room?” Justin joked, earning him a shove to the side.

“Hey I’m serious, it could be fun.”

“I don’t know mate, it could also go badly. Who else would even join? We’d need a few more people, unless you want to just play with the group Cobb hired from last year?” Justin asked, gesturing to the small four piece on the raised platform across the room.

The lounge was small, and the way it was on a Friday night between Sydney trying to host a poker tournament, or Kerry Jeffords trying to get Roland to swing dance with her, it got crowded. That didn’t stop them from hiring a live jazz band to make the prohibition style décor more authentic.

Hope appeared by Charlie’s elbow, a drink in both hands for herself and Sydney. “I think that’d be a great idea. You could get Kyle from Stuart, he’s a wonderful drummer. He did the drumline in Cadets, Sydney told me.”

“He’s a Stuart though.” Charlie complained. “I don’t want to play with a Stuart.”

“You’ll play nice with a Hanover though.” She pointed out.

“Hanover’s Switzerland in their dick measuring contest though, we’re neutral.” Justin smiled.

Hope jokingly rolled her eyes, “are dicks all you boys ever care about?”

“Seriously, I don’t want to do Jazz with a Stuart.”

Justin sighed, “How about I get Roland and Spencer in on it? Roland plays guitar but maybe we could ask him to do bass? And Spencer knows enough piano to be useful. There, now you’re just playing with Hanovers and one other guy.”

Hope giggled. “If you do get this figured out, let me know. We had to scrap a cover of ‘Feeling Good’ for the Terpsichores, but I’d love to use it somewhere else.”

Charlie paused, considered what could be, and prompted agreed. Justin shook his head and downed the rest of his drink, as Hope sauntered away with a smile.

“Chaz, you’re really sad. She’s got a girlfriend.” He said, spying Sydney kissing Hope’s cheek as she sat down next to her across the room.

“I know, I know. And like, I still think she’s- wow- but, I’m getting over it I swear. But like, have you ever heard ‘Feeling Good’? It’s hot.” He leant his chin on his hand. “I’d be down even if it was the only song she ever did with us.”

“So there is an ‘us’ now? What about not wanting to work with a Stuart? Who isn’t even guaranteed by the way?” Justin asked.

“Why not?”

“If you want to be in a Jazz band hard enough to work through dealing with Stuarts, I’ll join.” Justin relented.

“I love you- this is great!”

Justin refilled his tumbler, trying not to cut his tongue with how hard he was biting it and the bitter words he wanted to say. “Yeah, love you too mate.”

---

Roland was easy to convince to get onto a bass; he’d always wanted to try a jazz band after playing classical for so long in music class. A quick electric pedal modified the sound to an upright bass, and they were off with that. Spencer’s ragtime was rusty, but serviceable enough for the endeavour. And overall, Kyle from Stuart wasn’t even that concerned about working with a Windsor, but rather if that Hope Clayton would really be singing for them. Between the group of young, single lads, Justin was confused to find a common unitor of adoration for the soft blond.

Well, he only had to see her step up to their vintage mic, her hair done up with a deep red dress, next Friday to see why.

“Birds in the sky, you know how I feel,” Hope sang to Sydney at first, before turning to the rest of the Seniors who had gathered there that Friday night. The Seniors were spellbound.

Justin let out a breath. Fitting as he was playing a brass instrument, but Charlie raised his eyebrows next to Justin. Okay, he’d eat any concerns he had about having Hope sing for them. This might be a little hot.

Hope travelled around the small room, swatting away anyone reaching out, but doing so with a wink. She smirked and drawled her way through the words, sitting on the end of Spencer’s piano bench as she drew the words out in her lower register.

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life.” Her eyes met Justin’s, a sly look before dismissing him. “And I’m feeling good.”

He could hear the stutter in Charlie’s saxophone and he felt annoyed he did so as well. Spencer and Roland managed to make it through, but the five of them, as well as the assembled were so entranced. He was glad there was a music stand in front of him. Hell, he didn’t even know demure Hope could channel this kind of a bombshell. Though, if anyone let it be known they were getting keyed up, Sydney would probably kill them right there and there. Murder was simply not on the agenda.

They played another few songs with Hope after that, but the energy remained palpable. Every coy look or wink Hope played up was just another reminder it was an act, but goddamn was it a convincing one. No wonder Charlie’d had a crush on her for ages. Maybe he should keep focusing on Hope; after all, one unattainable crush wasn’t any worse than another? Was it?

---

“What the hell was that?” Kyle asked, sitting back in the small backroom they’d commandeered for practising and storing the instruments. The five of them had brought the last of the whiskey with them, passing it around and ostensibly putting the drums away. It’d just devolved into trying to process the tension.

“I didn’t know Clayton could sing like that.” Roland said, passing the bottle and wiping his mouth. “I mean I knew she had pipes but I wasn’t expecting a Jessica Rabbit 2.0.”

“Hey, knock it off, that’s my sister’s girlfriend you’re talking about.” Spencer said without much gusto as he’d already said he’d had a crush on Hope before his sister did.

Roland nudged his fellow Hanover in the head with his foot, sprawled across the couch without a care. “I am not objectifying her. I’m just saying, holy hell, that is a jazz lady.”

“I mean, isn’t that objectification?” Justin asked.

“It’s her voice though.” Roland sighed in contentment.

“Is that what the group is called now? The Jazz Lady and her boys?” Kyle asked. He finished off the whiskey, grunting in annoyance. Justin just pulled out another bottle behind his French Horn case.

“It’s probably not a good idea unless you want everyone to fall in love with her.” Charlie pointed out.

Spencer frowned, “I forgot about your crush on her, tough luck Chaz.”

“I mean, I’m getting over it. This is just like, a good high point to go out on.” Charlie shrugged.

“Well, how about Charlie and the Boys?” Roland said, spreading his hands out in front of him. “No, Chazzy and the Jazzy Boys?”

Kyle snorted, “You’re not thinking hard enough. Jazzy Chazzy and the Beats Boys.”

“Like Beach Boys?” Spencer suggested.

“More like Beat off Boys. Cause damn Clayton has me wired.” Roland groaned.

“Ha Beat off.” Kyle said, more than a little drunk.

“Hey!” Justin cut in, before sharing a look with the others and… yeah. The noise of discontentment Roland made didn’t help.

“I mean, he’s not wrong.” Kyle said.

“I’d argue, but oh my god I think I’m going to explode.” Charlie admitted, “God, she’d kill me if she knew.”

“Technically her girlfriend would kill you. There’s no crime in thinking she’s hot though.” Spencer agreed. Justin reluctantly thirded, taking a deep swig from the second bottle he stole back from Kyle.

“I just,” Charlie sighed, “ugh fuck.”

“Yeah exactly!” Roland said, patting him on the shoulder, leaning into him with a smile. “One good lay and the mere sound of Clayton’s voice isn’t going to do a damn thing. It’s just been a while man.”

“Been a while is an understatement.” Spencer sighed. Poor Spencer, holding a torch for someone who wouldn’t even give you the time of day. At least he wasn’t pining from afar. Just, you know, like an idiot from close up.

“Yeah, you need to just get laid and move on.” Justin suggested, taking the bottle from Spencer. He leant in, taking a drink and passing it over to Charlie.

Charlie accepted, taking a drink. Roland still on his shoulder looking like he’d suddenly found his new favourite thing. “What, you offering?”

Justin might need to be more drunk for this.

Kyle snorted, the lower lines of the song bumbling out in his best Hope impression. “I’m feeling good.”

Charlie didn’t need to take the hint, his mouth on Justin’s within the end of the note. Justin didn’t want to lean into it, too sure he was hallucinating, but he couldn’t help himself. It went too far too quickly, and when he opened his eyes, Charlie was still watching his mouth. Roland was staring, slumped over Charlie’s side with a slack look of shock.

“I may not be gay, but that’s hot.” Roland said, a slow look of amazement spreading across his face.

“I don’t know, bi people exist?” Charlie said, looking Roland in the eye.

“Yeah we do.” Spencer said, quietly enough to be heard as they all suddenly seemed to realise at the same time how small the room is.

“Okay, it may just be the whiskey talking, but can I kiss you too?” Roland asked, intrigued and clingy.

Justin wasn’t sure if he felt disappointed, or excited when Charlie nodded. On the one hand, he wanted to be the only one with his hands on Charlie; on the other hand, if it got Charlie over Hope… and he couldn’t deny, the noises Roland was making, slotted up against Charlie. Fuck.

“Oh damn.” Kyle’s voice sounded, but it wasn’t really an objection. “I guess, this is the point we leave the room?”

“Or a, don’t leave the room and this might as well happen?” Spencer stared at Charlie and Roland, tentatively inching forward as much as he could without touching them. Roland grunted, Charlie’s hands on him.

Justin thought for a moment, he could be selfish, or he could let it go; he bit his lip. He could just reach out… but Spencer got there first, touching Roland’s shoulder and getting pulled in between the two. Justin looked over at their fifth, sitting on the armrest; “Hey, Kyle, you in or out mate?”

Kyle acted like a deer in the headlights. “I’m not gay though.”

Justin pointedly frowned. Beside him, Spencer groaned, Roland’s hands down his pants and Charlie’s mouth on his neck. He’d say it escalated quickly, but he’d be lying if he wasn’t getting into the sight.

Justin stood up, standing in front of Kyle. “In, or out? No pressure. But it might be a lot in a minute.”

“I- uh, in?” Kyle looked up at Justin, touching his chest apparently in spite of himself.

Behind them, Justin could hear a shucking of pants. Yeah. It was going to be a lot really quickly. He heard Charlie’s satisfied grunt, nearly jumping with how much he wanted to hear that noise again.

“In.” Kyle looked over, wide eyed and intrigued. “So fucking in.”

“So you’re good with…” Justin didn’t even have to ask before Kyle’d fisted his hands into Justin’s shirt and pulled him down for a rough kiss, needy and desperate. Justin stumbled the two steps backwards it took to fall back on the couch, a lapful of Kyle and an elbow on the other three.

Yeah. This was happening.

---

Somewhere in the distant future of an hour later; Spencer was resting against Roland’s bare legs, hair a mess and sticking up at awkward angles. Roland was absently petting Kyle’s hair, who was dozing, warm and content across Charlie and Justin’s laps; who were still winded and confused, but ultimately satisfied.

“Did we just?” Charlie asked, his mouth bruised and throat sore.

“Yeah.” Justin said hoarsely, looking at the opposite wall. He felt Kyle shift. Was this how his day had ended?

“That was good.” Charlie’s smile of disbelief was audible.

“Really good.”

The two of them shot a look to the other three, then to one another.

“I liked this.” Charlie bit his lip.

“Yeah. Me too.” Justin felt his heart clench.

“I might not be straight guys.” Roland said, cutting into it. “Because fuck. That was a fuck.”

“Good to know you liked it.” Spencer said, before hiding his face embarrassed between Roland’s leg and the couch cushion.

“First time my ass, you’ve done this before Willis.”

“I swear! I’ve only ever made out with guys.”

“Go big or go home.” Charlie commented.  

Justin smiled, “Yeah, Jazzy Chazzy, was that a home run you damn yankee?”  

Charlie pushed his shoulder. “Ok, you’re going to get it for that.”

“I already got it.”

“Oh you shitty redcoat! I swear to god!” Charlie nearly upset Kyle from their bare laps, trying to rise up and mock fight with his friend.

Justin felt that discomfort from earlier ebb away. At the end of the day, this was his friend. No matter how he felt otherwise.

“I’m the whore of Babylon, I don’t know how you all put up with me.” Roland moaned, smiling at the others.

“Fuck you.”

“You got it!”

“I swear to god…”  

---

Part 2: [Here]

[mingiswow]

Soulmate!au Series | Changkyun

Pairing: Changkyun x reader

Summary: Not everyone had the same soulmate mark and that made even harder for you to find yours, especially when there was no visible mark on your body. But a boring class could change things.

Genre: fluff - loads of it

Words: +1.5 k

a/n: So, it’s finally over! The last part of the Soulmate Series is finally up and I’m so proud I finished. Thank you all who read it. Hope you guys enjoy Kyun’s and love you 💖

You had seen everyone around you to fall in love, meet their soulmates, have names or words tattooed on their body, drawings adorning their skin, having a missing sense, so many ways to meet their soulmate, but yours wasn’t there. At least not visible.

The class was boring as you could think, your eyes barely kept open, the battery of your phone died and your friend missed the class. You had absolutely nothing to do and the video your teacher insisted on putting was even as boring as the man’s voice.

You grabbed the pen by your side and started to doodle on your notebook, but some freckles in your arm grabbed your attention, making you start drawing onto the skin, making little smiley faces, constellations, and doodles.

You kept doing that until the signal played, warning you and your classmates that the class was over. “Thank God” you thought when leaving the classroom, going straight to the small cafe-library near the uni so you could focus on your actual study, not that bullshit you were never going to use anyway.

The tables were empty due to the time, it was midday, but you weren’t hungry to get an actual lunch. You asked for your classic black coffee and sat on the table, spreading your books, notebooks, and pens, getting ready to study the effects of “screens” on kids' behavior.

When you stretched your arm to grab a pink pen that rolled away, you noticed that the drawings from before in your arms were gone and a simple phrase was marked in black.

Hey, soulmate

Your eyes blinked a few times before touching the skin, the color fading until was gone. You grabbed the pink pen in your hand and wrote.

Who are you?

You watched the words being sucked by your skin and couldn’t help but let a gasp out of your mouth. What was going on? You noticed letters starting to appear in your skin again. 

 I’m your soulmate. Everything we put on our skin appears on the other.

The words faded again but soon other ones appeared.

You should thank me for not doing the tattoo I wanted

You couldn’t help but chuckle and, somehow, you could feel them smiling to their arm. A feeling of warmth took your body, the idea of actually having a soulmate made your day happier and more exciting. How does this person looked like? Were they pretty? Tall? Short? Where they come from? You spent minutes thinking about it, not realizing when new words appeared in your forearm.

How’s my soulmate's name?

You smiled, liking the idea of the person calling you their soulmate, it was recomforting.

Y/N. How’s yours?

Changkyun. And I like the pink pen you’re using.

How do you know I’m using a pink pen?

The words faded and some green ones started to appear, the line thicker, almost like it was written with kids’ markers

Because the words appear in pink on my skin.

That’s so crazy and cool.

I know. I thought that I’d never meet you.

You blushed at his words. The idea of talking to him through your arms almost felt like talking through phone messages, the difference was you didn’t know how he looked like.

Me too. Why we never drew on our skins before? I never thought of that.

The laugh that left your mouth was loud and almost exaggerated but you were nervous, anxious with the whole situation.

My mom never allowed me because the ink was bad for the skin.

And you behaved?

Yes ???? And why didn't you draw on yours?

Never felt the need I guess, never thought of that

Fair enough

You two spent the whole afternoon speaking to each other, your study plans long gone with the first words that faded from your skin. Talking to Changkyun was comforting, warm and fun, he was a funny person and you guys clicked right away - which made you really happy because you always wondered what would happen if you and your soulmate didn’t match and actually hated each other. 

Wanna meet sometime soon?

The words appeared after you stopped talking about your favorite foods. The thump in your heart could be heard by the people in the tables by your side, which now were filled with mostly students and couples.

Yes. Tell me when and where

Are you free friday night? I know a Thai restaurant that is delicious and I think you’d love.

Ok. Friday night.

See you there at 8.

See you too, Kyunnie

Can’t wait to meet you for real

You giggled like a little girl and nodded, even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

Me too

Bye, soulmate

Bye, soulmate

You hugged your arm, almost feeling like you could hug him. Nothing in the world could describe the feeling you were having right then. The smile so big it couldn’t fit your face.

The days couldn’t pass slower, even with you constantly talking with Changkyun. You guys even joked about not having anything to talk about when you meet, but you two couldn’t help, the first thing that you’d do was give him good morning and the last one give him good night. It was like you two met each other for ages, even if it was for a couple of days.

When friday finally arrived, your stomach was aching from anxiety, your head dizzy from nervousness, legs shaking. You felt like you were about to have a meltdown.

It took you almost three hours to get ready, your mind spacing out too often thinking about Kyun and all the things you two talked about, how well you two got along. You were so happy your soulmate was someone like him, funny, smart, kind, sweet and so many things. But to say you were also very nervous to finally meet him face to face was almost a joke.

A tingling sensation appeared in your arm and you looked down just to see a cute smiley face drawn on it and soon disappear a few seconds after.

I’m at your door, babe.

Your heart skipped several beats when you read the sentence. 

You didn’t even reply to him, getting your purse and, literally, ran out of your apartment. There was no time for the elevator either, practically jumping down the stairs to get as faster as possible to the front door.

When your eyes met the man in front of you, nothing could describe the smile that grew on your lips and the heartwarming feeling that took over your body.

“Hi” his voice danced its way to your ears and you just wished you could hear him talk forever. His voice was deep, velvety, soothing, felt like a warm day of summer in the park.

Changkyun had the brightest smile on his lips, his teeth showing, his eyes shut close. His heart was pounding on his chest, nothing could describe what he was feeling, you were much more he expected.

“Hi” you finally spoke, taking him out of his daydream, and running to him, jumping into his arms, wrapping the man into a tight hug. “You don’t know long I’ve waited to do this” your voice sounded muffled by the skin of his neck, your face hidden in the crook of it, scenting his smell and keeping it in your memory.

“Me too, babe” his voice so close to your ears and the hot breath leaving his mouth and gently touching your neck made shivers ran down your whole body. “I couldn’t wait to meet you, to meet my soulmate” you finally left his neck and looked to his eyes, they were like constellations shining in his beautiful brown orbs. “I brought you something” Changkyun smiled and took a little red box out of his jacket, handing it to you.

“You didn’t have to” the rush of blood tinting your cheeks pink. “Thank you, Kyun” the man could swear he’d die when you called him by the nickname and he decided that his name leaving your lips was his favorite thing in the world.

You opened the box and found two little red rings, thin as a thread and shiny as stars. On top of them there was a smiley face.

“It means the red string of destiny with the first doodle you did in your arm” he explained to you, his hands nervously fidgeting behind his back. “I hope you like it” you looked back to the man. 

“I… I loved, Kyun. They’re gorgeous” you both smiled, genuine happiness. “Can you… Can you put it to me?” you shyly asked and he nodded, taking the ring from the box and gently slipping to your finger. Changkyun left a little kiss on top of it, making you giggle. You did the same to his one.

“You are mine now, forever” he said as he held your hand.

“And always” you smiled to him and did what you had been dreaming of doing, kissed him. The first of so many.

Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | I.M

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