#i actually really like how this turned out! more vibrant than i wanted but still good ❤️

[cat0901h3]

Goosebumps Books 1-10

Can't believe that it took me nearly two years to just do 10 covers for the books. Will be posting more Goosebumps in the future, along with other stuff.

Read more to know my personal opinions and critiques on my fanart for each book:

Welcome to Dead House: I wanted to make the house look alive like Monster House, so I gave it more human characteristics (ie: the people in the windows to form eyes, or the finger-like branches.) Also paid homage to a horror film by styling it after The Amityville Horror house.

The Benson children themselves look a bit depressed, that's because the first book is actually more scarier than the rest of the series, so they're a bit angsty.

Stay Out of the Basement: This one killed a lot of my green markers lol. I tried to make Dr. Brewer as menacing as possible while still showing that he is a father with the photos, There were going to be more plants reaching out, but I decided that the leaves hidden on him would be enough.

Though I have to admit my disappointment with the lighting. It still looks a bit too bright, and not dark enough. That's just my own critique.

Monster Blood: Honestly, pretty mixed about this one. While I'm proud of the bubbling ooze that looks like a skull, which is outlined by one of my colored pens. I'm not proud that everything else is so muted with brown. Almost all of Jacobus' works are vibrant and saturated, so it being dull in colors feels like a disservice to him.

Also, Andy's last name was made up by me, she apparently just doesn't have one. It's inspired by Stephen King. Btw, hope you love banana and strawberry dyed hair, you'll see more of it soon in future batches.

Say Cheese and Die!: One of my favorite books, and of course it gets the best fanart imo. The screaming skeleton form of Greg Banks with red bg in the polaroid, contrasting with the dark background is just super cool, coolest shit I've ever done. Though I might be biased, I really like skeletons. Like Curly.

I actually made concept art for a Say Cheese and Die! graphic novel, which includes drawings of the photos and Spidey! Let me know if you're curious.

The Curse of The Mummy's Tomb: Not much to this one honestly. Just a mummy casually busting down a wall filled with hieroglyphics. Though I will say, I was experimenting with shading with purple and blues like Jacobus. As you can see, didn't stick for long.

This is also the book that I discovered that if the protag doesn't have a last name, then there is an official one either in the Presents novels, the mobile app, comics or other.

Let's Get Invisible!: This was pretty tricky to draw. Drawing someone turning invisible maybe easy in Photoshop or Procreate, but this was traditional art. Sure Jacobus did it with airbrushes, but I all had were pens and markers. But I somehow managed to pull it off, which is insane that I even managed that in the first place.

Night of the Living Dummy: Ah, the infamous Pamela Vorhees book, where the main antagonist isn't the mascot, but instead some other puppet lol. I've seen a lot of fanart of Slappy, but never of Mr. Wood. So I wanted to do justice for Wood while still showcasing Slappy. While I am proud for how it mostly turned out, there are two things that bother me. 1. This is the night sky that is black, the rest are either blue or purple. 2. I forgot to add the lines that make the jaw on Mr. Wood, whoops.

Aside from that, I hope guys like that Misfits poster in the background and Kris's cool hair cut. The green was inspired by the comic adaption not 2015 Jacksepticeye.

The Girl Who Cried Monster: Please forgive me for the small thumbnail, I wasn't using a ruler at the time. The design for Mr. Mortman wasn't much of a challenge. I loosely based it off of the French rendition of the cover and gave him a large leech-like mouth.

In my headcannon, the teeth spin like a garbage disposal, making easy work of the turtles.

Welcome to Camp Nightmare: Another one of my favorites, and I think I did a decent enough job, too. The lighting is perfect, the clouds look alien enough, and you can just barely see the screaming campers inside the tent. I do have one issue though, and that is the size of the monster, Sabre. In the original sketch I did, he was supposed to blend in like a bush, but instead he looks like Sasquatch Sr. Oh well.

While they did give Billy a last name in the Presents books, I had to make up one for Dawn. Just based it off Gwen Stacy lol. Also, hope you enjoy the little bonus pictures down below.

The Ghost Next Door: The original Jacobus art was perfectly vague enough to keep the twist there but not spoil anything. Of course to do the same thing, but with a twist of my own. The "ghost" shadow that you see in the street is the Dark Figure that follows Hannah around or when Danny is near. I wanted it to look like it was constantly on fire, since SPOILERS: someone in the book does die in a fire.

Another headcannon is that the Dark Figure isn't actually a ghost or whatever, but instead the embodiment of Misery.

[kateschi]

explosions in the curtain aisle

synopsis: you and katsuki (after much convincing) are out to buy decorations for your home.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

after spending months merging your lives together as a married couple, you and katsuki are finally taking the plunge to decorate your shared home.

excitement bubbles within you as you navigate the aisles, envisioning how each piece could reflect both of your personalities.

“y/n, how long are we gonna be here?” katsuki complains, arms crossed, his usual fiery demeanor dialed down to a low simmer.

he’s standing a few paces behind you, his foot tapping impatiently on the polished wooden floor.

you turn to him with a playful grin. “just a little longer! we need to find the perfect throw pillow. this is important!”

“important?!” he echoes, incredulity lacing his tone. “they all look the damn same! can’t we just grab one and go? it’s a pillow, not a weapon!”

you laugh, enjoying the banter. “but it has to match the couch! you know how colors work.” you gesture toward a vibrant array of pillows, each one seeming to call your name.

katsuki’s eyes narrow, glancing at the colorful display as if it’s the most boring thing he’s ever seen. “you’re the one with the weird taste in colors. I’m just saying, if it’s ugly, I’m throwing it out the window.”

“fine,” you tease, “but if you pick it out, you have to live with it.”

he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “whatever. just make it quick, or I’m heading to the snack aisle.”

you roll your eyes, knowing that katsuki can be both impatient and stubborn, but you also understand that this shopping trip means more than just picking out a few decorative items.

it’s about creating a home together, a place filled with memories and laughter, and every detail matters.

after a few more minutes of searching, you finally spot a pillow that catches your eye—a rich teal with a textured pattern that perfectly complements your couch.

you pick it up, turning it this way and that, feeling a surge of happiness. “katsuki, look at this one!”

he strides over, feigning disinterest but unable to hide his curiosity. “let me see.” he takes it from your hands, inspecting it with a critical eye. “not bad, I guess.”

you can’t help but beam at his praise, even if it’s gruff. “you really think so?”

“yeah, but if it clashes with my stuff, it’s going in the trash,” he warns, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“promise!” you laugh, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “I’ll make sure it fits your ‘tough guy’ aesthetic.”

“good,” he replies, but there’s a hint of warmth in his tone. he places the pillow back in your hands and turns to walk away, already scanning for the next item on your list. “now, what’s next? we need some curtains or something.”

you can’t help but feel a rush of affection for him. it’s moments like these—when he pretends to be annoyed yet goes along with your whims—that remind you just how much he cares.

“how about we find some that are a bit more… cozy?” you suggest, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

he snorts, shaking his head. “cozy? what are we, grandmas?”

you roll your eyes, laughing softly. “just wait until you see them. you might actually like them!”

katsuki raises an eyebrow. “yeah, right. but I guess I’ll humor you. lead the way.”

you guide him to the next aisle, the soft rustle of fabric creating a comforting ambiance.

you sift through various curtain styles, holding up a set that features a delicate floral pattern. “what do you think about these?”

katsuki glances at them, his expression unreadable. “they’re… fine, I guess. but are they durable? I’m not having some flimsy stuff that’ll tear the first time I brush against it.”

you chuckle at his practicality, appreciating that he wants your home to feel strong and safe, just like him. “they’re made of durable material. plus, they’ll let in a lot of light.”

he tilts his head, still unsure.

you laugh again. “we can always return them if they don’t work out. and just think of how nice they’ll look with the pillow!”

he pretends to consider it seriously, squinting at the curtains as if they hold the key to world peace. “fine, fine. let’s get them.” he then turns to you with a quick glance, “you will not hang them.”

“oh, I don’t mind,” you giggle, as you lean in closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “you will look so good hanging them up in your ‘tough guy’ way, husband.”

katsuki’s lips twitch, and for a moment, you think you can see the tip of his ears turn a soft shade of pink. “shut up,” he mumbles, though there’s no real irritation behind his words.

with the curtains selected and the throw pillow secured, you both meander through the store, stopping occasionally to admire various decorative pieces.

you find a small potted plant and hold it up, grinning. “what about this? it’ll add some life to the space.”

katsuki raises an eyebrow, eyeing the plant. “you think you can keep it alive? remember that one time with that cactus?”

you wince at the memory, laughing sheepishly. “okay, I admit I’m not great with plants. but this one seems low-maintenance!”

“yeah, sure, but if it dies, I’m blaming you.”

“I’ll take full responsibility!” you promise, huffing. you don’t see your husband’s eyes lookting at you with subtle fondness, while you place the potted plant into the cart.

finally, as you reach the checkout, you feel a sense of accomplishment.

katsuki stands beside you, the small plant in hand while you juggle the curtains and pillow. “not bad for a day’s work,” you say, looking up at him.

he nods, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “yeah, I guess it’s alright.”

as you both head outside, katsuki glances at the bags in your hands, then turns to you, takes the bags, his expression softening in that rare way that only you ever get to see.

“let’s get outta here,” he mutters, running his empty hand hand through his hair. “this shopping crap’s a waste of time.”

you laugh, slipping your hand into his. “you did great, hubby.”

he grumbles, but despite that, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his grip tightening just slightly as you walk together out of the store.

you can’t help but smile at the simple gesture, so you squeeze his hand lightly.

as you approach the car, katsuki pauses, turning to you. “hey,” he starts, looking a bit bashful. “you really love this stuff, don’t you?”

“of course! it’s our home, after all,” you reply.

“then… I guess it’s worth it,” he mutters, scratching the back of his head. “just don’t make me do this every weekend.”

you chuckle, squeezing his hand. “no promises, but I’ll make sure to keep it interesting.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[umbrella-show]

https://www.tumblr.com/umbrella-show/766905601979727872/httpswwwtumblrcomumbrella-show76562826466233?source=share

Ooooooooh I love it! Great now i wanna send this in as a genuine request of your requests are open...y/n can be timid or not depending on what you wanna do but still want twist where y/n was only crowned ruler so there is an excuse for y/n to stay in the castle and be cared for/watched over by all the cookies...like to expand and explain more...cookies claimed y/n is their ruler when in reality, the cookies are the ones making up laws/creating rules, doing all the stuff rulers do and y/n's job is just to sit there with their little crown, that the cookies made sure was very comfy for y/n, and accept affection and attention from the cookies lmao!

(Also now I can't help but imagine in a funny scenario like this...to give an example of what I had in mind lol...

Some bad guy cookie...maybe DE or shadow milk...will call em bad cookie as place holder:

Bad cookie: MWAHAHAHAHA!

*all the cookies panic!*

Gingerbrave: OH NO! IT'S (insert name!)

Bad cookie: IM HERE TO TAKE OVER THE KINGDOM-

*cookies still panic...some readying to fight and others running for their lives and others just having zero clue what to do!*

Bad cookie: -AND TAKE Y/N FOR MYSELF!

*Suddenly, all the cookies froze...and slowly turn to the bad cookie, all going dead quiet. The kingdom became so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.*

Bad cookie: what the-?

*suddenly, all the cookies whip out various weapons...either their signature weapons or torches and pitchforks.*

Gingerbrave: you messed up the moment y/n's name left your mouth....CHARGE!

*all the cookies of the kingdom absolutely SWARM the bad cookie.*

Bad cookie, not expecting all the cookies to share a braincell: SON OF A- OH DEAR WITCHES! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

*Bad cookie screams in terror as they are now in the middle of a giant horde of angry cookies.*

Meanwhile...

Y/n: *was gaming...suddenly heard a little noise.* what was that?

Strawberry, who was sent to y/n earlier to distract them from the chaos outside: that was probably just the wind...say, how about we do this level next?)

And late reply is ok! I know life gets busy sometimes lol!

Kay i love this idea it made me laugh a little-

Have a short fic!

As you placed down another card on the table from your deck, you couldn't help but wonder. Is this all a ruler does? All the stories you’ve read about kings and queens usually had them attend to important affairs or run their kingdom. After becoming a ruler yourself, you found out that there wasn’t much you needed to do in the first place. All you really did was sit there and look pretty. Your friends, the Ancient cookies, who ruled their own kingdom, did more than you. They were more involved with actually running their kingdom. And you did practically nothing.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Pure Vanilla cookie said it was your turn again. Looking up at him, you saw him smiling at you with his deck of cards in his hands. He had an excellent poker face when it came to these sorts of games, you had learned. He always kept a gentle smile no matter what. You didn’t know whether it was an intimidation tactic or because he genuinely enjoyed playing these types of games.

You placed a card from your deck down on the table and took a few seconds to glance out of the window right in front of both you and Pure Vanilla cookie. It was a beautiful day. The vibrant blue sky, clear of any clouds, caused the sunlight to shine onto you and Pure Vanilla cookies from the window. You could hear birds chirping and leaves gently rustling from the light breeze.

As Pure Vanilla cookie had just placed down his card a sound made you perk up. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder as the source seemed to come closer to where you were. It almost sounded like..screaming? You looked out the window, searching for the noise. You were worried and confused. Was everything okay? Did something happen? Were people in danger? It wasn’t long until you saw what was happening.

Licorice cookie, with Bat-Cat and Choco Werehound Brute close behind, were all screaming and running from something. They just ran by, screaming their lungs out. A horde of cookies followed, yelling and brandishing their weapons. As they chased, you noticed and recognized them as almost all of the cookies in your kingdom, with Gingerbrave and his friends leading the charge. Heck, even some of the children such as Pancake and Cherry cookie were trailing along in the very back, but were determined to catch up.

As the horde passed, you could only sit in a state of shock with Pure Vanilla cookie, looking out the window with raised eyebrows while you attempted to process what you had just seen.

“Oh my. Seems as if that cookie caused quite the stir.”

Pure Vanilla said after a few seconds of stunned silence from the sight both he and you had just witnessed. However, his voice was as soft and tranquil as it always was.

“Well, Gingerbrave and the rest seem to have the situation under control.”

Pure Vanilla cookie then placed down a new card on the table, smiling at you with closed eyes as if nothing happened.

“Why don’t we continue from where we left off.”

BONUS

Licorice cookie scowled, muttering complaints as he brushed the leaves off of his robes. Bat-Cat and Choco Werehound Brute followed him, looking shaken up from their previous experience. Licorice cookie and his companions had narrowly escaped the insane cookies' anger. They had ran into the nearby forest on the outskirts of the kingdom, losing the horde in the trees. Now, they all trudged, defeated and shaken, back to the castle. Dark Enchantress cookie won’t be pleased, and Licorice was sure Pomegranate cookie would rub his loss in his face once he got back. The thought made him grip his bone scythe tighter in anger.

He may have failed to indoctrinate you into the Cookies of Darkness this time, but he promised he would get to you before Pomegranate cookie.

[bytemee]

۶ৎ LUCKY FOR ME — kim minjeong.

“you’ll be here so lucky for me.”

⌗ in which— minjeong falls in love.

pairings. college!student!winter x college!student!fem!reader

warning(s). fluff, kissing, mutual pining, and let me know if theres more!

word count. 2.2k

authors note. laufey i love you. im also writing chat. its hard to write nowdays...if u guys have short prompts u can send them i need some practice

minjeong had never really been in love before.

she always thought love was supposed to be something you eased into, like a hot bath. something that made sense because when it's with the right person, it shouldn't be a puzzle, something to decipher. but then there was you. loud where she was quiet, messy where she was meticulous, late where she was always on time. a walking contradiction to everything she was, but like they say, opposites attract.

for example, positive and negative, up and down, winter and summer.

the first time she met you was in the library. not in some romantic, serendipitous way, but because she was the unlucky library assistant assigned to track you down for not returning your books. you had disappeared from the library after freshman year, only showing your face again when you absolutely had to. she, on the other hand, had practically lived there.

“you’re a hard person to find,” she had said, arms crossed as she blocked your escape.

“yeah, well,” you had shrugged, giving her a sheepish smile, “i didn’t think anyone would actually come looking.”

she had rolled her eyes, but a little bit of her irritation melted away. you had apologized profusely, even offering to buy her lunch to make up for the trouble you caused. she had told you it wasn't necessary, that it was part of her job, but you were insistent, and she made it her mission to avoid you so you wouldn’t be able to catch her off-guard again.

and then, at the end of sophomore year, there you were again. this time, she was at the coffee shop on campus, sitting with a study group. you had been in line behind her, and the barista had called her name wrong, and you had corrected him. and that was it. the moment that changed her life.

because when she turned around, her nose and cheeks still red from the cold, her dark brown hair falling out of the scarf that covered her head, the sight of you stopped her in her tracks.

you had smiled at her and said, "hey. you're minjeong, right?"

you had known her name.

after that, you kept showing up. in the library, at the coffee shop, even in the dining hall where she usually ate alone. you made excuses to talk to her, slipping into her world so effortlessly that she didn't realize how much she had started to expect your presence until the days felt emptier without you.

you had this way of filling up her quiet world, making everything brighter and more vibrant than she had ever seen before. you didn't just change her life. you changed her.

the way you'd hum softly under your breath when she studied, the way you'd tap her notebook absentmindedly while waiting for her to acknowledge you. you annoyed her in a way she never minded, always finding a way to disrupt her routine just enough to make life more interesting.

she caught herself looking for you before she even realized she wanted to see you. she'd look over her shoulder as she walked across campus, and when you weren't there, it almost disappointed her. sometimes, you'd surprise her, and her heart would skip a beat, but then you'd smile at her and tell her you missed her, and it would start beating again.

sometimes, she didn't understand why you liked her.

but you did.

it had started slowly, but now, the realization that she loved you hit her like a tsunami, and it scared her. it felt like she couldn't breathe, like she had a rock sitting on her chest. because she had never done this before, and even though it was the scariest thing in the world, it was also the best feeling in the world.

minjeong sighed as she put down the pen and picked up her phone. her finger hovered over your contact name, but instead of calling you, she texted:

do you want to join me for a study session tomorrow?

it only took a few seconds for the three dots to appear, followed by

sure! where and when?

tomorrow, 2pm. library.

sounds perfect. can't wait!

minjeong smiled to herself and put her phone back down on the table. she turned back to her book, her face bright red.

the next day, she arrived at the library early. too early. the clock on the wall barely hit 1:30, and she was already flipping through the pages of a textbook she had no intention of reading. every few minutes, she glanced up at the door, waiting for you to walk in.

and when you did—hair a little messy, wrapped up in a scarf that barely matched your jacket, your backpack hanging off one shoulder—minjeong nearly forgot how to breathe.

“hey!” you grinned, sliding into the seat across from her. “you’re early.”

“you’re late,” she teased, though she knew you weren’t.

you laughed, shrugging off your backpack and coat. you pulled out your own stack of textbooks, notebooks, and pencils, setting them down on the table with a loud thud. she couldn't help but smile, watching as you got settled and flipped open your notebook.

minjeong was lost in her own thoughts, so when you spoke, it startled her.

"so, did you invite me here just to stare at me, or…"

her cheeks burned, and she turned away. "sorry. i didn't mean to…"

"oh, no, don't be sorry!" you chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "i was kidding… if it makes you feel better, i was staring too."

"you were?"

"well, yeah." you blushed, ducking your head slightly. "i like looking at you."

minjeong fell in love with you. again.

and again, and again, and again. she can almost rewind time, remembering every moment where you'd shown her a new reason to fall in love with you. it's impossible not to notice when everything about you is perfect. when you make mistakes, it doesn't make her want to run away. instead, it makes her want to get closer. to see all of you, flaws and all.

the first time was when it rained in the middle of spring and neither of you had an umbrella. she offered to share hers, but the wind had other plans, flipping it inside out and soaking you both within minutes. you had laughed, really laughed, and winter had just stared at you, like she had never heard anything like it before.

there was the second time on a summer night when you stayed out too late, sitting on the roof of your dorm, looking at the stars, and talking about the future. she had fallen asleep with her head on your shoulder, waking up the next morning wrapped in your arms and covered in blankets. you had kissed her forehead gently, telling her to go back to sleep.

and the third time was during the fall evening when she found you waiting outside the library, arms crossed, blowing warm air into your hands. "you're late, you know," you had teased, and she had rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. that night, after studying together for hours, she invited you back to her room for the first time.

and here she was again. falling even harder.

the driver grumbled about the frost on the windshield, muttering something about how shitty the visibility was. you let out a slow sigh, sneaking a glance at minjeong’s side profile, then at the driver, then back at her.

“minjeong,” you murmured, your voice so soft and low she almost thought she imagined it.

she turned her head just a little. “hmm?”

and that’s when you leaned in, closing the space between you, your lips pressing against hers.

for a second, she didn’t move—too surprised to react, frozen in place, unsure of what to do. she felt like she was in a dream, like any minute, she was going to wake up. she felt a rush of emotion—an overwhelming, terrifying mix of excitement, joy, and fear, all at once. and then, like an ocean wave, it swept her off her feet.

and finally, after what felt like an eternity, she kissed you back.

your lips were soft and gentle, and she felt like she was melting. like she had been cold all her life, and finally, after years of being numb, she was warm. when you pulled away, her lips still tingling, you rested your forehead against hers, smiling at her softly.

the taxi came to a stop outside the dorm, the engine giving a final sputter as it powered down.

"we're here," the driver announced, sounding impatient.

minjeong’s head was still spinning from the kiss, and you could barely catch your breath. the snow continued to fall softly, each flake twinkling as it landed on the ground. she didn't say anything as she followed behind you, exiting the taxi and walking to the front door of the dorm.

and that’s when you realized—you didn’t have your keys.

you checked your pockets. nothing. a glance at minjeong’s face told you she’d caught on too, and you cursed under your breath.

"i'm so stupid," you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

minjeong reached out and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "you're not stupid."

you sat on the steps of the building, leaning back against the stone railing, and buried your face in your hands. "i can't believe this," you mumbled. "we're gonna freeze to death out here." minjeong sat down beside you, close enough that your knees touched. she put an arm around you, pulling you close, and rested her head on top of yours.

"it's not so bad," she whispered.

you lifted your head, looking at her in surprise. "it's not?"

"no," she said. she smiled, and it made you feel safe. "it's actually kind of nice."

you hummed in agreement before muttering, "roommate’s probably out, though. i’ll just have to call her to come back and open the door." you fished your phone out of your pocket, but before you could call, minjeong grabbed your wrist gently.

"don't," she said, shaking her head. "let’s just… sit here for a while."

you hesitated, then put your phone back in your pocket, leaning into her side. "okay," you whispered.

and that's how the two of you stayed, sitting in the snow, your breaths creating small clouds of smoke that vanished into the winter air. and when you felt her lips press against the top of your head, her warmth surrounding you, her fingers laced through yours, you didn't care how cold it was anymore.

minjeong had never really been in love.

so please forgive her for the helpless haze she's in when you're near.

[spidersoulss]

Hair Dye

Pairings: Sam Winchester x f!Reader

Summary: you dye your hair and sam has some feelings about it

Warnings: mentions of sexual stuff, fluff? 

Word Count: 1,231

The bathroom was a wreck, almost every item placed into a basket to keep from getting dye on them. You had wanted a change, and what better way to achieve that than dyeing your hair?

There was no way to be clean about this process, splats of dye littered the counter of your bathroom and you prayed that it would come out easily and not stain. Don't even get me started on how your skin looked. Especially since you thought you would be fine without gloves…girl come on now.

You did not hear Sam walk into your room, the music you put on was too loud. “What the-” sam says your name once, shouts it twice, you poke your head out of the bathroom and he looks at you wide eyed, taking in your wild form. 

“Oh hey Sam!” you greet him with a smile, turning the volume down so you can actually hear him. “Uhh whatcha doin?” he raises a brow at the vibrant color staining your hair, and your neck, and your hands…and the counter..and the floor. It's like a color bomb went off.

“Just dyeing my hair” you grin, not missing the way his eyes glance warily over the mess. “Don't worry, I'm gonna clean it up, I swear” he sighs and leans against the door frame, “yeah you better” you roll your eyes at him.

You change your hair like every month, this is nothing new to either of you. Sam is always impressed at how messy you get with it and how well you're able to clean it up afterwards. He's always loved how you liked having unique hair. 

He watches you intently as you apply the color to your head, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He huffs a laugh at your concentration face. “Okay! Finally got it all on” you put your saturated hair into a bun and place a cap over your head to keep anything else from turning a different color. 

Sam helps you with cleaning up the bomb that went off during the process. 

He wipes the color off of your skin and face, kissing your forehead afterwards. You smile softly and kiss his cheek. 

“Jesus christ what's up with your head?” Dean interrupts, looking very concerned. You and Sam take a step away from each other. “Hair dye, i needed a change” you tell him, Dean scoffs and puts his hands on your hips, “why not just..keep it normal?” he gestures to you with a sassy finger. 

“Because i like it, quit judging or i'll color your hair while you sleep” you point a sassy finger back at him. Dean throws his hands up in defense, “i think im good, ladies love my locks” he runs a hand through his short blonde hair. 

“Wrong, ladies love my locks” Sam interjects, dramatically flipping his hair. You laugh and dean scoffs lightheartedly, “whatever dude” 

You shoo the boys from your room so you can chill before you have to rinse your hair. 

You're finally done after an hour, you style your hair, put on some light makeup and a cute outfit to really get the effect going. 

The brothers are sitting in the library, looking for a case. “Ahem” you clear your throat, they look up from their research and Dean's jaw practically hits the floor. Sam has a different look that he definitely doesn't want Dean to see, that look is only meant for you. And you definitely see it. 

He clenches his jaw, holding back a groan. He loves your hair and anything you do with it. Seeing you confident and feeling yourself does a little something to him. 

“Holy fuck dude, okay I was out of line earlier, this is fire” dean compliments and you chuckle, “see, I knew youd like it” you grin. Sam still hasn't said anything, he's too busy looking at you like eye candy. 

Dean elbows him out of his trance. “Huh?- oh- yeah it looks really good” he smiles at you. Dean gives him a look, “seriously dude? That's it?” he chastises his younger brother for not being more enthusiastic, despite himself judging you not even 2 hours ago for your choices.

“What? It looks great!” he says to dean and turns back to you, “it looks great, you did a good job with it” he reiterates. You giggle, knowing why he's acting like this right now. “Thank you” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Sam is trying so hard to keep it together. He can't help it, how can he when you're sitting right across from him looking so good. You offered to help them look for a case. The room is mostly silent and you're making the situation worse for Sam by rubbing your socked foot over his calf. 

He occasionally clears his throat to mask his growing arousal. He's not even focused on finding a case anymore, just looking at you through his lashes. You don't look up from your searching, smirking to yourself. 

“Aha! I think I got one” dean pipes up, talking about the strange details of a murder in Louisiana. 

“Great! Lets go check it out” you chirp, standing up ready to get your stuff together. Sam agrees to go but isn't moving from his chair. 

“Sam lets go, were waistin’ precious time” Dean nudges him and Sam clears his throat, “yeah, yeah in a minute” he waves him off and you laugh to yourself, Sam shoots you a glare. 

“Oh my god dude are you hard right now?” Dean accuses him and Sam gets defensive. “What? No! no, why would you say that?” he frowns, still sitting. Dean squints at him in suspicion, “okay then stand up” Sam rolls his eyes and shoots him a look. “Sam it's fine, we all get hard sometimes” you say

Dean looks at you like you're weird, “you're a girl” he raises a brow, “yeah, leave me and my imaginary dick alone” you defend. “You- what- okay whatever” he shakes his head. “Let a girl dream for once”. 

Sam sighs heavily, “Okay we have a case, lets leave in like 5 minutes” he says and finally stands up, turning to hide the tent in his pants, quickly going to pack his stuff. Leaving you and Dean laughing with each other about it. 

You go to pack your own things, right as you're about to pass Sam's room he grabs you and drags you inside, pinning you against the wall with his knee pressed against your core. Earning him a moan from your lips

He kisses you deeply and you sigh into the kiss. “You are so gonna get it later, you think you can tease me like that and get away with it? Look what you do to me” he says lowly, his hand guides yours to his bulge and you gulp. Butterflies flutter in your stomach.  

You knew you had got him going, but you didn't think it had this much of an affect on him. 

You whine as he kisses you again before letting you go, leaving you hot and bothered. “Go get your things before dean gets antsy” he nods towards the door and you nod dumbly. “Okay” you say softly, returning to your room to pack.

Good god above you are really in for it later. And you couldn't be more excited. 

A/N: I might write a part 2 for when she ‘gets it’ 👀

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

[infiniteimaginings]

Hi!!! I was just wondering if you could do general dating hc with Andre or Robbie from Victorious! It's alright if you can't have a good rest of your day/night!:)<3

We look good together (Andre Harris x GN!Reader)

Summary: The students of Hollywood Arts talk about what it's like seeing you two together. Pronouns: You/Yours, They/Them Warnings: None Word Count: 2.3k A/N: I don't write head cannons! Sorry I'm just bad at them! I had an idea of how I was writing this in the beginning and then it turned into something completely different, lmao. Here's the friend group talking about how healthy the couple is lol! <33

André Harris was the guy everybody liked. He was handsome, he was kind, smart, musically talented, supportive, and one of the most laid back people at Hollywood Arts.

No one was surprised when André started dating you, it was going to happen at some point. They were mainly surprised with how the dynamics of your relationship worked.

The relationship everyone was used to, wasn’t the best example for relationships. Jade and Beck broke up multiple times and the entire school was still questioning how and why they were still together.

Regardless, everyone was rooting for you guys since your relationship seemed to be the opposite of theirs. In other words, you’re a couple that people actually enjoy inviting places.

The main group: Tori, Beck, Jade, Cat, and Robbie, (and Rex), all sat at their typical lunch table, waiting for you and Andr é.

Jade groaned, placing her hand in front of her eyes, “Why are we waiting?” She asked, face in it’s typical neutral fashion but, it was clear she disliked having to wait in order to get lunch. 

Tori scrunched her nose at Jades current discomfort, “We’re waiting for André and-” 

“Yeah, yeah, his obsession. What do they have to do with anything?”

Beck looked over to Jade and put his arm around her shoulder, “They’ve been dating for months.”

“Yeah, get over yourself.” Tori told her, moving her bag to grab her phone. She began typing out a message to André, asking when he would get there since Jade was already antsy.

Cat ran her hand through her vibrant red curls, adjusting her top. “I think it’s sweet, they look cute together.”

Jade tapped her fingers on the table, “You think everything is cute.”

The redhead simply laughed, showing her dimples as she shook her head, “You don’t think anything’s cute!” 

A voice from the end of the table spoke up, “You’re just mad that everyone likes their relationship more than yours!” 

The comment caused everyone to turn to that person and Robbie was looking down at…Rex. 

Jade smiled with closed eyes, “Shut your puppet up or I cut off all his little limbs and run his plastic head over.” She spoke, eyes widening slowly before narrowing into a nasty glare.

Robbie rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, “He’s not really wrong, it seems like you don’t like them coming together because they get invited to more things than you.” He mumbled, cowering under the dark haired girl's gaze.

“Why would I care that they get invited to places? I barely like anyone here.” She grumbled, leaning into Beck with a roll of her eyes. “Besides, I unfortunately hang out with the same seven people everyday.”

As she said that, a voice spoke from behind them, “They get invited because they bring the energy up instead of dragging it to the dark parts of our memories that we don’t want to touch.” The voice caused everyone but Jade to jump. 

When they all turned, they were met with the oddest friend they’ve ever made at the school, Sinjin Van Cleef. They had no idea whether that was against their will and he was just around a lot, or if they knew him by choice. They never questioned it. 

Beck shook his head at the typical antics of the boy, “What do you mean?” He asked.

Sinjin lit up and moved his way in between Beck and Tori, “I am so glad you asked.” He spoke, already beginning his story, “Just last week…”

It was tech week, preparing for the next show was a usual occurrence at Hollywood Arts. What wasn’t a normal occurrence was Sinjin being the only person to work everything for a few hours since his crewmates had a project during that period. He was the only person with a free period and had to work on the tech since it was currently a disaster.

As he was trying his hardest not to get frustrated and ultimately give up, you and André walked in, smiles on your faces as you talked about anything and everything. André left his phone during practice before the bell, so you guys decided to get it during your free period instead of interrupting class.

You had continued talking to André, looking around at the lights on stage until you looked up and noticed the curly haired boy tapping on his board for some portion of the tech. You tapped on André, bringing his attention to the seemingly irritated boy.

“Hey Sinjin!” He called, grabbing the boy's attention. Sinjin took off his headphones and gave a half wave to the two, “Hey guys.” 

You waved back but, both of you could tell something was wrong. 

André walked a little closer, Sinjin leaning over the rail to keep eye contact. “What’s up man?” André asked, concern lacing his voice since he could see Sinjin's face was blotched with red, as if he was about to cry.

Sinjin sighed, rubbing his eyes and explained the situation. “The rest of the tech crew can’t come in for this period because of some project.” He began, you and your boyfriend nodding along as he spoke. “We have checks tomorrow, so I have to get all this done before the period ends or we’ll have to delay the show.” 

You hummed, “What all are you guys getting checked?”

“Mics, lighting, and the electric steps.” Sinjin answered, reminding them of the scene where the two characters run up the moving stairs, singing with each other. “Without the crew it just takes longer to hear the feedback from mics, to test the steps and see if they really work, and if the lighting hits right.”

You and André looked at each other, almost having a silent conversation before shrugging and turning back to your friend.

André put his phone back on the chair and took your hand, leading you to the stage. 

Sinjin stood to look at you guys better, “Um, what are you guys doing?”

You shook out your nerves a bit and tilted your head, “What does it look like we’re doing?”

“We’re going to help you set up for checks tomorrow.” Your boyfriend answered, walking to the table on stage with the mics. He handed you one of the mics, strapping his own on, “Do all the mics need testing?” He asked, adjusting his hair so the mic would sit comfortably. 

Sinjin sighed with a smile, relief filling him when you guys said you would help and he shook his head. “Just mics 4, 7, 19, and 23.” He informed, to which the two of you nodded. 

You put your mic on, André making sure it was on right. “So, two runs with the mics, alone. Then we could do…” You trailed off, André finishing your aloud thoughts, “A couple runs with mics and lighting, then a few with the stairs.”

And that’s exactly what the two of you did. The two of you knew the choreography since you were in the performance.

You both helped Sinjin with everything he needed and even a bit more with your personal sights, even going as far to hear from outside the door just to check the feedback. All three of you spent the free period finishing up what Sinjin needed.

Once he reached the floor where you guys were packing up, he adjusted his glasses and thanked both of you profusely.

You waved your hand, “Don’t worry about it, anything to help!”

André shook his head, “You’re our friend Sinjin, if you’re ever in that situation again just text us.”

“He’s serious, and so am I. We’ll always be free.”

 Sinjin finished the memory with a sweet smile on his face, “I have never been helped like that.” He told the group, hands clasped together. 

“That’s because you’re a borderline stalker.” Jade replied, head bobbling as a thin smile painted her face at how Sinjin's expression fell.

Beck sighed, huffing out a breath, “Stop it.” He mumbled to her and she rolled her eyes and shook her head, placing her chin into her palm.

Tori hummed a bit, “I think they’re just helpful people on their own.” She shrugged, playing with the holes in the table. “As a couple they just have a different type of…energy.” She tried to explain, which everyone understood.

Cat nodded and smiled widely, “That’s why I think they’re so cute together! I mean have you seen them when they’re near each other?” She asked, remembering each time she’s seen the two of you together.

You were practicing choreography for a project you had with two other students, in one of the empty practice rooms. André was helping with the original music aspect, and he was the only other one there since Cat and the other person in their project hadn’t arrived yet.

When Cat finally did get there, you were near the end of the choreo, and she felt terrible. She entered the room quietly, trying not to interrupt.

When you did finish the choreography, André stopped playing and turned to you with a bright grin, his eyes shining as he looked at you. You walked over to him with a matching grin and stood in between his legs, hands on his shoulders.

“That was absolutely amazing choreography.” He whispered to you, rubbing your sides.

You were breathing a bit heavy but chuckled nonetheless, “Your fantastic original song is why it feels so put together.” You whispered back, your comment causing him to laugh a bit.

The two of you stayed in that position, whispering sweet nothings to one another as you both felt the warmth from each other's hands.

André pulled you in a little closer, lifting his head up to meet your gaze in that position and you lifted one of your hands to cup his face. You leaned down and placed a small kiss to his lips, humming against them when you pulled apart.

Cat couldn’t hear it well but she was sure she heard the two of you whisper,

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

Tori poked her bottom lip out as her eyes were wide in adoration, “That is so sweet.”

Cat pointed to her before clapping a bit, “I know! It was so cute!” She responded, smiling and shimmying her shoulders.

Robbie didn’t quite understand, and he tilted his head, “I don’t get it.” 

“Of course you don’t get it, you have no romance in your life…ever.” A ‘voice’ called from below him, belonging to Rex.

Robbie shook his head and ignored the puppet, “I mean I don’t get it, they’re supposed to like each other. So what if they do it in private?” He asked, his point getting across to all of them.

Tori tilted her own head, “It’s not just in private though. They show that kind of affection all the time and…” She paused, trying to find the right words.

Beck apparently knew the right ones as he swooped a hand through his hair, “Their affection towards one another extends to how they treat other people.” He explained with a nod of his head. “Therefore, making them an extremely likable couple.”

Jade pursed her lips, “Those are just two experiences, for all we know they probably don’t even…what is it..” She mumbled, “Communicate, or whatever.”

Tori raised her brow, pulling up her phone before showing Jade a few pictures. “They got André a custom guitar and a keyboard that his favorite artist used in concert.” She began, holding her finger up when Jade tried to speak, “And his grandma likes them.” She nodded along with her own words, dropping something everyone was surprised about.

“That doesn’t mean-”

This time, Beck actually cut in, “André pulled strings and got them as a backup dancer for their favorite singer's music video.” 

“But do they communicate? You don’t know.”

Cat pursed her lips to the side, “I’m sure they communicate if they’re still together.”

“I mean Beck and Jade are still together, so clearly communication doesn’t mean much.” A voice from Robbies direction spoke out.

This apparently brought Jade to silence as she clenched her jaw and her eye twitched. That was until she suddenly stopped and she blinked at the group with a weird look, “When did this become a share circle?”

“When did what become a share circle?” A voice asked from the side of the table.

You and André sat at the end of the table, it was a little cramped and once they all realized, the main group's eyes went straight to Sinjin. The curly haired boy stood with his mouth in a line, waving goodbye as he walked away.

André’s arm was around your waist and you were holding both of your phones. “Sorry we’re late, the teacher held us back for a minute.” You explained, André confirming with a nod of his head.

“What were you guys talking about?” André asked, raising a brow at everyone, minus Jade, smiling at them.

Tori stood up and shook her head, “Nothing.” She spoke suspiciously with a smile, everyone standing up after her, including you and André.

Jade rolled her eyes, “They were all talking about what a great couple the two of you were.” She spoke, her expression neutral.

The two of you looked at each other and then back at your friends, “What?” You asked simultaneously.

Beck walked with Jade, his arm around her shoulder still, “You two just look good together is all.” He spoke, walking past you. 

The rest of your friends agreed, beginning their walk to the restaurant you guys decided you were going to for lunch.

The two of you were a little shocked so you were stuck, hand and hand, standing in the lunch plaza of your school.

You looked at your boyfriend and shrugged, “I mean, they aren’t wrong.” 

André laughed and shook his head, “Nope, they’re not.” He hummed, walking with you to catch up with your friends. “We do look good together.”

[yoonmetogether]

not in the cards prelude pt. 1

pairing: gambler!Yoongi x !fem reader genre: strangers-to-lovers, age gap, intro to mafia/bodyguard au summary: how it all started. you won all of his money at poker, he hates you for it, but you find yourself hiding in a closet with him. (This is rlly e2l2e2l lol) warnings: alcohol, mild derogatory language, yoongi's an asshole, reader antagonizes him, motorcycle riding, gambling, smoking, drinking, smut, quickie in a janitor’s closet 🥴, insane bickering, usage of sl*t, yoongi and those red chopsticks from haegeum, a smidge of violence (not towards each other), implied parental absence, scars, reader mentions a minor injury from a car crash wc: 10.2k minors dni. 18+ only thanks to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo and also to @syllviere for their help and support! <333

masterlist

You picked a great time to fly back home - smack dab in the middle of monsoon season. Of all the light things you packed in your backpack and duffle bag, you forgot an umbrella.

And the first thing you did once you set foot on the mainland soil of your Jeju pit stop, was ask your driver to take you to the Sehwa beach on the east coast. But the cash you had got you only about three-quarters of the way there, so you were dropped off into the one part of town you’re familiar with. Memories of happier times dance around the streets as you walk down them, on your way to the place you know best. Even though it will remind you of how things once were and never will be again, you go because it’s the only place you know where you can earn money without really having to work for it.

You’re soaked to the bone when you walk into the bar. The lights are low and dimmed with a green hue and floating smoke. It’s loud with banter as men get drunk on this gloomy Friday night.

You find an ATM near the bathrooms and withdraw 700,000 won.

“Hi, sweetie. Are you lost?” one of the pretty waitresses asks as she approaches you in a short apron and even shorter skirt, lips painted a vibrant ruby. Her silky bob is curled just above a black choker around her neck, and she glances down as you slide your wad of cash into your wallet, stuffing it in your jacket pocket.

“Uh, no. Can I get a drink and a seat please?”

She looks at you with apprehension laced in her polite expression. “There’s a much quieter bar a few blocks down the street. You might have a better time there.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m actually looking to win some money.”

“I see,” she says after a pause, giving you a onceover. “Are you old enough?”

Yeah, an illegal gambling ring probably wouldn’t want to get tacked on with another charge of hosting minors if the cops were ever smart enough to come snooping around a place like this. You pull out your ID and hand it to her, watching as she holds it up and you know just what she’s looking for because you’ve used a fake to get in here before.

The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile as she passes it back to you. She turns around and beckons you forward with two fingers in the air, leading you through the bar, and as you trail behind her, nostalgia walks with you.

At the bar was where you took your first shot, had your first cigarette, in spite of your brother’s protests, and the den downstairs that you’re heading to was where you won your first real hand at poker. It’s still the same old musty, dusty, probably moldy basement that you remember, but now the ghosts of your past linger in the air so it’s hard to go through without getting a little misty-eyed.

As you step off the stairs, the waitress is surveying the room. It’s much more crowded and loud than upstairs since there are high stakes all around. You strain your neck, looking for an empty chair but they’re all occupied by men with too much time and not enough money to lose.

“Well, all of the tables are full right now, but I can set you up with a drink at the bar while you wait for an opening.”

“What about the table in the back?” Her eyes narrow.

“That’s for more experienced players.” Leaning against the railing, you hum, check your manicure.

“I’ll cut you twenty percent of my win if you get me in there.”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You’re that confident?”

“This is where I learned how to play pro. I win more than I lose.”

She looks you up and down again, like she can’t figure you out.

“Make it twenty-five.”

“Deal,” you grin and she mirrors you, flashing her teeth.

“Follow me.”

You pull your damp hoodie further over your head in an attempt to shield your face as you follow her through the maze of tables towards a door in the far corner of the low-ceiling room. It’s slightly obscured by the counter and sheer, moth-eaten curtains that match the shitty wall color, and you thank the waitress when she pulls them to the side to direct you through. She then leads you into a small hallway but pauses right before the second door frame.

“I have to tell you, these men aren’t exactly their mothers’ favorite.”

You shrug. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Alright, well if you change your mind…”

“Thanks, but I won’t. I owe you that big tip.”

She smiles. “Don’t let me down, girlie.”

“Is there room for one more, gentlemen?” Her voice carries over the cocksure babble of the middle-aged men surrounding the round, green-felt table, littered with scattered poker chips, worn ashtrays and crystal glasses of whiskey. You’re met with a thick cloud of smoke as you approach an empty seat at the table. They all fall quiet as you pull down your hood, revealing your wet hair and the fact that you are not one of them.

A collective muttering of derision rises as you pull out the chair but you act completely unbothered, unzipping your drenched coat and shrugging it off. You fish your wallet out of your jacket and pass all of your cash to the attendant who exchanges it for chips.

“What do you know about poker?” one of the men prods.

"Plenty. Deal me in. What’s the ante?”

“I think you’re wasting your time,” another cuts in. “You should go see if they have a kiddie table.”

The men shove elbows into each other in raucous laughter at your expense but it doesn’t affect you at all.

“Let her play.”

You look up at the new voice. Gravelly. Gruff. Tempting.

Shit. How did you miss… him? The youngest man in the room, the one with parts of his face shadowed by the god-awful, dim lighting, has not taken his eyes off of you since you walked in. You can tell by the way the bumps on your skin prickle every time your attention flickers in his direction and your eyes catch. His hair is orangey, as much of it that pokes out from under his black beanie, and he’s wearing a black varsity jacket with white stitching on the front that makes him stand out among the rest of the men’s unflattering suits and loose ties.

He lifts his cigarette, takes a drag, and blows it out, blinking between you and two black poker chips he taps on the table.

You glare at the subtle smirk on his lips as he says, “Easy win.”

This will be fun.

The first few rounds you do get shit hands, but you bet on them anyway, enduring the condescension that leers from the entire table each time. The only one who doesn’t laugh is the one you can’t stop stealing glances at, the one who just nonchalantly smokes and places bets and looks at his cards, and occasionally stares right back. Makes your heart flip. You’ve noticed, though, from watching him a few times, that when the flop is laid out and it’s time for the first bets, if he blinks a little erratically while staring at his hand, he folds soon after. You fold on a two-pair after checking, and the players get a kick out of that when you reveal that you had a potentially winning hand. You pretend to be super bummed. But now you’ve got them right where you want them.

So far, you’ve bet the majority of your money but you’re fairly certain that won’t matter in a few minutes. In your hand, you hold an 8 and 2 of Diamonds. On the table, lies a ten of Spades, six of Clubs, 4 and Queen of Diamonds, and three of hearts. You school your expression. One more diamond card and it’s a flush. You look up and it seems the majority of the table has folded, but ‘kiddie table’ man and ‘beanie with a mean stare’ man are still in the running. Both of their hands have been good so far, but ‘beanie with a mean stare’ has won most of the rounds. This is the last one and you’re running out of time to win all of it back. You feign a nervous glance around the table before you check. ‘Kiddie’ checks as well and you wait for ‘mean beanie’ to follow suit but instead, he scoots the rest of his chips in to raise the bet. Huh. He’s getting cocky, going all in. He only blinked once when the dealer laid down the flop, so you suspect he has a good hand. But not a great one, so you’ll raise the stakes. The men mutter in amusement when you match his bet and he lifts a brow, but the rest of his expression remains neutral. The dealer asks if that’s the final bet, and when no one responds, he flips the fifth card. Your heart jumps. 

A nine of Diamonds.

‘Kiddie’ goes first and displays his three-of-a-kind. Hm. Not bad. You glance over to ‘mean beanie,’ waiting for him to make the next move but he only stares at you, unblinking, a thin line between his lips. You take a deep breath and put on a sheepish smile while flattening your cards near the center of the table so everyone can see.

“Is this a flush?” They all still, and you fail to fight off a grin when their many pairs of eyes go back and forth between the river and your two low rank cards that add up to a high rank hand.

‘Mean beanie’ is now staring at his cards, a noticeable tick in his jaw and you know you’ve won. He tosses them down with a quick flick of his wrist and you can’t help your smirk at his obvious dejection. You observe his 5 of Hearts and 7 of Spades.

“Oh, a straight? How nice.” Your head tilts mockingly. “You almost beat me.”

He frowns and you feel enthralled, resisting the urge to blow him a demeaning kiss. With a content sigh, you lean forward to scrape your scored chips towards you, holding your arms out like a hoop to move them all because there’s just that many. You stand as an attendant appears to retrieve your chips to count and trade for the table’s cash. You think you’ll get a nice hotel room to shelter from the storm.

“It was a pleasure playing with you gentlemen,” you say politely as you stand. “I’ll enjoy spending your money.”

The devilish grin you send to all of them lingers on ‘mean beanie’ who is now refusing to look at you. There’s a pep in your step as you stride up to the attendant behind the counter near the door, waiting for him to cash you out.

You watch as the men file out, glaring at you and muttering bitter curses amongst themselves. You shrug it off. Serves them right for underestimating you just because you’re a young woman. You may have been putting on an act, but men run the world.

Shouldn’t they have been smart enough to pick up on that?

‘Beanie’ is the last one to go, head ducked as he pulls out his phone. He’s still in the hallway when you exit, backpack stacked with 10 million won. His foot is on the bottom step as he types furiously on his device.

“Hey, good game,” you say in a light tone as you pass him, but there’s too much sass in your smile to seem genuine. “And you’re right. That was an easy win.”

He lifts his head slowly, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, pockets his phone and takes a step up. It makes your heart speed when he comes nearly face to face with you, and you can see him in this mildly better lighting.

“How’d you pull that off, huh? You count cards?” He’s pretty much seething but fucking hell, he's attractive.

“No,” you blink innocently, living for the ferocity in his darkened eyes. “I just count on men to be dumb enough to believe a pretty girl like me doesn’t know how to gamble. Thanks for being so full of yourself that you can’t see through a sham like that.”

His jaw ticks as his glare rakes up and down your form.

“You’re full of yourself, too. You’re not that pretty.”

It’s a cheap shot, but it’s obvious he’s just trying to make himself feel better by hurting your feelings because he has nothing else.

“Aww, you sound like a sore loser. Do you want to go back in there? Try to win some back?”

“I’m done playing for the night.” He still hasn’t gotten out of your face and the scent of his earthy cologne with traces of cigarette smoke is doing unhealthy things to your blood pressure.

“Understandable. It would suck to get your ass beat by a girl twice in a row.”

He's radiating with vexation but it doesn’t intimidate you in the slightest. If anything, it’s making him more attractive, which makes you think you should do some deep, serious internal reflection. His nostrils flare just before he swivels on his heel to face the steps.

“Oh, by the way, I noticed that you blink a lot when you get a bad hand. You should work on that.”

His head jerks to you, seeming to take offense to that. He looks you up and down again, scowls, and starts up the stairs.

“Maybe with your money, I’ll buy some expensive makeup to doll myself up better!” You call up.

“You’d need a lot!” 

Fucking liar. You cackle as he jogs up the rest of the way.

Once you finish it, you check the time and realize you shouldn’t hang around here for much longer. And you’re starting to feel the effects of jet lag now that you’ve got your money problems squared away. But of course you left your jacket downstairs. You ask the waitress if you can go get it.

Upstairs, he’s already out of sight. You relocate the waitress who greets you expectantly, an enthusiastic grin breaking out on her face when you pull out your winnings. She gives you a small cheer and while you sit at the bar to count out her cut, she makes you a drink on the house.

“Sure, but come right back.”

In the hallway, you falter when you hear a one-sided conversation, spoken by that low stony voice that tickles your brain. You peek your nosy head around the corner, pulse spiking with a thrill when you see ‘beanie’ standing on the other side of the room, next to another hallway.

“The fuck do you mean it didn’t go through? 

As he listens on the other line, he hangs his head, fingers digging into his eyes in what appears to be frustration before dropping them on his hip.

“Shit, are you serious?... Can you just send me some for a plane ticket? I’ll pay you back...” He sighs dejectedly. “Fine. See you back home.”

He curses again, louder this time, and you take that as your cue to saunter into the room, pretending you don’t notice him as you head for the table.

“You stalking me?” You blow a raspberry, leaning down to grab your jacket from the chair and hold it up for him to see.

“As if. You’re not that interesting. And you’re a sore loser,” you tack on. “Not my type.”

(Straight up lies.)

“Well, you’re fucking annoying.”

“Thank you!” You exclaim, hand on your chest like you’re honored. “I’ve worked so hard to be.”

He glowers at you and you really want to laugh. Why is he so angry? It’s not like you stole his money. Tricked him? Maybe, but you can’t exactly be fair in a place like this. His head shakes as he passes by you for the exit.

“So I really won all of your money, huh? And now you’re strapped for cash?” He pauses, slides narrowed eyes your way, and stuffs his hands in his jacket.

“Mind your business.”

“What? It just sounds like you’re in a tough spot, especially with the big storm coming later. I’d hate to think that you’re stranded in torrential downpour with nowhere to go all because some mid-looking girl took your money.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps.

“How is that patronizing? I’m just saying, I’m sorry you fell for my dirty little trick, but I can help you out if you want.”

He strides into your space and you step back, heart pounding when he gets in your face again. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes but you’re not at all threatened.

“I don’t need shit from you.” You tip your head up and bat your eyelashes, sneaking a glance at his lips, pink and plush and enticing. 

“Okay,” you shrug nonchalantly, failing to fight off a small smirk. Warmth creeps up from your cheeks to your ears when his blown out pupils flash down to your mouth. And the tension in between you transforms with a feral magnetism.

His tongue darts out to his bottom lip and your eyes widen a fraction at the sight.

“You’re really aggravating, you know that?”

“You can walk away.” His head tilts at your challenge and the magnetism grows when he doesn’t move.

Just then, your heads turn towards the stairs when voices and footsteps start to descend.

He grabs your arm and tugs you around the corner and to the end of the hallway, whipping open a small door and stepping inside before pulling you along with him. Your nose wrinkles at the odious smell of industrial cleaning agents.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” he hisses, tugging you away from the door to the adjacent side of the small and dark closet. “No one’s supposed to be down here now that they’ve closed things up.”

“Oh,” you whisper, settling against the wall. “You don’t really strike me as the type to follow the rules.”

“I’m not,” he grits, voice deep enough to not be heard easily. “But I know that consequences still apply if I get caught.”

“Well, this isn’t how I expected to spend my Friday night,” you huff with a cross of your arms. “Holed up in some janitor’s closet with a common criminal.”

“You’re one too, y’know. You committed a felony just by stepping foot in here. And then another, when you won all that money.”

You mimic that last sentence in a childish tone and his chest heaves in a huff.

“Will you be quiet?”

“Am I pissing you off?”

“You have been since the first goddamn minute you walked in.”

“If I annoy you that much, you could’ve just hidden in here yourself and left me out there to get in trouble.”

“I still have time. I could push you out now.”

“Do it then.”

A silence follows, like he’s contemplating. Hesitating. That magnetism comes back to buzz and burn.

“Or maybe, and I’m just spitballing here, you wanted an excuse to get me alone in this dark, tight space?”

He scoffs. “You’re delusional.”

“Hm. Then why are you so close? There’s more than enough room for the both of us to have space.”

When he doesn’t say anything, unease pinches your gut as you think you’ve gotten ahead of yourself and misread things. You can’t help that his whole broody, pissed off vibe turns you on for some reason. So you move to get away from him, create some space now that you’re embarrassed but his hand finds the crook of your elbow and stops you. Heat floods your cheeks for a whole different reason.

“What are you trying to get at?” You smile, heart pounding with nerves because you know his rejection would sting like hell. But you’re not about to let his attitude shit on your confidence.

“C’mon, you’re not that dumb.” His fingers dig into your arm, not enough to hurt but enough to feel that you’ve pinched a nerve.

You gasp when he pushes your arm until your back hits the wall and you stare at the silhouette of his face, his hand lifting above your head. Blood rushes in your ears when he leans in so close that his warm breath fans down to your chin.

“You wanna be fucked in here like a slut? Is that it?”

Holy mother of fuck. The way he said that - husky, dark, low but so intense has to be a sin.

“Can you even get it up this late at night, old man?”

“Who the fuck are you calling old?” He snaps. “You’ve got to be at least 30.”

He better be joking! “What does that make you, then? 45? 50?” 

“Try 27.”

“Huh. You’re still a lot older than me.” You don’t find that hot.

“By how much?” he queries, a bit of apprehension in his tone.

“5 years.”

He exhales sharply, a breath of relief. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Is almost 30 too early to have ‘dysfunctional’ problems?”

Large hands on your hips force you to turn around and face the wall, and you plant your palms on it with a gasp when he grinds his clothed erection on the swell of your ass.

“Does this feel ‘dysfunctional’ to you?” he growls, grinding against you again, slower this time but harsher so you can feel all of what’s swelling in his pants. He’s big, because of course he is, and you figure by the end of this, you’ll be the dysfunctional one.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, throat suddenly dry. He chuckles, and it’s like a jolt of thunder worthy of a hurricane storming through every seed of your nerves.

Sighing, he leans into you, chest barely brushing your back, and returns his hand to the wall above your head, ducking his chin to breathe down your neck and you gasp again as he rolls his hips once more while muttering darkly into your ear,

“Do you want to find out?” A shiver bolts down your spine, and your center starts to throb with sinful desire.

Getting fucked on a Friday night in a cleaning closet by a common criminal is definitely not something you expected to be doing on your trip back home. But you don’t want it to go in any other way.

“Mhmm.”

“Is that supposed to be a word?”

“Yes!” You whisper yell.

“Yes, what?” he emphasizes, tone gritty and dominating.

“Yes, I want to find out.”

Quiet passes for a minute and you think he’s in the middle of rethinking things, but then he manhandles you to the side of the closet opposite from the door, and you put out your hands to feel that you’re pressed into a set of shelves holding big ass rolls of paper towels or something.

He tugs at the hem of your pants. “Take these off.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance to change your mind,” he mutters.

Huh. You hesitate only because that was unexpected. But you weren’t planning on changing anything. Without a word, you undo the clasp on your jeans and reach back to find his hand, taking note of the insane electricity that surges through you once you touch him, and bring it back to your waist, silent permission that he can continue. Nothing is said as he slides your pants down your ass, and you wait for him to work on his own jeans but instead you feel his fingers trickle on the inside of your upper thigh, breath hitching as he inches closer to your heat. You spread your legs and arch your back to give him indication to touch you. He cups your mound, and you lurch forward with a moan, grabbing the shelf to hold onto for dear life.

“You better stay quiet,” he grumbles. “Because if you get us caught, I’ll tell them I found out you were counting cards.”

“And you were fucking me as punishment?” you challenge over your shoulder, but the vitriol in your sneer is extinguished when he glides a lone finger between your folds.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re already wet. Being a dirty slut like this turns you on?”

You don’t answer, brain malfunctioning when he starts rubbing circles over your clit, and you duck your head as it increases your arousal. A whiny moan floats out when he teases your hole and hums to himself. Your shoulders tense when he slips a digit in, shushing your louder moan as he adds another and pumps in and out to work you open. You have to hold your breath every now and then to keep your noises to yourself.

As he keeps finger-fucking you, there’s some shifting and then a slap of something falling on the floor, followed by the sound of foil tearing.

“Did you just get a condom out of your wallet?” you manage to croak.

“No, I pulled it out of thin air,” he deadpans dryly.

You roll your eyes. Men. Always staying locked and fucking loaded. And he called you a slut? You open your mouth to convey this to him, but you figure one more smart-ass comment will deny you of what you’re craving.

You salivate when you hear him undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He steps back with a faint moan, and you imagine him finally pulling himself out to roll on the condom. Shit. You know you’re in for it.

His hand finds your waist again, and he spits, loudly, before tapping his tip on your center, gathering your arousal. Your body jerks at the sensation of his head dragging through your folds and over your clit before coming back to prod your entrance, making you tense up in anticipation.

“Are you going to back out? Last chance.”

“No, I’m good.” There’s a lapse in movement and in words but then he pushes in and- fuck! It’s a stretch. A big, thick stretch. You moan over a bitten tongue as your eyes squeeze shut, urgently trying to adjust.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not up for it,” he mutters quietly when your cunt refuses to cooperate, thanks to a mix of nerves.

"I am, damn it!”

“Then fucking relax.”

So you deflate your lungs, using the idea of just how good it’ll feel once he fills you up for motivation to do as he says. You let your body go almost entirely limp and he must notice because he digs his fingers into your waist and guides himself in, agonizingly slow, expanding your walls with girth so fulfilling.

A low growl resonates in his chest when he sinks in all the way, fingers flexing on your naked hips as he gives time for you to adjust. His hard dick twitching tells you that he needs a second too. Then for a few minutes, he fucks you at a snail’s pace while you try not to lose your shit. He pulls out to bend his knees, and thrusts back up into you, breathing shakily as he increases the pace.

He doesn’t take his hands off of your waist. Doesn’t grope your ass, or cup handfuls of your tits, just holds onto your hips to keep you in place, occasionally uses them to adjust his stance behind you. A part of you wishes he would because you know his large hands could work wonders on your skin, but at the same time there’s a modicum of respect coming from his restraint. You don’t know if that’s what he’s going for or if he just genuinely doesn’t want to touch you - which, ouch - but you’re pretty sure most guys would take you letting them fuck you in a closet as automatic permission to touch all parts of your body whether you asked them to or not, but apparently he’s not one of them.

There is one place, though, that you desperately need him to put his hands on and for whatever reason, he’s not.

“Are you gonna play with my clit anytime soon? Or did you, in your old age, forget where it is?” He huffs, dark and indignant in your ear.

“It’d be nice to get off at some point ton-” A hand slides over your cheek and a pair of fingers gets shoved on your tongue, cutting you off.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Your eyes roll back at the rigid and domineering grit in his tone, and your back arches to press further into him, needy, wanting. His other hand rises to replace his fingers with a balled-up piece of fabric, and then he snakes down to in between your legs. You have to bite down on whatever fabric he used to muffle you when he easily finds your aching nub and spreads your saliva over it before stroking in agonizing circles. Your teeth clamp down harder on the mysterious material to barricade a whimper.

His hips, on the other hand, start to smack against your ass with animalistic determination, like he wants to fuck you as fast as he can so he can get this over with. Which is fine by you, because it feels so fucking good. The force of his thrusts paired with the tips of his fingers rubbing your clit in rough, calculated strokes has your nails scraping on the wall due to the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

He starts to fuck you at a different angle and you almost cry out when he spears against your spot.

“There?” he asks, rocking in the same place experimentally while you clench around him. Your thighs start to shake.

“Mhmm!” you exclaim. He doesn’t stop fucking you there until you come, and even though you already can’t see shit, you definitely black out for a second. The material in your mouth isn’t helping your breathing situation but it’s preventing you from crying.

He hisses and then yanks out, lets go of your waist, and you involuntarily drop to your knees.

“Shit, my fault,” he mutters, but you’re focused on plucking the cloth out of your mouth, scrunching it in your palm. You weakly pull your jeans to your hips and turn around when he curses again, reaching out to find his dick as he jerks himself to completion. He stops and rips off the condom, thumb sliding up your chin and into your mouth to force it open.

“Gonna come,” he grumbles. You nod and stick out your tongue, and using his thumb as guidance, he slides his thick mushroom head past your lips, filling your mouth with hot ropes of cum. He emits some kind of purr sound as you swallow it all down and your eyes close as you bask in his sounds of pleasure.

After allowing a moment to accept what just happened, he steps back again and sighs heavily as he tucks himself in, fixing his belt while you wipe your mouth with the inside of your shirt. When he bends down to pick up his wallet, you wait for his hand to offer you help up off the floor, but he just turns around, leaving you to stand up on your own with shaky legs.

That’s not the vibe you were starting to get from him, but okay?

Swinging on your jacket with a bit of shame, you walk up behind him where he’s listening at the door for anyone outside, and realize that you just let this guy fuck you in a weird-smelling closet and come in your mouth before you even got his name.

“I’m Angel, by the way.”

“That’s nice," he says flatly, tone withdrawn.

“Did you flunk preschool? This would be the part where you tell me your name.”

“I'm good.” You scoff, taken aback. 

"Geez, dude. After all that, you can’t even tell me your name?”

"Nah. Not like we’re ever gonna see each other again, right?” That stings. He doesn’t have the courtesy to do something normal after doing something so unorthodox?

“Whatever, prick.”

When he opens the door, you toss the fabric at him and shove into his shoulder, not looking back as you hurry towards the stairs, taking two at a time to get away from him.

The waitress gives you a wary look as you stomp towards her, and you offer an embarrassed apology while you gather your bags. You thank her, pass her a few more bills, and make an escape to the bathroom. You refuse to look in the mirror as you get yourself together. What the fuck were you thinking?

But as the universe would have it, he’s outside under the awning because of the rain, scrolling through his phone and smoking a cigarette with a foot propped on the wall.

Without slowing down, you walk by him, pluck the cigarette from his fingers and continue down the block. At the corner, you stop abruptly, and lift the stick to your lips, take a drag, then toss it into the street, staring right at him. He frowns and with the hand not stuffed in his jean pocket, raises his middle finger and you shoot him one right back, blowing out smoke and holding back a cough. You flag down a cab with a heavy weight in your chest that crawls up to your throat and threatens to imitate the storm pouring from the clouds above.

After driving around for a while to clear your head and book a hotel room, you ask the cab driver to drop you off at a crowded restaurant you've heard of but never been to. The rain follows you and you do your best to shake it off of your clothes and shoes before you go in. An older male server rushes by carrying a tray of soju and shot glasses, beckons you further inside and gestures over to the far end of the room where a small empty table sits in front of the window. As you weave your way towards it, you pass by groups of friends, some couples, others colleagues, all having a good time staying out of the storm together. It makes you a little bitter and a lot lonely.

You sit down with your back facing away from the reminder that you’re the only one occupying a two-person table and order a bottle of soju and hot bowl of noodles that will take away some of the wet chill clinging to your skin.

As you wait, you lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and stare outside, reminiscing about old times. Old friends. All a part of memories now.

After 20 minutes or so, a motorcycle zooms by. The engine sounds like a single-cylinder with a good torque. A Ducati maybe?

A few minutes after the server delivers you a bottle of soju and you take a shot, you head to the bathroom to wash up and finally acknowledge the shame lingering in your appearance. When you emerge, passing by the bar, you’re stopped in your tracks by the face of the man who is the reason for that shame. Your heart pounds abnormally. He’s sitting a few barstools away from you, beanie gone, unveiling orange hair and roots that could use a touch up, with a black and white bandanna tied under his chin, like it was being used as a mask.

You gawk at him as he sips some clear liquor out of a glass and when he finally notices, he, for some reason, doesn’t look that surprised to see you.

“You again,” you scowl. “Who’s stalking who now?” He shrugs.

“This is a small island.”

Your eyes roll at his shit logic.

“Well, sorry to have ruined your whole ‘we’re never gonna see each other again’ bullshit.”

He doesn't reply, just frowns into his glass. Feeling hot all over, you stew as you stomp to your table to retrieve your wallet, fishing out a large bill that you slap on the counter once you return to the bar. The bartender comes over and you make a point of looking over at the prick while you say,

"His drinks are on me." You prolong your vengeful gaze on him, fighting your tongue when his jaw only clenches in response, and head back to your table in a huff.

You try to let it go and not sear holes through his back, instead focusing on your wonderful meal and full glass of soju. He can go to hell.

It seems that the universe has other plans in store when mid-bite, you feel a presence approach and you think it’s the server coming to check on you, but when you look up and the presence stops at your table, your heart skips at the musk that pummels your lungs and puts you in a chokehold. Because it’s the same one that enveloped you from behind not too long ago, strong enough to mask the stench of cleaning supplies. And the source of it places a familiar lone bill in front of you under a veiny, slender hand. He stares down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. Glancing at the bill, you make no move to acknowledge the fact that he didn't let you pay, even though you just won a bunch of his money.

What is this guy playing at?

"Take it."

"No," you shoot back, resuming your meal for an excuse not to look at him. 

He sighs and you think that's the end of it.

But then he drops onto the seat across from you. Your pulse flatlines when he glances at you, barely acknowledging you or your bewildered expression, and cards a hand through his hair, flipping his bangs away to showcase his forehead, clear of blemishes. Isn’t that fucking typical.

“Um, can I help you?”

“The kitchen’s closing soon and I want to order something,” he says casually as he gets comfortable.

“And you’re sitting at my table because? I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he replies, still not looking at you but at your bowl. “But all the other tables are full.”

You scoff and take a sweep of the restaurant, desperate to catch him in a lie - surely people have left and freed up spaces since you got here. Nope. The seat across from you was the only one empty. But why does he have to be the one who fills it?

“You could just go somewhere else.”

“It’s pouring out there.”

“Afraid you’ll melt?”

He flickers a small glare your way, then moves it behind you when the bell over the entrance announces a customer’s arrival. He’s acting indifferent, like he wasn’t just a complete dick, and you don’t know what to make of it.

“So does this mean you're done being an asshole to me now?”

“You think I should be nice or something?”

“That would be a start.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to be nice to strangers? Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

That draws a cloud over your head. “I’m sure she would’ve if she was ever around.”

He looks at you and you can see a smidge of his hostile demeanor fall away. Your attention drops to your lap, waiting for him to give the little pity party you’re used to people throwing you when they find out you have an absentee parent. But he doesn’t, just shifts in his seat and lets a little tension out of his shoulders.

“Yoongi.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you lift your head, thrown for a loop. “What?”

He shrugs, juts out his bottom lip in what you think is a pout. “You wanted my name, right?”

He looks shy and, dare you say, cute saying that. 

“Was that so hard? You know that makes us not strangers anymore,” you point out with a widening smile as he glowers at you.

You reach for the soju bottle but he leans forward and snatches it away. Puzzled, you withdraw your hand, but he gestures to your glass and mimes a pour. There’s uncertainty stitched between your brows as you pick up the glass and hold it out with two hands while he pours a shot. You can’t help but notice the scar etched in a jagged line across the back of his right hand turning the bottle, and you look away from it so you don’t gawk. But you’re curious.

Even though you don’t yet fully respect him, he is still 5 years older, so you turn to the side to knock the shot back. When you’re done, you silently offer to return the favor but he shakes his head, fills your glass once again and sets the bottle down, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, glancing between you and the table with a dart of his tongue over his bottom lip.

You stare at the liquor, tips of your fingers dancing around the rim of the glass as you debate how much of your sobriety you should hold onto for the night.

“You’re not drinking?” you ask after you down the shot, wiping your chin.

“I’m driving.”

“What were you drinking over there?”

“Water.” You hum in acknowledgement.

“Are you gonna eat?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“I thought that was the whole point of sitting at my table.”

“I changed my mind.” Liar. He’s been eyeing your bowl ever since he sat down.

“You’re a shit liar. No wonder I cleaned you out.”

He flips you off and you just sigh. A lost cause. You catch the scar on the back of his hand again, the skin raised but healed.

The atmosphere between you since his gesture has slowed things down, setting a new pace that’s strange but not entirely unwelcome. The liquor spreading warmth in your chest loosens your inhibitions, bringing forth your curiosity.

"What happened to your hand?”

"Bar fight,” he replies a little too quickly. You don't believe that.

"Some bar fight." He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm but then his attention flickers back with a tick of his eyebrows when you lower the collar of your sweater, exposing the skin just below your right shoulder that displays your own gash.

“I got this when I used to race during my first year at university.” You smirk when both his brows shoot up. “I was drifting and my component spun out and drove me off the road and I smashed into a guardrail. He was fine, but my windshield shattered and a big piece of glass just wedged in right here.” You press a finger against the very visible healed stitching. “It hurt like a motherfucker, dug into my bone and all that, but the scar came out pretty bad ass, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head with an amused expression, as if not expecting you to sound somewhat proud of your preventable injury.

“I’m sure you were smart enough to stop racing after that.”

“Yeah, but I still went to functions and stuff. And then one night, cops busted our spot and a bunch of us got arrested. I spent a couple days in jail because my brother had to come bail me out.” You pause to think about how irate Jin had been, flying halfway across the world to pay your bond, dragging Namjoon along to fight for you not to be charged. Jin chewed you out the entire time, about how dangerous that was and how you could’ve killed somebody and yourself. Of course you knew that, but you’ve always proved to be a damn good driver, only racing on empty roads after memorizing every wind, bump, and bend. You never let him see your scar because he would find a way to never let you see the light of day again. But then he made you transfer schools and you lost touch with your racing friends. You made sure your brothers never found out your accident didn't deter you from speed racing. You were just too good and made money off of it that you couldn't give up.

“And what was that you were saying earlier about being stuck alone somewhere with a felon?” He muses sarcastically, snapping you back to the present.

Glossing over that snide remark, you launch into another anecdote, regaling him in the story of the first time you ever raced when you lost horribly to your brother and he never let you live it down. And the time you were the getaway driver when your brother and your friends decided to add to the graffiti collection under a bridge near boarding school.

“I think you’re oversharing,” he intervenes when you bring your spiel to a close.

“Would you rather sit here and talk about the weather?”

“I’d rather not talk at all.” He looks down as soon as he says it and your eyes droop into a frown. Well, so much for that. Leave it to a guy to pull stupid shit like that.

“Right,” you mutter, leaning down to pick up your bags. “All I’m good for is a fuck.”

You get out your wallet and a large chunk of the cash that you won, leaving a sum for the bill on the table. As you rise, you fold a larger wad in half and slam it down next to his hands. He glances at it before dragging his gaze up to you, blinking a few times as you harshly stare him down. You sniff, swing your bag onto your shoulder, and turn your back on him.

“Stop.” You do and turn, slowly. “I know I’m an asshole, but I didn’t mean it like that, okay?”

Blinking at his response, you step up to his edge of the table. You tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate but when he doesn’t, a mildly disappointed sigh leaves your lungs.

“If that’s your idea of an apology…” He stares up as you hold him in suspense. “Then I’ll take what I can get.”

The tiny quirk of his lips has you plopping back in your seat, albeit a bit reluctant. As you set your bag back down, he slides the cash back over.

“Well, I’m not taking your money.” You frown.

“Then, at least order something to eat, I don’t mind treating. Unless you have that weird masculine thing where it’s offensive if a girl pays for food.”

A light smile threatens to break out on his face and you think it could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Nah, I’m never one to turn down a free meal.”

He finally orders and you try not to watch him eat, finding it endearing the way he rests his fingers holding chopsticks against his cheek while he chews. So you just return to quietly sipping your drink and watching the rain beat down on the pavement, illuminated by the street lamps. Occasionally, bumps rise on your skin like they did earlier when you feel his eyes on you. You just let him stare because it makes you feel warm.

The bowl slides to the middle of the table and Yoongi sits back with a satisfied sigh. You look over and smile, getting ready to tease him about his appetite but then the bell rings and his expression drops completely. He straightens in his seat, pulls the bandanna up over the lower half of his face and a dreadful feeling sinks into your gut when he grabs the chopsticks and holds them with a tight grip, veins popping and knuckles paling. You look over your shoulder, blood stirring with anxiety when you see a few men from the poker game heading straight for your table.

“Get your bag,” Yoongi mutters, shifting so his feet are turned to the side. Swallowing thickly, you bring up your backpack and wrap your arms across it, pressing it into your chest.

“So you decided to catch up to her before us. Well done, my friend,” the man says, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. A cold front moves in on the tips of your fingers, settles a tundra in your gut and freezes you in your seat when Yoongi doesn’t look at you, just stares at the man above him.

Was this all just a ruse? He was just keeping you here so his friends could come and mug you? You’re not that naive.

Right?

Just when you start to doubt all of your life choices, Yoongi smacks off the man’s hand, leans forward with his eyebrows furrowed at you.

“I’m not with them.” Your heart races as you look between them. For once, you feel backed into a corner.

“Yes, you are, pretty boy. Because if you’re not, then it seems to me that you both plotted to set us up and that means you’re both in trouble.”

“No one plotted anything. I’ve never met him before,” you declare, catching onto their lie, washed over with relief that you haven’t been duped.

“You just underestimated me and that’s not my fault.”

The man looks at you with an ugly lip curl.

“Oh, yes it is. You never should’ve been there in the first place, so hand me and my friends back our money and this all goes away. No one gets hurt.”

Yoongi’s jaw moves like he’s grinding his teeth. “That’s not what I heard,” he mutters.

Your clutch anxiously onto the sides of your backpack, not wanting to know what he means. You slowly reach under your chair to grab onto your duffle, ready to run at a moment’s notice.

The stranger bends down to lean towards you. “Give me the money. Now.”

“Get out of her face, man,” Yoongi spits, standing with a hand on his shoulder to push him back. You stand as well, holding tightly onto both of your bags as you look back at the door, but for all you know, there are more men out there waiting.

You jump when the man attempts to snatch your bag but promptly withdraws with a shout in pain, and you don’t expect to see Yoongi piercing his shoulder with the chopsticks. As your heart and mind race, he yanks the utensils with added red out, keeps them in his fist, and shoves back the two men who crowd him, sending them into the tables behind. Dishes crash and customers leap up in exclamations of surprise, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to push you away and get behind you, hand flattened on your spine to compel you in the direction of the kitchen.

He seizes your duffle bag so you have an easier time moving, and you both ignore the protesting shouts from the chefs and servers as you run through the hot kitchen. As you stumble outside, the rain cascades over you, and your heart stops for a moment when you realize you have no plan to escape. But then he wraps his free hand around your forearm, glancing up as more shouts echo from the restaurant. He pulls down the bandana. His face looks radiant in the blurred street lights.

“This way.”

You both take off down the block, and in the midst of the sprint, Yoongi slides down his hand to instead curl his fingers around your wrist and leads you across the street. It’s not the rain that makes you shiver.

The scent of the storm washes over you as your feet hit asphalt, a few honks blasting from cars you dart past. Yoongi puts himself between you and the vehicles that shout profanities at him and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you when he shouts right back and throws up a middle finger. You slide your hand into his palm to give him a good tug so he won’t end up in another squabble with an irate driver and he turns back to you. For some reason you’re smiling and when he looks at you, your heart pounds, but it could easily be mistaken for exertion. But when you spot the crinkle at the corners of his eyes that tells you he’s smiling too and your pulse skips a beat, you know it has nothing to do with running.

You have no idea where he’s taking you and it’s freeing. And nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You run until you reach the end of the block where a black Ducati motorcycle is parallel parked in between a stretch of cars and he picks up a matte black helmet from the seat and holds it out to you.

“Here, put this on. Hurry up.” The fiberglass is covered in droplets of rain. It means safety, but from this man who gave it to you? Who keeps confusing you?

A dilemma.

“Why did you come after me?”

“What?” he half-shouts over the loud pattering of downpour. “We don’t have time-”

You step up to stand face-to-face with him and he blinks confusion down at you, mouth open as his chest heaves, panting, orange hair darkened and drenched. You glance down at the chopsticks still trembling in his hand. Adrenaline. He snaps them in half and throws them into the street where they get carried into the storm drain.

It’s raining, but there’s a fire. You repeat your question, keeping the helmet down at your side so there’s not more than an inch between you. He holds your gaze - doesn’t blink or look away. Darkness surrounds you, but there’s none in his eyes.

“I just did.”

He gives no reason, so neither do you when you bunch the front of his soaked black crew-neck and yank him into you, into a kiss that will be seared into your mind like a core memory. He doesn’t lean into it for a split second, like you caught him off guard, but when he does, grabs the side of your face to take over and opens your mouth with his tongue like he’s always meant to taste you, it’s messy and desperate, teeth clacking and mouths moving uncoordinated. It’s the hungriest you’ve ever been kissed. Drinking in the rain, drinking in each other, the helmet slips from your fingers and you don’t notice for a second until he breaks away from your lips and holds it up to you.

“We gotta go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, regret taking over. He shakes his head and places the helmet into your hands. You frantically look over your shoulder where a few men are catching up, pointing their fingers and shouting as they spot you.

“Come on,” he urges and you slip on the helmet, facing back to see him swinging his leg over the bike and starting up the engine. He sits with your duffle slung around his neck in front of him, glancing back just as you slide behind him.

“Hold tight.” He barely gives you enough time to circle your arms around his waist before he kicks off the curb. The bike roars to life and he speeds it away from the pavement, taking off down the street and into the night. Full of possibilities. You rest your head between his shoulder blades, unable to see the way his fingers tighten around the handle bars. Staring off to the side, you watch the night go by, road illuminated by street lights filtered through the rain, and your heart hammers at the adventure of it all.

The engine still purrs when it comes to a stop, now far enough away from danger. The rain has reduced to a drizzle and your heartbeat thunders within the fiberglass. You flip up the visor so he can hear you marvel,

“You stabbed him.” For you. He stabbed a man for you. And you think that’s why you kissed him.

“I know.”

“That was fucking metal.” His chuckle travels through his chest, so you can feel it in your own.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“So, where you headed?” he asks once he comes to the next stoplight. The smell of salt wafts in the air, tell tale sign of the beach.

You laugh against his back and tighten your hold around him. His muscles tense up beneath you. At this point, you think you’d let him take you anywhere, but you’re feeling bad about the kiss.

“My hotel.”

“Do you know the directions? I’m not google maps.”“You don’t have to take me all the way there. Just drop me off at a bus stop, it’s around here somewhere.”

“Buses don’t run this late.” You know for a fact that they do, but you don’t want to dispute him. Especially if it means you can hold onto him like this for just a little longer. Damn. You hated him just a little bit ago. Crazy how fast things can change in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll take a cab then.”

A rev of the engine fills a pause. “It’s late.”

“What?” He clears his throat, talks over his shoulder.

“I said it’s late. And it’s raining. I’ll just drop you off.” A spread of heat in your chest makes this chilly night a bit bearable.

“I thought you’d be itching to get away from me.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” he mutters, hanging his head, sounding dismayed. Or bitter.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Trust me.”

“You just want gas money, huh?” He huffs and tosses his head back, strings of wet hair allowing you a glimpse of his undercut.

“Just give me the damn directions.”

All too soon, the venture comes to an end when he pulls into the lot of the beachfront hotel. Quietly, he parks and shuts off the engine and it takes you a second to come down from your rush and realize you’re still holding onto him when there’s no reason to anymore. You snap yourself out of your daze of wishful thinking that this night will never end and remove your arms, immediately missing his warmth and touch. A little too quickly you move off of the seat and he straightens as you stand, removing the helmet and you miss the way he watches you shake out your hair. When you meet his gaze, your heart starts racing again, butterflies multiplying beneath your diaphragm as he stares at you for a moment before glancing down to the helmet you hold out to him. He accepts it with a subtle nod and rests it in his lap while you internally panic, trying to find something not stupid to say so this whole ordeal with him doesn’t end.

“Well, thank you. I half-expected you to ditch me on the side of the road and take off with my money.”

He leans forward with a soft snort, resting his wrists on the center of the bars, and your heart starts to do gymnastics at the notion that he finds you amusing because it gives you hope that he’s interested enough to not leave yet.

“I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“No, but you’re pretty close.”

“And yet you got on my motorcycle.”

“You told me to trust you and I do.”

“You just said you expected me to ditch you and take your money.”

“Half-expected,” you emphasize. “There’s always room for doubt.”

Just the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile and you don’t want to see it leave.

“Speaking of room, do you have a place to stay?”

“Not around here,” he shakes his head, leaning back to stuff his hands in his jacket pockets. “But I have a friend across town who’ll let me crash, so I should probably get going.”

Tonight, with this man, has been an entire amusement park of emotions. From obscene attraction, to utter loathing, to being enlivened and now to just being plain disappointed. You don’t want to get off this ride just yet.

You squat down and drop your bag to the ground, digging into the front pocket for a pen and notepad. After you find one and rip out a page, you straighten and stride up to the bike without looking at him, writing down the number of your room. You fold it up once you’re done, passing it over, and he hesitates before accepting it.

“In case you change your mind,” you say, pointing at the page with your pen as you cap it. “Or if your friend doesn’t want a felon crashing on their couch.”

“And you wouldn’t mind a felon crashing with you?”

“I let a felon fuck me in a dirty closet. What do you think?”

He holds your stare for a moment before a subtle smile breaks on his otherwise unreadable expression.

“Well, that’s good to know,” he says, looks at the note for a second longer, then stuffs it in his jacket.

You sense an impending ‘but.’

“But-” For once, you hate being right. “I think I’ll be okay. You should head inside, it’s starting to rain again.”

Not knowing what else to do besides stare at the ground and contemplate if you should write down your number too, you awkwardly hold out your hand, and then upon realizing how weird that is, quickly change your mind and retract it. Embarrassment flooding your cheeks, you reach down to snatch up your bag and turn around. You don’t wave, don’t say anything because what else is there to do? You don’t want to say it was nice to meet him because you’re still trying to figure out if it was, nor do you want to say ‘see you’ because you’re not sure if you ever will after this. 

You don’t look back, and as you head towards the main entrance where you can pick up your room key, the sound of the motorcycle revving into gear echoes around you and it’s only when it disappears in the distance do you turn around, wishing you weren’t watching him go. More like you were still on the back.

.

.

.

thanks for reading!! let me know what you think! i love to yap!!

xxx - claret

p.s. i wrote the poker scene after watching a ten-minute wiki-how video on how to play texas hold 'em lmao

<<<previous chapter * next chapter>>>

@busanbby-jjk @lixies-favorite-cookie

taglist:

@rinkud @taegijns @viankiss @polarnightmyg @futuristicenemychaos

[demonpiratehuntress]

helloooo!!! can i ask strawhats reactions with a nakama reader who just LOVES doing her nails and every time they have a chill day she takes her sweet time doing it?

sure thing! :) sorry for the long wait, I've been busy with work, university and soccer, and it's been difficult for me to be online during Ramadan because of the fast and other things i have to do, but i hope you enjoy this!

taglist - @kabloswrld

manicure

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader

summary - the ask :)

warnings - none

ZORO

It's not often that the crew gets to take a day off and relax, but when you do you take full advantage of it. It's the only time you get to yourself, when you can do anything you want without having the other Straw Hats in your face all the time. Normally you stay in your room and do your nails, but today a certain swordsman was curious to know what you do on days off, so here he was in your room watching you.

"What's the point of that?" He deadpanned, watching the stroke of the paint-tipped brush over your nail.

You looked up at him, beaming, "It looks pretty!"

"It looks-" He sighed. "Okay."

Silence fell between you two again as you continued painting your nails, a (vibrant/dark) shade of (colour). You could tell that Zoro had more questions, probably about the necessity of your hobby, but you pointedly ignored him.

"Are you done yet?" His gruff voice rang out a few minutes later.

"Yes!" You grinned, holding up your hand, "With one hand!"

He groaned, rubbing his face, "This is boring."

"Well nobody said you had to be here, grumpy," you teased.

"i thought you'd do something more exciting. And fun."

"HEY," you protested, "This is fun! For me!"

The swordsman rolled his eyes, and you narrowed yours, "Maybe you should try it and see."

"No thanks."

"Then how about I paint yours too?"

"I can't think of anything I want less than that."

You pouted, but resumed painting your nails. When you were finished with your other hand, you turned to show Zoro proudly, only to find that he was fast asleep. You were disappointed for just a moment before smirking, realising that this was an opportunity for you.

So you painted his nails too, and then hid when he woke up.

LUFFY

Luffy gets bored when there's nothing for the crew to do. Unlike the rest of you, who enjoy the day off and take time to relax, he cannot sit still. He doesn't understand the concept of relaxing, because he's always bouncing off the walls and begging one of you to entertain him. Which is as difficult as it sounds, because he has the attention span of a goldfish.

"(Name), what do you do on days like this?"

You almost jumped out of your skin when the captain appeared at your shoulder suddenly. You dropped the small bottle of (colour) nail polish and watched as some dribbled out and onto your desk.

"Luffy!"

"Sorry," he apologised, but didn't sound like he was really sorry. Or look it, since he was grinning like the gremlin he was.

You sighed and picked the bottle up, cleaning the spilled polish, "I'm just doing my nails. Wanna watch?"

He nodded excitedly, curious about what that actually meant. When he saw you brush the paint on your nail, he oo'ed and ah'ed at the sight. To him it was fascinating how the colour settled on your nail when you finished painting.

But after a few fingers, he started to get bored and fidgety.

"(Name), how long is this going to take?"

"I still have the other hand, Luffy!" You laughed.

He pouted, but continued watching nonetheless. He was fascinated by how the colour stayed on your nails, and when you were done with both hands he jumped up excitedly.

"Now we can go do something more fun!" He grinned.

"No!" You shook your head. "I have to wait for it to dry, and then put another layer, and then wait for that to dry."

He groaned and sat back down, putting his chin in his palms like a little kid. He was going insane with boredom, and you were just happily sitting there painting your nails.

"If you want, Luffy, I can paint yours too."

He seemed thrilled by the idea, until he bounded out of your room to show the others as soon as you were done, and came back whining that it got smudged.

Sigh.

SANJI

This man is possible the only Straw Hat that could watch you do literally anything, no matter how long or how boring, without complaining. He is the only one who will be happy to sit with you for hours doing the most mundane things, because to him the time spent with you is worth it. So the minute you asked him for company, he didn't even let you finish before he was dragging you off to your room.

"Do you want to choose a colour?" You asked him, laughing as you showed him your assortment of nail polish colours.

He was more than happy to do that, and eagerly showed you a (bright/pastel) (colour) bottle. When you smiled and thanked him, he practically melted.

He's also the most patient of all of them. He doesn't mind that it takes forever to get just one hand done, nor does he mind that after you let it dry you have to apply another coat.

"How does it look?" You asked him, holding your hand up with a smile.

His answer is nothing short of what you expect, and he looks at your nails with heart eyes.

"It looks so pretty (Name)! Just like you!"

He might even offer to do it for you, and if you let him you find out that he's surprisingly good at it. Maybe even better than you. He takes longer, but that's because he wants it to be perfect for you. He honestly has no qualms about spending the entire day doing this with you, you will not hear a single complaint from him.

"Thanks, SanjI! Do you want me to do yours now?" You ask him teasingly, then get surprised when he eagerly holds out his hands for you to do whatever you want with. "Okay, which colour?"

And now that he knows you do this on every free day you guys get, he's at your door before you can even ask anyone if they want to choose a colour.

USOPP

Usopp knows what everyone does whenever the crew gets a day off. Everyone but you. You just slink off to your room with a smile and no one sees you for hours. Normally Usopp wouldn't think much of it, but as it happens more and more he gets curious to know what exactly you're doing. It also may be an excuse to get away from an overexcited Luffy who wants to tinker with his explosives.

He doesn't know how to feel about what he discovers.

"Usopp! Great!" You exclaim, pulling him into your room to show him what you were doing. "Would this colour look better, or this one?" You held up two different colours, confusing the poor sharpshooter.

"Look better for what?" He asked nervously, his first thought being that you wanted to paint something on a piece of paper.

"My nails!" You beam, showing him your bare nails. "Which colour matches my skin tone better, do you think?"

He blabbers out some kind of response, then points to the (colour) polish in your right hand. You smile and get to work, and he just stands there awkwardly until he sees you actually applying the paint on your nails.

"You just...paint your nails?" He asked, confused on how that would be fun.

"Yep!"

Deciding it was better than being bugged by Luffy, Usopp sat down and just watched you for a few minutes. That's how long it took for him to get bored, but he was too shy to say it.

"So this is why no one sees you for hours on our days off?" He asked, "The reason is way more boring than I thought it would be."

"Hey!" You protested, painting his nose (colour).

Usopp is in between Sanji and the other two. He's not very impatient, but he's not patient either. He will sit there and watch, and get bored, but he won't say anything about it until he either hears someone pass by or has had enough and pretends to cough and come up with another fake illness.

"You know, I have this rare disease called the-smell-is-killing-me-itis, it's pretty contagious so I should just-"

"Sit down," you interrupted him, "Cause I want to paint yours now."

"W-what?! No! Then I'll look like-I mean I'm allergic-"

"Sit down."

[whyareyoulookingatmelikethat]

[13]: Twirling Thread

(Longer than my usual stories.)

This took a while, heh. Sorry for the wait in regards of stories, writer's block has arrived at Destination Me.

Not sure if I'll do the rest of the characters, feeling pretty down. Maybe someday.

(Reader is the costume designer for the toons. The names above each paragraph of writing are the names of certain skins in the game.)

Boxten: “Cloudy Dream”

“Almost…almost…there!”

You sat up to lean back and look over your work.The prettiest shade of lavender dripped from a small paintbrush you held, a can of white as well close by.

“Okay, we can let it dry, and then you can take the tarp off. Don’t want your clothes to get paint on them too.”

He reached up gingerly to pat his face down as he normally would, but you grabbed his hand quickly, forcing it away.

“Boxten…”

“Sorry, sorry! It’s a habit…”

Poppy: “Sapphire Dots”

“You’re sure this isn't a bit tacky?”

“I don’t care if it's tacky, what matters is I’m wearing it, and I’m proud!”

“Being proud doesn’t hide a poor sense of fashion.”

“Y/N!!!”

Tisha: “Lavender Maid”

“And to top it all off…”

You brought out the item from behind your back and gave it to her.

“A brand new feather duster!”

She gasped in delight, and gently put it down, then hugged you.

“Oh my goodness, thank you so much! The old one I had was getting so dirty, and I can't really wash stuff like that…”

“Hehe, I’m excited to see you use it! Have fun!”

Finn: “Prismatic Pal”

“MORE SHINE! MORE!!”

“FINN THIS IS GETTING TO BE TOO MUCH-”

“THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS TOO MUCH SHINE, I WANT TO LOOK LIKE THE SUN!!!!”

“FINN YOU’RE ALREADY TOO BRIGHT FOR ME TO LOOK AT!!”

Razzle And Dazzle: “Seafoam”

“You’re doing a lot for us, you know. (Are you sure?)”

“Yes I’m sure! Besides, if you guys are going to perform sometime, you’ll need different outfits, right?”

“She’s got a point!” “(Alright then…but at least make it something simple.)”

“Aw, okay then. How does a mix of greens sound?”

“It won't be something like yellow-green, will it? (Yuck…)”

“Nope, more like turquoise.”

“Oooh, I’m excited to see how it looks! (Sounds pretty…)”

Cosmo: “Caramel Drizzle”

“I thought that maybe because you and Sprout are friends, you guys could have matching outfits! Whaddya say?”

“Really? Oh, yes please! That’s very sweet of you to think of us…”

“It’s not much really. Here, can you turn around so I can adjust your apron?”

Cosmo patiently did as you said, waiting as you secured the warm orange bow around his back. He only turned around again under your gentle pulling motions so you could smooth out his apron.

“And…this might be a bit hot, but please bear with me. It’s caramel after all.”

You took the bottle from the stand next to you, making a quick drizzle motion so it lined perfectly on top of his head.

You poured a little sauce on your hand to dab on his cheeks, then wiped your hands off and leaned down to get the perfect angle to place the stars in, sticking your tongue out as you worked.

He didn’t tear up or hiss at how hot it is though, he seemed to let out a sigh and…melt?

…He actually looked pretty content.

“Warm…”

I guess that confirms it.

Flutter: “Vibrant Monarch”

“Be still, I’m almost done.”

Flutter nervously flapped her wings, slapping you in the face every so often and nearly knocking you out of your chair.

“Please Flutter, the paint will be blurry and won’t look good if you keep moving.”

“...!!!”

“I know you don’t like standing, but you need to right now! You can fly all you want when I’m done.”

“...!”

“Thank you.”

She lightly tapped the floor with her foot as if testing the waters, flinching every so often, before she set both feet on the ground and stood stiffly, anxiously waiting for you to finish.

Goob: “Special Spaghetti”

“I want to commit cannibalism on myself.”

“What-”

Goob: “Fun Partygoer”

“Ooooooh, I get a party hat too??”

“Yes you do Goob, let- let me- adjust it please-! Please stOp BOunCIng!“

“Sorry, I’m just so excited to see how I look!”

“I get it I get it, but pleas-!”

The party hat crumpled under a particularly high jump.

“...”

“...”

You sat down, head in your hands and started crying.

“WAIT NONONO Y/N I-!”

Glisten: “Warm Sweater”

(Based off my opinion! I love blue and white, but THE MAKEUP RAAAAA-)

“I still think the eyeshadow is a bit much.”

“Well, I don’t!”

“But you say you look good no matter what you wear, right…?”

“...Yes…”

“So you shouldn’t have a problem with no eyeshadow because it’ll look just as good!”

“But I- you-!”

“End of conversation.”

(Glisten somehow convinced you to give him back his makeup)

Gigi: “Rainy Day”

“But I don’t waaaaaannaaaaa!”

“Gigi, it’s still an oversized sweater. You’re basically just changing the color of it and adding some drawstrings, okay?”

“Noooooooooo…but…b-but…”

“Yeah I know what a butt is, you have one yourself. Now give me that―”

You yanked the sweater out of her hands, cutting yourself off as you stumbled back, “―Thank you!”

Quickly checking for rips and finding nothing, you let out a sigh of relief, then immediately raised your hand in the air to avoid her grabbing ones.

“Nooooooo, gimme it back!”

You sighed again, walking over to the dresser―well, as best you could with a whiny Gigi trying to trip you― and pulled out a yellow sweater with a hood.

Placing her old clothes on a high shelf so she couldn’t reach it, you turned and picked her up, setting her down to sit on the edge of the dresser and pulled the yellow sweater over her head.

Her crying instantly stopped and she snuggled down into it, content. You let out another(she’s a handful to deal with) sigh and sat down next to her, petting her head.

Sprout: “Salted Caramel”

“And you’re sure that you’ll be fine?”

“Yes, Y/n! Now just do it!”

You hesitantly poured the bucket of caramel on him, covering half of his face bit by bit while also making sure not to get the petals wet.

You let out a sigh of relief as the last drop dripped from the container, making a quiet plip sound as it joined the rest of the warm sauce.

The rest of it settled on the tarp below, collecting in a puddle that stained his feet orange. You’d have to clean him later.

He reached up a hand, messing with the caramel on his face before you slapped his hand away.

“No! I’ll have to put a new coating on you if you mess with it.”

He simply chuckled in response, “Not like I’d mind.”

Vee: “Cosmic Signal”

You sighed in relief as you checked over her mic, making sure there weren’t any scratches.

“Okay…finally done. Oof, that took a lot out of me.”

“I can tell. Making 25 different costumes that actually look good isn’t exactly an easy job.”

You perked up upon hearing this.

“So you DO like Scraps' costume!”

“What!? I-”

“I’m joking, I already know.”

She just glared at you and looked to the side.

[hunnylagoon]

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 4: The Sweetest Thing to Ever Scare You (Finale)

Ellie Williams x reader

I remember when I first saw you. I remember looking into your warm almond eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach. But soon, when I looked into your eyes, I no longer felt the same warmth that I once knew. It felt as though you had killed all of the butterflies inside my stomach but yet, I still loved you.

Premise: You and Ellie are childhood best friends until you drift apart. Funny thing about soulmates is they tend to find their way back to each other. You and Ellie try to end the tireless war between you.

Warnings: Angst / drinking / violence / not really religious mentions in this one

Part one here!

Part two here!

Part three over here!

Guys I thought I posted this two days ago but I actually just saved it to drafts. Sorry for being an idiot lmao

I think that I have unlearned how to love.

That’s not even a word but there is no other way to tell you that I have turned myself cold.

Without partying to distract me and religion to fill in gaps of emptiness, I isolate myself and begin to write once again. I'm almost certain that my body has been telling me to write, that I need to pour myself into art as opposed to a girl I was friends with a million years ago.

I figure that I need to create rather than destroy but it might take me a while to do so.

The morning after I abandoned my faith on the church floor, I had woken up and expected Ellie to be gone, however, she was wide awake and playing subway surfers on her phone. Her hair is messy and her eyes are half-lidded. 

She turns to look at me when she feels the shuffling of the bedsheets; despite her doing nothing more than smile at me it is like an understanding passed between us, war is over.

Almost.

It's like I've forgotten how to be soft, I can't manage to get the words out that I need to, and the thought of it alone makes me cringe. "Breakfast?" I ask, unsure of what else to say.

Ellie passes on it and I awkwardly excuse myself, saying that I got called in to take a brunch shift at work. Of course, this is not true. What I do is get into my car and drive and drive until I get mad at myself for burning gas. 

The war between Ellie and I had ended but it didn't register in my head, I almost fell in love with it. Without the constant arguing and passive aggressiveness, there was nothing to put a wall between us and I wasn't ready to be vulnerable again. 

So I begin to feed Ellie the ugliest parts of me; I show her everything I'm sure she will hate but she doesn't, she's patient and shows me the kindness I have been looking everywhere for. Still, I am cold to her, I don't know what else to do. 

I try to push her away all over again but this time, she doesn't let me. Ellie comes into my room when I'm studying to sit on my bed so that she can be in proximity to me. Sometimes she'll ask me if I want to go for a walk or a late-night gas station run, all of the things we used to do.

When I'm angry at her, she lets it happen, she won't escalate the fight all she does is apologize and does what she can to fix it. Everything feels like it's in order again, Joel even starts to send me little text messages to check in on me and sends me Facebook memes that make him think of me.

As of now, we are setting up for Dina's twenty-first birthday. The living room, typically a space for casual gatherings and movie nights, had undergone a transformation. Vibrant streamers adorned the walls, and an array of balloons in assorted hues scattered themselves along the floor "Are balloons too childish?" Abby asks as she walks out of her bedroom.

"They better not be after I just spent half an hour doing all of these," Cat answers, giving her a scornful glare.

"They look great, Cat," I smile and give her a thumbs-up from where I am in the kitchen dumping bags of chips into bowls. "Should I make a veggie platter?"

Cat furrows her eyebrows "If you can finish it by yourself, sure."

"Cat, we aren't children, adults eat vegetables," Abby takes a seat on the couch behind Cat, investigating the hard work she's put into making the living room look nice for just one night "Isn't it weird that Dina is organizing her own surprise party?"

I shrug, placing a wooden cutting board down on the kitchen counter "I don't blame her, I don't think we've always been one hundred percent reliable, me specifically."

"But it's not a surprise if she knows about it."

"So?" Cat asks.

"So why are we calling it a surprise party if it isn't a surprise?"

"Why not?"

"Well, why can't we just call it a party?"

"I don't think it matters," I cut in, I begin to peel carrots and slice them up into quarters. Ellie comes out of her bedroom, she took a nap after completing her physics presentation, her hair in a messy bun, and she's in her typical pyjama uniform of sweats and a hoodie. "Hey, Ellie," I smile at her.

She rubs some sleep away from her green eyes "Hey," Ellie walks over to the kitchen island where I slice and chop vegetables and sits right in front of me. Even half asleep she looks like a statue of marble carved by a skilled hand.

Abby raises an eyebrow, asking 'When did you guys become friends?' without saying it and then it hits me like the plane in Lost. Ellie still hasn't told anyone about our history, our sixteen years of friendship is invisible to the eyes of those who think they know us well.

I'm broken from my thoughts when Abby speaks up "When are you picking up the cake?"

My heart drops "I'm not?"

Cat and Abby cast one another side glances while Ellie snatches a cucumber off my cutting board "Dina was handing out duties and you said you would take care of the cake."

I freeze, unsure of what to say "Nuh-uh." I shake my head like a child denying blame for breaking her mother's favourite dish.

"Yuh-huh," Cat shoots back. "How could you forget that?"

My mind fumbles for an excuse and somehow I land on "I forgot because I went temporarily insane from Lyme disease," What am I saying? "I got Lyme disease because I go camping in secret," I don't camp "And I never told you guys that I go camping because I'm deeply ashamed of it."

Now everyone looks perpetually confused, Ellie included "What are you talking about?" Abby asks, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay-well," I place my knife flat on the counter by the wooden cutting board, ignoring the odd spiel I just went on "I'm going to drive to-

"You dropped your car off for a suspension repair yesterday," Abby reminds me.

"Ellie is going to drive me to get a cake," I correct myself "I will be back to finish making my veggie plate." I quickly rinse my hands before grabbing Ellie's keys from the little jewelry dish on the island and yank the sleeve of her hoodie to pull her along.

Ellie doesn't say anything, she slips into some Crocs and we walk outside to her car. "Where are we headed?"

"Uh, hang on," In Ellie's passenger seat, I go on Google Maps to look up the closest bakeries that are still open at this hour, there are two, one a couple of streets away and the other one is across town and closing in twenty minutes. "Infectious Confections," I wrinkle my nose "That's a weird fucking name."

While Ellie tries to make conversation in the car I only speak when giving her directions to the bakery. She knows something is up and I can tell by the way she keeps glancing at me. I just can't manage to get it out of my head that she's still keeping me a secret. 

She pulls up to the bakery and I get out before she even turns her car off, she pulls the keys out of the ignition and trails behind me through the doors.

The bakery itself was rustic and clean, there were two display cases and tills one of the displays held danishes, croissants, cookies, scones and whatever those little swirly flakey things are called. The other display had a big chalk menu above it that read 'Cakery' Though what was in the display case was very sparse.  

"Hi," I walk up to the till, putting on the friendly smile and customer service voice that I usually only use at work. "This is pretty short notice but I was wondering if you had any cakes left or if I could get one made for today?"

The guy behind the counter is a scrawny teenager who looks like he has had a long enough day of dealing with annoying customers "We close in half an hour, there's not enough time to bake and decorate a cake." He explains it like he's said this to a million people, he's bored of the same phrases that his manager has scripted out for him.

"Any shot that someone didn't pick up their cake?" I ask, fingers crossed in the hope that he says yes.

"Let me talk to my manager," His voice drags on, and he turns around and disappears through a commercial kitchen door. I wait patiently, hands balled together in front of me as I rock back and forth on my heels. A minute or two later he comes back holding a bright blue cake with pink detailing of bows and mustaches, there's text on it that reads 'It's a...' gender reveal cake. "This is all we have left, they cancelled last minute.

I look back at Ellie to get her opinion, her eyebrows are furrowed slightly "Maybe we good just get some of those cupcakes and smush them together and smear the icing so it looks like a cake."

I wave her off "I'll buy it," I say this only because it is 5:41 and with each passing minute I am growing desperate, also I don't want Jesse to be disappointed that I fumbled the cake and ruined his girlfriend's birthday.

Angsty teenager puts the bright blue monstrosity into a cake box and charges me an absurd total for it, I bitterly tap my card on the machine. 

As I walk back out to Ellie's car I take a brief moment to look at the sky, it's the same hue as cotton candy and looks as if it had been projected from a watercolour painting, even after I get back into the car and Ellie begins to blast her old dad rock songs, I can't tear my eyes away from it.

After five minutes of silence from my end, Ellie finally asks the question that's been burning into the forefront of her brain "Why are you being weird?"

"Why haven't you told anyone that we met before we moved in together?"

Her dark eyebrows furrow "You haven't told anyone either-

"Yes, I have."

"Who?"

"Yara, Stacy, Kayla, Mitch, Nigel, Carmen, literally everyone from my work," I admit "I just haven't told people who know you personally so it can't make its way back to you because you clearly don't want people to know."

She falls silent, searching her mind for the right words. She clutches the steering wheel tight and looks dead ahead at the car's bumper-to-bumper ahead of us. "I just know how to slip it into conversation."

"I don't think it's that hard, you can just say that we were friends, you don't need to give an intricate play-by-play of everything that happened."

"Why is it important that people know if we're cool again?"

I turn my head to slowly look at her "You are the one who always said 'If we don't have honesty, we have nothing at all'," I point out.

Silence strings between us again, I almost want to throw up.

'We're cool again' Nope, not anymore, we are so very far from cool. Instead of Ellie casting me little glances as she had on the ride there, she ignores my presence almost completely while I glare daggers at her. Was she embarrassed by me? When we went to lunch together why did she lie to Dina about where she was? When she slept in my bed why did Cat ask me if I knew why Ellie came home at eight AM with nothing, not even a key? Did she crawl through my bedroom window to walk around to the front door and pretend she was just getting home?

AND WHY DIDN'T I CALL HER OUT?

She was keeping me a secret and that realization hurt worse than any injury I had ever suffered. She hasn't even told her dead who practically raised me that we lived together. 

God, we weren't even anything and she was keeping me under wraps like I was some disgraceful secret that she would get shamed for holding. The very second she approached our house, I got out of her car, she hadn't even stopped it completely but cake in hand, I hopped out of her car door and didn't look back.

I think I've had my fair share of partying.

After that month-long bender I had where I went to clubs every night and replaced food with vodka, I never wanted to even look at another solo cup full of liquor. Instead of drinking, smoking, or doing karaoke, I hide from Ellie.

I hide from her in conversations and sometimes sneak into my bedroom just to get a bit of breathing room from all of the strangers in my house. Wherever Ellie was, I was not. If she was outside, I was inside, if she was in the living room, I was in the kitchen enjoying my veggie platter. 

Have you ever been the only sober person around in a group of people? If the answer is no, have you ever babysat a houseful of toddlers? Because it's just about the same thing.

When I'm not hiding from the girl who wriggled her way back into my good graces just to trip herself off the podium, I'm cleaning up, protecting our furniture, holding back hair as girls I've never met sob into the toilet, and stopping the drunk from doing stupid things. 

"Hey, buddy," I take my can of hairspray that this frat-adjacent man is holding behind an ignited lighter "I don't think you would look good as a burn victim," His friends moan in disappointment as I do so, they were very excited to see a makeshift flamethrower; I wasn't in the mood to have my house burn down, or have a guy with peach fuzz waste my thirty dollar hair spray. 

Thirty dollars?

Note to self for later: Make smarter spending choices (And smarter relationship choices!).

I felt a tap on my shoulder only to turn around and see Dina, she wasn't drunk, just tipsy "Smile!" She holds up a camera to her eye and clicks the shudder button before I even have a chance to react the flash goes off. A large Polaroid begins to print out, Dina snatches it and shakes it until you can see my silhouette, my eyes are wide, my hair flying behind me from the quick turn of my head and I'm holding a can of hairspray angled to look like I'm going to spray the camera with it "Cute!" She smiles, tucking it into her pocket for later "Wait, I want a group picture of the roommates."

Dina takes my hand and pulls me to one of the couches where Ellie and Abby sit with some guy, she shoes him to get up and drags Cat over to replace him, she stands me in between Ellie and Abby and lightly pushes me down to sit wedged between the two.

"Jesse, please do not do me dirty with this picture," She hands the pink Polaroid camera to her boyfriend and quickly ushers herself to the far left of the couch where she bends over to kiss Cat on the cheek for the picture. Ellie and I are stiff and awkward when the flash goes off. 

After the picture is taken, Ellue turns to face me just the slightest "Hey, I think we should talk-

"I think it's time for cake!" I push myself off the couch and usher myself to the kitchen. 

I pull the cake out of the fridge, looking at what I had done to salvage it; Below the part that said 'It's a...' I wrote '21 year old!' in chocolate pre-made Betty Crocker icing that I had in the fridge for months, it didn't look the best, but it could've been worse.

Dina, of course, cackles when she sees it. To her, it is the funniest thing she's seen all night. I stick the candles in and light it with the light I confiscated from peach fuzz frat boy and push the cake towards Dina after tucking the light back into my pocket, she is illuminated in the glow of iPhone flash all filming her.

"Make a wish!"

Age Sixteen- Grade 11

I think back to how embarrassing it felt to be thoughtful.

How fragile I felt when I would share my feelings and how frail I seem when I do it now. Ellie was always tougher than I was, in rugby, in fights, just in general. That's why I figured she would be taking it better than me when I cut contact, once again I have been proven wrong.

"Conner, can we please just leave?" I pleaded with my then-boyfriend. The night had started fine but after a couple of drinks Ellie and I were becoming increasingly hostile to one another, it wasn't my intention to speak to her but the universe forced my hand when we were shoved into a circle of our friends and made to converse around the bonfire at the beach.

The salty breeze carried the sounds of laughter and the gentle crashing of waves, the scent of roasted marshmallows wafted through the air.

 "What, you need your boyfriend's permission or something?" Ellie held a can of berry blast Smirnoff, staring into my soul from the other side of the fire, the sparks glitter through the night like fireflies. Her words don't feel too bad but they don't feel too good either.

I cast her a glare before I looked back to my boyfriend "Please?" 

He is getting perpetually annoyed with me he shrugs away from my grasp, "Fuck off, we just got here," He mutters, Conner must think I couldn't hear it. He had already downed three Bud lights and a couple of shots of cheap vodka, now he is nursing another beer in hand. 

"Excuse me?" I say, narrowing my eyes. Everyone around the fire pauses their conversation to tune into mine. "Come on," I stand up and try to pull him along so we can have a conversation away from the prying eyes of our friends.

I can't pull the mass of the 6'2 quarterback along with me but he obliges and follows me where I yank him. As I drag him along the rest of the group giggle and makes jokes along the lines of 'Trouble in paradise' but Ellie is the only one who doesn't jump back into mindless conversation, her unnerving eyes are still on me while I chew my boyfriend out by the shoreline. 

"Why do I have to leave just because you're feeling a little bummed out?" 

I'm almost floored at out someone can lack so much empathy "Because you're my boyfriend?" I can feel myself tensing up.

"Why does that mean you can't get up and leave on your own?" He defends "You begged me to come here and now I just wanna down a couple of beers and hang out with my friends."

"You've already drank like twenty!" I retort.

"It's a fucking party!" Conner says, raising his voice "It's a party and it's summer and you're seriously trying to tell me not to have fun?"

"Fuck!" I shout in frustration "Why don't you ever call me? Why can't you ever let me in?" The argument is quickly escalating "Why didn't you tell me that you kissed Tamar and why haven't you told me that you love me?"

"Because I don't."

My words fail me. I knew he didn't, I knew that he hardly even liked me. My dad had thought so highly of him, she said he was the type of guy to rescue a baby from a burning building but as I look at him now, I figure that he eats babies.

I almost open my mouth to say something different, almost, but I don't. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I didn't, I might've been able to salvage the rotting corpse of my relationship with Ellie but I didn't. "Fine," I say, voice calm and quiet "Let's stay."

Before that night I had never really gotten drunk but the second I got back to the bonfire, I was digging through the cooler and shotgunning canned Smirnoff. "Woah," Riley laughs "Someone's finally being a bad influence."

I got myself so shit-faced that when everyone else got up to dance to the music blaring through the Bluetooth speaker, I sat by myself at the shoreline, looking bitterly out towards to ocean while the tides crash at my feet and get sucked back into the ocean. For a moment I think about jumping in and letting my lax body get washed away and sink beneath the surface until I wash up as a water-bloated corpse that some nine-year-old will find when they're beach combing.

My mouth tastes like peroxide and blood, my lungs burn with a red-hot pain. The wind is becoming increasingly harsh and I ignore the hair that is tangled into my golden hoop earrings.

"Wow, you look awful," I don't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Can you just fuck off?" I say "I don't give a shit about you, just leave me alone."

She always had to antagonize me, Ellie went out of her way to stray from the group and bother me. It had something to do with the alcohol in her system. Despite her alleged hatred for me, she takes a seat next to me regardless.

"Fuck, you're so sensitive," She scoffs "I don't know why you're dating him, I'm not even sure why you'd want to fuck him unless you're too lazy to jerk off-

My hands think before my head and I deck Ellie right in the side of her face, getting a solid hit to her cheekbone. My hand flies over my mouth "I'm sorry, I-

Ellie doesn't waste any time in lunging back at me, she pushes me down by my shoulders until my back is in the shallow of the water that moments ago just splashed at my feet and takes a swing. The impact of her punch almost knocks me sober.

I take a sharp inhale, grabbing her elbows and pulling her down to where she was the one on her back and I was the one straddling her. I land one last blow to her nose, I hear a crunch and the panic immediately sends me scrambling to my feet. My eyes go wide at the blood dripping down, her face I turn to run but Ellie is faster, she grabs me by my hair and yanks me down further into the water with her. 

"Fucking cunt!" I cry, though my scream is drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud tides crashing on the shore "Get the fuck off me!" 

Ellie is better at fighting than I am, I had never been on this side of her before, usually, I had been the one to drag her away from fights but now I am the one who is going to stumble home numb from the devastating pain.

Frankly, I'm fucking scared.

She continues to drag me by my hair until I'm knee-deep in the water with her, she almost throws her entire weight into me, dunking me beneath the surface where her bony hands snake around my neck. My eyes have gone blurry with the salt water, they sting and burn. I can't see anything, all I can do is uselessly thrash beneath her. My hands push against her face, trying to pry her off my body. 

Eventually, I manage to claw her face with my fingernails, I dig deep enough that it breaks skin and she recoils just enough for me to knee her in the stomach and let me get out from under her. Just as I try to slip away she reaches for my hair again, but instead of tugging on my hair, she rips out my gold hoop earring. I screech out in agony, hand reaching for where the metal sliced through the lobe of my ear, I shudder in pain; my cries are now jagged and harsh.

This is the exact moment Ellie begins to regret what she's done. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." Her tone softens and she tries to approach me but I back away from her like a frightened dog.

"Get away from me!" Despite the pain surging in my body, I find the strength in me to hit her again, she staggers back tripping into the water. I hit her so hard that I feel a crack in my knuckle and I yelp out in the immediate shock of pain. 

I wasn't sure when the others had noticed this was happening probably because my vision had gone blurry from salt water and adrenaline but before Ellie could hit me again, she was being restrained by Riley and Kennedy while some guy who I had probably had two conversations with dragged my back to shore.

I keel over on my hands and knees and begin to start retching onto the sand. Laila rubs a gentle hand on my back, my hair sticking wet on my forehead. A seagull, disturbed by the commotion, took flight, its wings cutting through the charged air. 

Next to the pile of vomit I just heaved, blood drips down from my ear, pooling and then soaking into the sand. My neck swells from what is still the raw sensation of Ellie closing her hands around it. 

I look up at Ellie, there is blood that has dripped its way into her mouth, clinging to her white teeth. She has what almost looks like a cat scratch running down her cheek, blood begins to prick and spill from the lacerations.

She stares back at me and we don't say a word but we understand each other clearly, I never want to see you again.

"Let's go," Ellie grabs my arm as Dina begins to slice the cake "We're gonna fix this right now."

"Ellie, there are so many people here," I say in a hushed tone so people can't hear me.

"I don't mean here," She looks at me, face expressionless "Just get in my car."

"Excuse me?" I say, tone accusing "Did you just order me to get in your car?"

"Fuck," She sighs, dropping my wrist to rub her hands down her face "Please can you get in my car so we can work this through."

"There's nothing to work through," I retort "You're embarrassed by me or you still secretly hate me and that's fine, I meant what I said on winter break about the lease, the second it's up, I'm getting the fuck out of here."

"What? No, don't- just," She takes a breath, reevaluating what to say "I have a point to make but I can't make it unless you get in my car."

We stare at each other for a moment, I narrow my eyes and she is still unmoving. Every scenario runs through my head of what could be waiting for me in that car.

"Fine."

I sit silently in her passenger seat, my knees are pulled into my chest and I rest my chin on them. Ellie doesn't say anything either as she drives. I watch each traffic light pass me, every street name to try and make sense of where we are going.

I almost feel like I'm going to suffocate beneath the silence of everything going left unsaid.

When I spot the boardwalk up ahead, I know exactly where she's taking me "Ellie, why are we at the beach?" I give her a side glance "Do I need to take out my earrings?"

Heat rises to her cheeks when I say this, "Not yet," She jokes, getting out of her car and grabbing a tote bag from the back seat, and I follow in tow.

We walk past the boardwalk and onto the sandy beach, I'm already not feeling whatever she's doing; there is sand filling up my Converse and a slight wind chill, I'm really wishing I had a hoodie right now. "Can you tell me what we're doing yet?" I'm hugging myself in an attempt to stay warm "If we're still walking on the beach why couldn't we have just walked on the boardwalk instead? It literally has walk in the name." I'm already going off on one of my tangents.

She still walking ahead of me but she briefly turns around to face me "Can you just stop asking questions for a minute?"

"Okay, whatever," I mutter, trailing behind her still. I can hardly see in the night, the only light to guide us is the moon and the warm ceiling lamps from restaurants along the boardwalk. I can vaguely see Ellie's silhouette, she's outlined by the gentle glow radiating off the moon, I try my best not to stumble over things poking out of the sand that have been lost to sight by darkness. 

"Okay," Ellie stops, "Here we are."

"Where are we?" I ask "I can't see shit, I don't know where here is."

Ellie digs around in her pocket for her phone and turns on a flashlight and it reveals a small iron firepit that was cemented into a slab of concrete in the sand. She hands me her phone so I can keep the flash on her and she can see what she's doing. 

She pulls out some pages ripped out from her notebook "Can you hand me your lighter?"

My eyebrows furrowed, and I felt around in my pocket wondering if I even had one. I did, it had slipped my mind that I still had the bic lighter that I confiscated from Peach Fuzz. I hand the lighter to her and watch as she tucks the pages beneath logs that were in the firepit before we arrive, they are somewhat charred but still viable.

She flicks the lighter to ignite it and the paper catches immediately. The initial flicker grew into a tentative blaze, licking at the edges of the kindling. The crackling sound echoed through the night. 

Once she is sure the fire can survive without her feeding it, she steps away. "Alright, let's have it out."

"Like sex?" I scrunch up my nose.

"Oh my god, no, like let's talk this through." She pinches her nose bridge, taking a breath in before exhaling and putting her hand back down "We're gonna recreate the night of the bonfire how it should've been," Ellie reached back into her bag and pulled out two white claws "I snagged these from Dina's party, sorry this was kind of last minute."

I can't help the smile that grows on my face, I take one of the white claws and crack it open "I don't know how authentic this is gonna be if there isn't any canned Smirnoff."

I think back to exactly how that night played out and I take a seat on the sand, facing the crashing dark ocean. I sip my white claw, as expected Ellie takes a seat next to me, just what happened on the actual night.

"Wow," She says "You look really pretty and I'm an idiot for ever saying you looked awful," Ellie looks gorgeous illuminated by the orange light of the fire, and the breeze causes her flyaway hairs to drift in the wind. "I'm an asshole for pretending that I didn't know you, I was scared I would get hurt again and take it to heart like I did last time. I promise the second we get home that I'll come clean."

I don't know if I can deal with this sugary philosophy. She's being so sweet that it's rotting my teeth.

"Ellie," I say gathering my thoughts, it was so hard being honest with my feelings, it felt like I would get hospitalized if I showed any emotion. "I was so in love with you in high school that it killed me, and I was terrified that my parents would throw me out well, they did- but that's why I pushed you away and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret it." 

The surprise on her face morphs into a soft smile "What about now?" she asks "Do you still love me?"

I shrug, it's honest "I dunno, but I think there's room to try."

She looks from me to the ocean and the way the moonlight glitters off the surface "What happened next?" Ellie toys with the tab of her drink "Did you hit me?"

"Yeah," I say softly, following her gaze out to the waters "But if we're doing the night how it should've been, I'd rather just kiss you."

Ellie turns her head back to look at me. She shoves her white claw into the sand then takes my face into one of her hands and kisses me like it's her job, so tender and carefully like she's afraid I will break beneath pressure.

How weak have I become? My heart is so full of her that I can hardly call it my own.

A/N: Be grateful for this ending because I was very tempted to give you guys an unhappy one. Sorry that I forgot to post this lol, I’m sad this series is over but excited to show you all my next one which may be the angst-iest yet 👀

Thanks for reading!

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[lovebunnie]

Viktor did not know the first time he wanted to kiss Jayce.

It was hard to keep track of all the moments because of just how many there were. Jayce was a very easy person to want to kiss, with his handsome looks and incredible mind, paired with a strong work ethic and kind heart. Viktor suspected almost everyone Jayce met in his life had wanted to kiss him atleast once.

Jayce did not seem too interested in this fact, based on the amount of time he spent in the lab right next to Viktor. Their partnership did not allow for many relationships outside of a scientific purpose; it just so happened that Viktor really liked Jayce not only as a partner but also in general, just as a person.

So really, there were far too many times to count where he felt compelled to grasp his face in his hands and press their lips together. Some nights, Viktor would imagine Jayce running into the lab with great news of a secured deal or more grant money and just plant one right on his lips without thinking, before dashing to his desk while still chirping and leaving Viktor gasping.

He thought of a scenario where he found himself in the forge one night, just the two of them in the entire building, and like something out of a trashy novel, a shirtless and sweaty Jayce would pull him in by his hips and kiss him slowly and sensually before the rest of the daydream turned into something... else.

Once Viktor and Jayce were in the midst of a heated argument about how to conduct an experiment with or without proper precautions in place, and Jayce stood up and walked towards Viktor. He thought in that moment that Jayce was going to find a less conventional way of shutting him up and before he could articulate if that would've worked or pissed him off even further, Jayce had walked out the door. The next day he came back with an apology and they moved on stronger than before.

Viktor was almost embarrassed by how badly he wanted to kiss Jayce. He thought of how much he wanted to know just how Jayce would kiss, he wanted to see that side of Jayce and keep it all to himself. Viktor had Jayce in the lab but he wanted more.

When it happened, VIktor and Jayce were on long night number six. Days had passed since either of them had left the lab longer than it took to take a shower and brush their teeth. They could feel the edges of discovery brushing their fingertips, so close to a revelation.

"Only Piltovians would get bored of the ability for humans to fly," Viktor murmured as he adjusted a screw on the bottom of their anti-gravity contraption. "Why they needed something portable is beyond me."

"Now is kind of a bad time to start complaining, V," Jayce replied as he worked on finalizing the welding components. "This is going to work this time, it has to work-"

"It will work," Viktor emphasized. "And if it doesn't, we try again."

"If it doesn't I'm cracking open that bottle of wine I know you keep-"

Suddenly, the room was flooded with vibrant blue that had the both of them scrambling backwards. While before, the hexcrystals made the entire room weightless, now everything remained as it was with only Viktor's wrench floating in the middle, suspended in mid air. It was flying. It worked.

Jayce picked himself off the ground where he has fallen back and pushed his goggle up to his forehead. "Holy shit, V, it worked!"

Viktor removed his goggles as well, mesmerized by the suspension of an object isolated within their own chamber. The blue of the hexcrystal had died down and left the room in a cool glow, and Viktor felt a smile tug at his lips. "This is.. incredible."

"Oh my god, it actually finally worked. I need to write down everything we did, what kind of screws did you use? What is the temperature of the room, what runes did we use?"

As Jayce rambled on, Viktor stood up and took in his frantic energy. His hands were moving quickly and his eyes were searching for his notebook while he paced the room like he couldn't sit down. His hair was disheveled from the times he ran his hand through it in frustration and his eye bags were getting more and more pronounced. His face was leaner and exhaustion draped over him like a blanket. Objectively, Jayce looked kind of like shit.

Viktor felt a spark in his chest, he couldn't look away.

When Jayce made his way back in front of Viktor, he smiled warmly. "This is such a huge relief, I was really starting to get concerned that we were going to have to completely start over, but now we can start with trials and-"

As Jayce spoke, the spark grew and grew until Viktor could ignore it no longer. He pulled Jayce down mid sentence and pressed his lips to his, locking them together.

Viktor's hands cradled the sides of Jayce's face, keeping him in place while Viktor pressed his lips harder and tilted his head ever so slightly. It felt right, for the first time in a long time. Viktor was used to not feeling included but in this moment it felt like it was meant to happen. Their kiss was always going to happen in the wake of discovery, how could it not?

A few seconds passed before Viktor gently pushed Jayce back, their breaths shared in the close space. Jayce was silent, and Viktor began to quietly worry that maybe Jayce did not feel like this moment was perfect to him. The thought devastated him; there would be nothing crueler than losing Jayce as a friend.

Viktor took a step back as he looked away. "I'll get started on those trials, we can start with the screws to see if-"

In that moment, Jayce reached out and pulled Viktor back towards him, connecting their lips again in a kiss. One hand made its way to the nape of Viktor's neck while the other held his jaw gently. This second kiss was dynamic and Viktor found himself getting lost in the motions. In all the day dreams he had, he never thought to imagine that Jayce would want to kiss him back this badly, this fervent need to claim his mouth. Their partnership truly knew no bounds.

Before things could get more heated, they broke apart once more and Jayce pressed his forehead to Viktor's with a gentle laugh. "I've been wanting to do that for so long."

"What a coincidence," Viktor purred as he tugged Jayce in again. "So have I."

[yurmomsawh0r]

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 - 𝐩𝐭.𝟒

*•*•*• 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 - 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝?

𝐀 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜! 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐩

Part 3 here

*•*•*• 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - 𝐈 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐭!

The strip club was packed tonight. Neon lights gleaming with low vibrant tones as smoke clouded the room. Women dancing or spinning on a pole for the enjoyment of their patrons, trying to earn some extra money for the night.

Eren sat amongst his group of friends. They cheered and laughed while he sat back and smoke the rest of his unfinished blunt. He was quiet. Distant. Not really paying attention to what was being said.

“Why the face handsome?” The dancer next to him ask. Her jumbo sized breast pressed right in her face.

“Don’t mind him. He’s been a bit grumpy tonight”

Damn straight he was. It had been 7 months since the last argument you had and soon you’d be ready to burst any day with your daughter.

It was scary for him to have another one but he’d love her none the less . Eren didn’t really know how to approach the situation any more.

He was tired of fighting with you over this. He just wanted to be a family but his anger wouldn’t subside and let him out his pride away.

He hated how vulnerable he felt when you left. Hated that you didn’t even think to trust him. Things could’ve been different.

He allowed you to have your space. Not bringing up the subject again but you could tell he was different. More closed off and aggravated.

It was always between the two of you but Eren never let you leave.

Even when you tried, he made sure you were escorted to anywhere you needed to go. He moved out of the room to give you a sense of privacy.

He barely even looked your way these days.

Eren stood from his spot knocking the woman back slightly. He took out a few hundred bills and slapped it on the table before walking out.

He had a lot on his mind. Scared to go home and confront you. To actually let this go and move on.

You were also feeling the same. It didn’t help that your hormones were raging and making you an emotional mess.

To stubborn to apologize and take accountability for your part in his feelings.

His insecurities. Although you did it for yourself and child (and you’d do it again.),

You know you still hurt him. Leaving Eren in his time of need. You were ready to apologize. More than ready. You were ready to be a family again.

-

Eren made his way into the foyer, closing the door behind him, turning the lock. It was quiet, save for the tv he could hear faintly from upstairs.

He climb the steps barely making it to the top when you round the corner. Belly low and swollen. A painful look on your face as you waddle to the rim of the staircase. Eren loved seeing you like this.

You looked beautiful and glowing.

Full with his child. He was swooning. Over the course of these past 7 months, nothing made him more happier than seeing you here with him.

He wanted to reach out and rub your belly, but he made sure to keep his distance.

Not wanting to upset you even more, since he’s forced you to stay.

“Hi.” You softy spoke. It looked like you had been crying. The puffiness of your eyes giving you away.

“𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.“

Straight to the point. Eyes pools of nothing. Emptiness. Seeing him look so dead only made you feel even worse for your part in this story.

“I wasn’t crying.” You lied. Already feeling the tears welling up and falling over just from his simple question.

Eren sighed and made his way up to you. Reaching out to caress the heaviness of the love you both created.

‘Ren I’m-“ “I’m sorry.” Before you could even get the words out, it was like he had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.

More tears flood your waterline. Heavy sobs racked up from you.

“I was hurt, and I wasn’t ready to let go.”

“I’m so sorry.” He apologized again, pulling you to his as close as he could. You wrapped your arms around his neck. His scent filling your nose, only making you cry harder than before.

“I’m sorry too Eren. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” You cry. “The least I could’ve done was acknowledge that I hurt you.”

“I-“

Lips mashed together. He silences you with a kiss. Pouring all of his love into it. You missed this. You missed him.

Eren picked you up bridal style, belly and all, to your bedroom.

-

Soft moans and grunts could be heard from down the hall.

Eren thrusted softly into you. Careful not to be too rough. The gentle kisses he peppers on your neck has you squeezing his biceps.

He could feel you clenching on his girth. One clench in particular has him sucking harder. His soft strokes now getting a litter faster and vigorous.

“It’s so good baby.” You turn your head to the side in order to kiss him. The both of you lying side ways. The best possible position for you as your belly was in the way and missionary made you sickly.

You loved the way his dick rubbed your walls lovingly.

Your moans increasing with every thrust. “Yea mama this shit feels so good.”

You loved how vocal Eren was. He always let you know the power you had over him. “Oh shit!” Your orgasm was a strong one. It had been so long since your body had been touched so this was a euphoric feeling. You could hear your juices sloshing out of your pussy the more he pound into you.

“Keep going baby. Fuck!” Eren could feel you about to cum again. This only egged him on into cumming with you.

His thrust sloppy but still perfect enough to satisfy you.

Slow stroking, his cum shot into your canal spilling out from the sides.

The both of your breaths heavy and heaving. Eren went on to kiss you tenderly. Love sparkling in his eyes. He finally felt whole again. The weight of his anger no longer present.

“I love you.”

“I love you to ‘Ren.”

Sorry it’s so short guys. This is the last chapter. A lot has been going on and it was really hard to even write this. Hope you enjoyed l!❤️

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[thewondrousdreamer]

I find it funny when people write Gojo as a horn dog who wants to have sex 24/7 when in reality Satoru is a virgin and a prude. When it came time for the both of you to have sex Satoru wouldn’t even know how to position himself fr. Satoru obviously knows about sex, he’s learned about it and may have even joked about it a few times but when it comes to actually having sex Satoru is a flustered nervous wreck. If you’re experienced you’ll have to guide him and show him what you like but if you’re a virgin too then it’s gonna be a little clumsy. He’s sitting on the bed in just his boxers while you’re standing in front of him in a cute pair intimates. You both were watching a movie but at some point started making out. Things got heated and now you’re in this situation. You’ve never done anything like this before but you both want this more than anything. To feel connected in that way and merge bodies and become one, is something you want with him and only him and Satoru feels the same way. He doesn’t really care that he’s still a virgin in his twenties bc Satoru didn’t want to give up his virginity to just anyone. He was waiting for ‘the one.’ Someone he felt connected to and trusted enough to see him vulnerable like that. Despite what some people may think he isn’t the man whore many people paint him to be. He wants a deep connection with someone who loves him, not because he’s the strongest or bc of his good looks and money but because he’s just Satoru and he’s finally found that connection with you. He glances at you, you look so pretty standing there with reddened cheeks and a nervous expression on your face. Your lacy pink matching bra and underwear look amazing on your vibrant skin. Satoru gulps and abruptly looks away, his own cheeks turning a vibrant of shade of red. “I’m ready when you are.” He nervously says still not looking at you. You look at him, your cheeks turning redder as you took him in. His tone muscular body had your heart racing and thighs squeezing together. You couldn’t believe that this beautiful man was yours sometimes. You shyly walk towards him and straddle his lap, his hands rest on your thighs as he looks up at you with wide eyes and reddened cheeks. Gosh he was so cute, you softly smile and rest your forehead against his. “I’m ready.” You whisper. He nods and starts tenderly kissing your neck. His soft warm lips on your skin tickles but you’re soon sighing and moaning when he’s kissing and lightly sucking on certain spots of your neck and collarbones. You start to feel something hard beneath you, pressing right up against your core. You slowly grind causing him to moan as well. Soon enough you’re under him, both of you are bare with flustered cheeks. “Are you sure?” He ask softly. You nod and rest your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sure.” You confirm. Satoru nods again and places a loving kiss on your forehead. “Just tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable.” He said whispers against your forehead. “Okay” you reply softly. When you first feel him it’s uncomfortable and stings a little but Satoru is holding your hand and kissing you through it all while whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Satoru strikes me as a person who cries during sex bc of how good it feels to be loved and connected to you like this. He gets so overwhelmed with emotion that he orgasms before you do. You don’t mind of course, you kiss away his tears and whisper loving words to him while you rub his head. Your first time with Satoru wasn’t perfect but it was special and memorable. You wouldn’t change a thing 🩷.

A/n: This came out longer than expected and it’s very self indulgent. This is my first time writing like this so pls be nice.

[therealcocoshady]

Hii

I lost my puppy recently, can you please write one where the reader is a bit depressed and Marshall gives her a puppy?

A/N : Hi Anon ! I’m so sorry about you losing your puppy ! I’m sending you tons of love 💕. I wrote a little something and I hope you like it !

Finding purpose 🐶

« I dont know, » you’d said in that monotone voice of yours. « I just feel like… there’s no purpose. I have no purpose ».

After weeks of beating around the bush, Marshall had finally confronted you, and your answer broke his heart. You were the most vibrant person he had ever met, so full of life and laughter. But in the past few months, he had seen you decaying. Your laugh, once his favorite sound, seemed like a distant memory and he couldn’t tell the last time he’d seen you actually smile, no matter how hard he tried. You had become withdrawn, distant. Sometimes, he would at you and he could see stare into the abyss, as if your mind was miles away. But every time he would ask what’s on your mind, you would shrug it off.

His first instinct was to blame himself. Maybe he’d taken you for granted. It wouldn’t be the first time after all. He was never really good at keeping his longtime girlfriends entertained, his workaholic nature often taking over. But his best efforts to win you over with impromptu date nights and presents seemed to be in vain. Then, he tried asking your friends, but no one seemed to know what was going on. As far as they knew, nothing had happened. You were doing ok at work. Your family was fine. And as far as they knew, you didn’t have beef with anyone. So it was kind of a mystery. But still, the facts were there : you kept on withdrawing, keeping people at a distance. You were once the life of the party, but you barely went out anymore. Even keeping up with your text messages proved to be difficult. Yet, everyone was getting increasingly worried. They could see the dim smiles, the dark circles, the weight fluctuation… They all tried to be subtle about it, not wanting to be insensitive or too harsh. Until Marshall decided enough was enough.

You had ghosted him for three days. No phone, no text. Nothing. When he showed up at your place, he was immediately taken aback by your gaunt face and hollow eyes. You weren’t alright and he was done being subtle about it. You were curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees. You looked up as he let himself in, your eyes dull and tired. « Thank God I have your spare key » he sighed. « Otherwise, I would have called the cops to report you were missing ». You looked down, mumbling an apology. « We gotta talk » he declared in a voice that was a little sharper than he intended. You turned your head back to him, hough your eyes remained dull and distant. « About what? » you asked. He sighed and sat in the chair across you. « About you » he said. « About whatever’s been eating you alive for the past weeks. I’m tired of pretending like everything’s fine. You think I don’t notice ? You think I don’t see how different you’re acting ? »

Your jaw tightened and you looked away. « I’m fine, Marshall » you mumbled, though even you could tell how unconvincing you sounded. « Stop! » he snapped, his frustration evident. « You’re not fine. You’ve barely said more than five words to me in a day for the past three weeks! You don’t sleep. You don’t eat. You don’t smile. And I’m sick and tired of pretending like everything’s ok when it’s clearly not ». His voice was getting louder and louder, his tone sharp and cutthroat. You couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes and, for a second, you were pretty sure you were going to lash out at him. But instead, your face crumpled and you let out a shaky breath. « I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Marshall » you whispered, your voice cracking. « I don’t know. I just feel like… There’s no purpose. I have no purpose. Like nothing I do matters. I wake up, and I don’t see the point of getting up. No purpose ».

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. He stood up and crossed the room in a few quick strides, taking a seat on the couch, right next to you. You tried to turn away but he gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. « Listen to me » he said, his voice low but steady. « You do have a purpose. You do matter. You matter to me. I don’t care what’s gong on in that beautiful head of yours, I’m not letting you drown in it. We’ll figure this out together. But you need to let me in and tell me how you’re feeling, babe ». You nodded, letting your tears spill over. « I don’t even know where to start » you quietly sobbed.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to anger in his embrace, instead of pushing him away after a couple of seconds. He held you against his chest, gently stroking your hair as you sobbed, letting out the storm that had been going on inside your mind, that was too much for you to put into words. You stayed like this for what felt like hours, Marshall never letting go of you, whispering sweet words of reassurance. « We just start here, Y/N. You and me. You’re not alone. I’m here. ». Eventually, exhaustion took over and you fell asleep, your head resting against his chest, your breath uneven but steady. But Marshall couldn’t follow suit. Your words kept on echoing in his mind. The way you said you don’t see the point of getting up, that you had no purpose… You had said it with such emptiness, like the thought had been carved into your very soul. He could see the pain, the suffering in your eyes. He could hear it in your voice. And he wished he could take it away, suffer in your place. All he wanted was to make you happy. You were the love of his life, a beautiful soul, and you deserved nothing but happiness. And he couldn’t sleep until he found a way to give it to you. Sadly, words wouldn’t do. He needed something more. Something real, tangible. Something that would bring back the light in your eyes.

And then, like a lightbulb flickering in the darkness, he had an idea.

The next day, your boyfriend found himself standing in the middle of an animal shelter. To say he was feeling out of his element would be the understatement of the year. He’d had a few pets in his day, but he had sworn off them a long time ago, arguing that they required too much work, too much energy. But maybe it was exactly what you needed. Something that would require work and energy, that would give you a reason to get out of bed. The sound of barking and meowing filled the air as he walked past rows pf cages. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but he knew he’d recognize it when he saw it. And he did. There was a small dog waddling inside one of the kennels, its stubbly legs moving unevenly. He had a misshapen ear that flopped to one side, a patchy coat that looked like it has seen better days and a back leg that didn’t quite work right. It wasn’t conventionally cute but it had the kind of charm that he knew would tug at your heart. He’d seen you at the market, picking up bruised apples and misshapen tomatoes, sad that nobody else would want them. He saw you pour your heart not the smallest things, believing they deserved love too. Hell, you had taken him in, of all people. That had to be the ultimate sign you didn’t mind things - or people - being a little broken.

He pointed the dog to the staff member that was with him. « That’s Ralph. This little guy came in a few months ago » she explained. « He’s got some mobility issues and… well, he’s not the first one people ask about but he’s a good one. Loves cuddles and, despite the leg thing, walks, too ». Marshall crouched down, holding his hand out. Ralph sniffed it tentatively, then licked his fingers before flopping over on its side, demanding belly rubs. Marshall laughed and indulged him. He could already picture you with him. « This is the one » he said with a smile.

When he got to your place, Ralph waddled awkwardly behind him, its tiny legs working double-time to keep up. He’d picked up a few essentials - a bed, food, a leash, a couple of toys - but he knew the dog wouldn’t need much to win you over. You were in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket around your shoulders. You looked up as Marshall walked in, your eyes tired but curious. « What’s going on? » you asked, your voice soft. Instead of answering, your boyfriend stepped aside, revealing the little dog, who waddled into view, its mismatched body moving with clumsy determination. You let out a gasp, sitting up straight as the dog barked once, a cheerful and awkward sound that definitely matched his appearance. « Marshall…? What…? » you whispered, hands flying to your mouth.

« I heard what you said, » he told you, his voice steady but gentle. « About not having a reason to get up in the morning. And I figured maybe this little guy could help with that. » He gestured to Ralph, who was now sniffing the corner of the coffee table. « He’s not perfect. He’s got a bum leg and kind of a funky look, but… I thought maybe you’d see him the way you see those lopsided peaches at the market. The ones you always say deserve love, even if no one else thinks so. » Tears filled your eyes, spilling over as you slid off the couch to kneel on the floor. The dog trotted over to you, tail wagging furiously, and licked at your hands. You laughed through your tears, scooping the little guy into your lap and cradling him like he was the most precious thing in the world.« He’s perfect, » you whispered, your voice trembling. « Absolutely perfect. » Marshall knelt beside you, watching as you showered your new friend with affection. « He’s yours, » he said. « And he’s gonna need you. You’ll have to help him get around sometimes, maybe even carry him when he’s having a rough day. But I thought… I thought you could take care of each other. »

You looked up at him, eyes filled with gratitude and something else—something that had been missing for too long. Hope. « Thank you, » you said, your voice thick with emotion. « I… I don’t even know what to say. » He gave you a smile and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. « You don’t have to say anything. Just get up tomorrow morning and love him. That’s it ».

[r-memberme]

blood | k.m

⎯⎯"What are you suggesting? A blood beauty contest?”

warnings: blood

Klaus leaned casually against the kitchen counter, sipping a glass of blood like it was a fine Bordeaux. His gaze flickered to you as you rummaged through the cabinets, looking for a snack.

“You know,” he began, in that slow, deliberate tone that always meant he was about to say something absolutely ridiculous, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh no,” you muttered, not even looking up. “What now?”

He ignored your sarcasm, swirling the blood in his glass like a sommelier. “My blood is… superior.”

You froze mid-reach for the chips, turning to face him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me,” he said, his lips curving into that signature smirk that always made you want to simultaneously kiss and slap him. “My blood—Mikaelson blood—is undeniably more beautiful than yours. It’s a more luscious red.”

You blinked at him, unsure whether to laugh or throw something. “You’re actually serious right now?”

“Completely,” he said, setting his glass down with an air of finality. “It’s a simple matter of lineage, really. Superior genetics.”

“Oh, superior genetics, huh?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “This from the guy who’s had more sibling feuds than an entire season of The Real Housewives.”

Klaus narrowed his eyes, though there was a flicker of amusement in them. “Mock all you like, love, but the facts remain. My blood is the epitome of perfection.”

“Yeah, sure,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Because nothing says ‘perfect’ like a millennium of baggage and anger issues.”

He took a slow step toward you, his smirk widening. “Care to test the theory?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to be distracted by how unfairly good he looked when he was being insufferable. “What are you suggesting? A blood beauty contest?”

“Precisely,” he said, as if this was the most logical idea in the world.

You stared at him, half-expecting him to burst out laughing and admit he was joking. But no—this was Klaus Mikaelson, master of dramatics and apparently, blood aesthetics.

“Okay, fine,” you said, grabbing a knife from the counter and pointing it at him. “Let’s settle this. But when my blood is objectively prettier than yours, you’re doing the dishes for a week.”

“Agreed,” Klaus said smoothly, grabbing another knife. “And when I win, you’ll admit, in front of everyone, that I am unparalleled in all things.”

“Deal,” you said, though you couldn’t help but grin at his ridiculousness.

༊*·˚

A few minutes later, the two of you were sitting at the kitchen table, two drops of blood side by side on a pristine white plate. You leaned closer, inspecting the deep crimson droplets.

“Well?” Klaus asked, his tone smug as ever.

You squinted. “Honestly? They look exactly the same.”

“Impossible,” he said, leaning in beside you. “Mine is clearly richer. More vibrant.”

“Vibrant?” you echoed, snorting. “It’s blood, Klaus. Not a shade of lipstick.”

He shot you a look, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You’re just too proud to admit defeat.”

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “If anyone here has an ego problem, it’s the guy who once declared himself king of an entire city.”

“King of a magnificent city,” he corrected, sitting back with a smirk.

“Still doesn’t change the fact that your blood isn’t prettier than mine,” you shot back.

Klaus leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Shall we bring in an impartial judge, then?”

“And who exactly are you thinking?” you asked, laughing despite yourself. “Elijah? Pretty sure he’d side with me just to annoy you.”

He chuckled, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Perhaps I’ll let this one go. But only because I find your stubbornness… endearing.”

“Endearing?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Though it’s infuriating at times.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And yet,” he said, leaning closer, “here you are, indulging my ridiculousness.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, your voice softening, “someone has to keep you humble.”

Klaus laughed, a warm, rich sound that made your heart skip a beat. “Good luck with that, love.”

As the two of you sat there, the plate of blood forgotten, you couldn’t help but think that, despite his endless dramatics, there was no one else you’d rather share these ridiculous moments with.

its time to feed you guys again with more fics

[melbatron5000]

Reality is . . . off

Here's me, screaming into the void. I've got no theory, only Clues.

Reality seems to be acting strangely in Season 2 of Good Omens. Mostly around Aziraphale. My examples:

This season seems to be from Aziraphale's point of view, and all the colors and lighting seem to be very bright and vibrant.

The note from Maggie -- another post on Tumblr (damned if I can find it now) pointed out that she puts her phone down right as Aziraphale comes into her shop for the first time. She seems to be texting him, but the text message arrives to his door as a note in the mail slot because that's how he expects to receive correspondences.

Changing the Bentley into Our Car -- and in the flashback to 1941 that happens after the trip to Edinburgh in the show, the Bently is still a four-door. He changed it and then made it so it always was that way. (There's a line in the book about someone being powerful enough to change something and then make it so it always was that way -- something that's repeated about the Book of Life, too. Hmm . . .) No wonder Crowley just opens up the back door to put his plants in, it's always had a back door at that point! And please don't @ me with the Bently is not a Clue -- the change happens right in scene, on screen. That was not a "they hoped no one would notice" moment. And yes, I know they weren't able to use Mary for the second season. They got a reasonable look-alike, and then changed that car into a four-door. For why??

The Bentley following him when he parks it. People have said, "Oh, yes, the Bentley is sentient, of course!" But it hasn't done anything to show that until after Aziraphale drives it. And don't @ me with the Queen -- the gag in the book says that any album left in a car for more than a fortnight transmogrifies into The Best of Queen. It's not the Bentley doing that, it's just a fact of Queen. (Can confirm.)

Aziraphale is terrible at magic. But somehow, when he really needs to make a trick work, he does it. Oh, yeah, babe? You just put that photo right up your sleeve slick as that? Hm.

That 25 Lazarii miracle. Neither of them expected that. Yet there it was.

The whole ball. He wasn't casting miracles, reality was just -- conforming itself to what he wanted.

Now my point is . . . I don't know. My observation is that reality seems to be following Aziraphale's wishes, and I don't think he even realizes that it shouldn't be. Not entirely. Or is it that he knows reality is re-shaping itself around him, and he's enjoying it?

Reality is not warping around Crowley in the same way, and Crowley seems to be able to feel something's wrong. Coming in waves, like a hangover.

Now, I have heard it said that Neil has also pointed out that our angel and demon warp reality just by existing. Okay, actually makes sense. How could an occult and celestial being not mess with reality without even realizing they're doing it?

Am I chewing on a nothing burger?

Is Aziraphale turned up somehow?

What is going on.