#i have a habit of not giving people shoes so i might have to give her some at some point

[stacygetsit]

What about the ring? It was on full display in her recent video about the SAG awards. I feel like if they really want to squelch the shipping then Nic would remove the ring? That’s what’s keeping me on the ship among other things. She moved it from “in a relationship” on her right hand to “engaged or married” on her left hand in October. If the ring does not signify a relationship with Luke then it is either just a nice piece of jewelry she likes to wear or there is someone else? Which makes no sense to me. They give us crumbs/clues then do things to make us question everything. It’s a bit annoying. Lots of games.

hey Anon,

I wanna teach you something that I do a lot when I'm confused or I'm upset with someone I have this really good habit of putting myself into their shoes. So let's put ourselves into Luke or Nic shoes. You just landed this huge role after struggling for years. Your season comes up. You know that it's your time to shine. You know that this is a make it or break it moment in your career. So you put everything you have into these scenes. You give your best performance you've ever given in your life and you're doing it with one of your closest people that you cherish. Then you go on the world tour and you are touring with your best friend somebody that you love with all your heart. But that's another six months of your life that you've given to this role. You don't see your family you don't see your friends. You don't take a vacation. You have lived for your job but you do it because it's something that you love. Now you start feeling things for your costar. And you're getting all of this new attention from all these fans and you're very unsure on how to handle it. What do I do? Do I give in and tell them everything do I pull back and not tell them a thing? What's the correct amount of information that I should give? So as you're trying to figure out this newfound attention from thousands of fans you're also trying to understand what's going on in your personal life. You have to remember you you put on hold all these other relationships in your life relationship you put in your life. You haven't seen your family. You haven't seen your friends. And these were the people that were there for you when you had nothing. But remember you fell in love. You feel things for this for your costar that you've never felt before and you don't understand what those feelings are you're being told by professionals that It might be your characters feelings. And that you should take time apart, so you attempt to do that you bring one of your friends with you to the premiere. And then you get blasted by by everyone and they were ruthless. So you pull back you don't go online as much, you don't post as much. But you're still in love. You're still trying to understand your feelings. You take some vacations. You put some distance between you like the professionals have said. But you realize that you're in love and you're happy. Now your instant reaction as you wanna tell the world. You wanna scream from the mountain tops how much they mean to you. But then you have fans showing up at your hotel rooms. Peeking in your home windows, tearing apart every single little thing that you do. Then you realize as much as you love your fans you just want the privacy to figure out what you're feeling. You want to take a little bit of your life back because you realize that the more you give the more people want. So you got this new relationship and you wanna protect it. You have already experienced people tearing you apart and you don't want people to tear your person that you're in love with apart. But your still have those same feelings of wanting to shout it to the world. And then you realize that the more you talk, the more things slip your love for this other person is so big that it just comes out without you even realizing it. This is where they're at in my opinion. They have this newfound fame. They're in love and they don't know how to deal with it. This world, even though they were both known this world is very much new to them the amount of fame Nicola has is new. People followed her to the grocery store guys. She went to her local pub and got pap. Luke can't even go into a hotel without being pap. They have to be in disguise or stay home. So in my opinion I don't think they're playing games and the ring does matter. I think they're trying to figure it out and I feel as a fan we should give them a little grace. They're trying to decide how much to give us, and if the cost they have to pay is worth it.

note: we also have to keep in mind that they have a team of people that are telling them what to do. They're getting opinions from their friends. They're getting opinions from their family. They're getting opinions from their teams and then there's what they actually wanna do. It's hard to navigate all of that.

[futurecorpse92]

Heatwave (Sylus affinity 125)

Sylus X Reader

I did change some parts to help the flow of the story, so I'm sorry if it's not similar.

I hurriedly made my way through the dark corridors, my footsteps echoing softly as I reached the door of a particular room. I entered without a sound, but it was no use—Sylus was a light sleeper. "Who is it?" His voice was rough, strained from sleep.

"Oh, it’s you," he muttered, glancing up at me from the bed. His eyes narrowed, irritation crossing his face. "I told them that no one was allowed in."

I hesitated for a moment but stepped closer, still cautious. "Some people are about to lose their jobs," he said, addressing the twins who were eavesdropping from the doorway.

I sighed, shaking my head. "Come on, Sylus. Don't be rude. They only let me in because I asked them to."

He grumbled, crossing his arms. "I don’t like how you’re covering for them," he mumbled, though the usual bite in his tone was absent.

He then motioned for me to sit beside him on the bed. "Clingy today, aren’t you, Mr. Sylus?" I teased, settling down next to him.

Without warning, Sylus shifted slightly, his gaze meeting mine with a flicker of something unspoken. "I want to use your lap as a pillow."

My brows furrowed in surprise. "Sylus, are you okay?" I asked, my voice laced with concern as he sat up, placing his head in my lap.

He ignored my question, instead settling comfortably against me. His body felt unusually warm, and I quickly ran my fingers through his damp hair, the familiar sensation of his sweat immediately alerting me.

"Sylus, are you sick?" I asked softly, worry creeping into my voice. He huffed in response, his lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Am I sick?" he scoffed, his voice raspy. "I’m gravely ill, as one might say." He gestured weakly to his forehead, a faint chuckle escaping him.

I hesitated for a moment, then placed my hand against his forehead, startled by how hot he was. "Sylus, you’re burning up!" I exclaimed, my voice rising in alarm.

He chuckled again, but it was weak, and the sound was hollow. "It’s not that bad," he murmured, though the flush of his skin and the shallow breath he took told a different story.

"How long have you been sick? Why didn’t you tell me?" I asked, my voice sharp with concern.

Sylus shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Well, let’s just say it won’t be going away anytime soon," he replied vaguely, not offering much more than that.

He shifted slightly in my lap, his gaze softening as he observed me. "You look like you’re in deep thought, sweetie. Please, indulge me," he said with a teasing tone.

I hesitated, feeling the weight of his words, before stammering, "I-I thought you couldn’t get sick…"

The corners of his lips twitched into a wry smile, and he let out a rough chuckle.

I opened my mouth, ready to scold him, but I stopped when he raised his hand, silencing me. "Be quiet for a bit," he said, his voice a little softer now.

A comfortable silence stretched between us, and for a moment, I just focused on the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"Sylus, let's lie down properly," I suggested, my voice quiet but persistent. He nodded and slowly sat up, giving me the space to stand. I moved to the corner to remove my shoes, my movements careful not to disturb the calm.

Once I was done, I made my way back to the bed, and without thinking, I plopped down onto Sylus's body, my usual careless habit taking over.

He let out a low chuckle, his voice laced with playful sarcasm. "Why did you plop down on me like that? I could’ve died."

I rolled over onto the mattress, chuckling to myself, and settled more comfortably beside him. Sylus immediately turned toward me, pulling me into his arms with surprising ease. His face came dangerously close to my neck, and I felt his warm breath tickle my skin, sending a wave of heat rushing to my cheeks.

In the quiet, I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair,

The atmosphere was quiet and peaceful, until Sylus broke the silence by lightly grazing his teeth against the side of my neck. The sensation caught me off guard, and I instinctively pulled at his hair, my breath catching.

"Ow, be gentle," he teased, his voice playful, but it only made me huff in response.

I quickly reached up to touch his forehead, pushing back his bangs. The heat radiating from him hadn’t gone down at all. Concern tightened in my chest as I pulled away, instinctively distancing myself.

Sylus blinked, opening his eyes. He looked confused for a moment, and before I could fully react, I felt a magnetic pull dragging me back into his arms.

"I didn’t ask you to move your hands," he murmured, his tone more serious now, though there was still a hint of amusement.

I sighed, my worry deepening. "Sylus, you’re burning up. We need to take some medicine."

He scoffed, his defiance clear in his voice. "What are you talking about? I’m not taking that."

"What? Why not?" I asked, baffled, sitting up and turning the bedside lamp on to get a better look at him.

"It’s bitter," Sylus mumbled, looking away as though it were the most valid excuse in the world.

"But how will you get better if you don’t?" I insisted, reaching for the medicine on the bedside table.

"I don’t need to," he muttered, then added with a frown, "The lamp is too bright. Turn it off. You can see without it."

Listening to him, I reluctantly turned off the lamp. Sylus hummed in agreement, his arms pulling me back against him with a surprising amount of force.

"If you want me to get better, cool me down yourself," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Be my ice pack," he requested, snuggling closer, his body pressing into mine as he let out a soft, contented noise.

His warmth was overwhelming, and the way he buried himself into me made my heart flutter. Despite his teasing tone, I could tell how much he was relying on me in that moment, his usual strength seeming to slip away in his feverish state.

I was jolted awake by the soft sensation of a kiss against my neck, and I immediately felt my cheeks heat up. "Your neck’s warmer now that I kissed you," Sylus murmured, his voice low and teasing.

I could practically feel his smirk against my skin. "Your body’s getting hotter, are you also getting sick?" he said, the amusement clear in his tone.

"N-no, it’s because of you," I stammered, flustered, not wanting to admit the real effect his words and proximity were having on me.

Sylus chuckled, the sound rich with mischief. "Don’t blame me—I’m the sick one here," he teased, and I huffed, lightly hitting his chest in mock frustration.

He let out a dramatic groan, one that was clearly fake. "Is this how you treat sick people?" he asked, though there was an edge of playfulness in his voice.

I rolled my eyes. "Hey! I was dragged into this, okay?" I snapped back, not willing to admit how worried I really was for him.

His lips brushed against my neck again, soft and warm, as he murmured, "You already said you’d take care of me, so my requests are reasonable enough."

I huffed, feeling a bit flustered and caught off guard. I didn't have a clever comeback to that. "Didn't you say you wanted to sleep, Sylus?" I asked, my voice teasing as I gave him a pointed look.

Sylus chuckled and nodded, his smile softening. "Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get some rest."

We fell into another comfortable silence, the quiet feeling peaceful, but of course, Sylus couldn't let it last.

"You’re not a very good ice pack," he said suddenly, breaking the stillness.

"What?" I replied, my voice tinged with surprise and clear offense. "Excuse me?"

"You didn’t cool me down—you only made things hotter," he replies, his tone dead serious.

"Excuse me, I’m not Elsa, and you’re going about this all wrong. You need to sweat it out," I snap back with a quick retort.

"Oh, really? Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?" he challenges.

"Hey, it's free cuddles—who’s gonna turn that down?" I reply with a grin.

He chuckles, clearly amused.

"Well, if I’m the one who needs to sweat it out, you’re the perfect person for the job—since you’re so hot," he says with a teasing grin.

I blink, caught off guard by his words.

"Are you talking about me?" I ask, trying to make sense of it.

"Of course I am, sweetie," he replies with a playful smirk. "You’re already sweating and all... wet."

I gulp, unsure if I heard that right. "Are we still talking about me?"

"Yeah, I’m talking about you, who else would I be talking about, sweetie?" he says with a mischievous look.

"B-but I’m not wet," I stammer, my voice betraying me like a question.

"Really? You think I’m lying?" He raises an eyebrow. "I can prove it to you right here, right now."

My face turns crimson. "Uh, n-no need, Sylus. It’s, uh, fine," I stutter, trying to regain some composure.

"Give me your hand, don’t be shy," he says, his voice low as filthy thoughts begin to invade my mind.

"When ice melts, it’s only natural to get wet," he adds with a teasing smirk.

"But sadly, my temperature still hasn’t gone down, even with all your moving around."

"I guess you're not as good at cooling me off as you thought."

"Sylus—" I start, but his breath brushes against my ear, cutting me off.

"Do you know the old saying?" he asks in that rough, alluring voice. "When an opportunity presents itself, you make the most of it."

He pauses for a moment, his tone dark and teasing. "So, until you've completely melted, I won’t stop."

[mee-op]

Facts about in-game Yuu (Twisted Wonderland):

NOTES:

This is an ongoing list and will be updated with new information. I'm not caught up w/ chap 6 and I'm not very perceptive. This list is so long because of all the people who commented/sent asks, so thank you Last but not least, some of these might be a stretch/be slightly incorrect so bare w/ me plz :] More Yuu facts [ ONE / TWO ] <- not mine

They've been good friends with Heartslabyul ever since Book 1.

They're forgiving/don't hold any bad blood with the people who've overblotted (at least on the outside).

According to the Harveston event, they can play the flute.

They don't like mentioning that they might return to their world (Deuce's Wishing Star vignette).

Many people consider them a "goody-two-shoes" (Leona, Ruggie).

A good listener.

Based on Malleus' interactions with them, Yuu talks to him a lot more off-screen as he states that he values their opinions.

Loves Grim to hell and back.

It's implied that Yuu invites Malleus over frequently enough that he visits unprompted.

They can be snarky and brutally honest when they're pushed into it.

Comes up with stupid plans that nobody believes will work but it somehow does.

They're insecure about not having any magic.

They want to be able to help their friends.

Has a sense of self-preservation.

Does not actively seek out danger (*cough* om mc *cough*).

They've cleaned up Ramshackle since living there, however, it still looks "abandoned & ancient" on the outside.

Crowley doesn't give them more money than "needed".

Silver states that Yuu is good with swords (PE Uniform).

Both Jamil and Silver seem to think that Yuu is somewhat weird/strange.

They don't know much about mushrooms (Floyd's Camp Vargas vignette).

They're very patient.

Used to be afraid of ghosts until they got to Twisted Wonderland.

They adapt to new/difficult situations quickly and calmly.

They don't complain much.

Very much so the silent type.

The audience doesn't really see anyone helping them out with their situation, so I assume they fix most of their problems themselves.

They don't have any memories of the Great Seven before coming to Twisted Wonderland.

Fluctuates between being observant and not noticing really basic stuff.

Doesn't hesitate to say cheesy things.

Keeps calm in harsh situations.

They know how to play a blowing horn (White Rabbit Event).

Good with instruments.

Not a very good singer (NRC Uniform).

It's implied that they have high stamina.

They're interested in horseback riding and wants to play soccer with Sebek (PE Uniform).

They recommend a few books to Sebek, implying that they read in their free time.

They're short in comparison to Floyd (he calls them Shrimpy).

Grim comments that they're shorter than Vil.

Crowley mumbles that Yuu looks effeminate.

They're a bit of a romantic since they seem to often ask about love stories/fairy tales (Epel & Jade chats).

They have a habit of poking, tugging, tickling and just touching people in general. This is proven through the Home Screen character interactions, so their love language seems to be physical touch.

They get scared easily but is bad at scaring others (Halloween voice lines).

Vil notes that their uniform is baggy.

Malleus says that Yuu has gotten better at dancing (Masquerade Event).

It's implied that Yuu is good/decent at cooking since they have to make meals for both themself and Grim every day.

Yuu is decent at basketball (Ace Halloween).

Deuce remarks about a tiny piece of furniture in Ramshackle and asks if it's for Grim, meaning Yuu makes small furniture for him.

They're a good photographer.

Takes part in photography competitions (Rook Port Fest).

It's implied that Yuu carries their ghost camera everywhere because Crowley constantly makes them record events.

It's said that the game cards are actual photos that Yuu took with the ghost camera. [I don't know if this is true but a lot of people have said so]

Most, if not all the characters tell Yuu to hurry up when choosing a class, which suggests that they're indecisive.

Ace, Deuce and Cater tell Yuu to relax during classes or else they'll run out of energy.

Jack says that he got tips from Yuu while he was working in Monstro Lounge, implying that Yuu might've worked in customer service before (Book 3).

According to Grim, they have a hard time saying no to people, but when they absolutely need to-- they're very serious and a bit intimidating. "You're a real sap sometimes, you know that? Then again, when you bare your teeth it's no joke."

While they won't say no to helping others, they prefer to keep to themselves and avoid drama.

Yuu is sometimes a bit distrustful of Ace and thinks he's tricking them if he offers to do anything nice (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

It doesn't take much to make them happy. (Deuce & Idia 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They became nervous when Riddle invited them to a salon for their birthday. Riddle response saying "I'll be right there with you, and will instruct you in etiquette every step of the way."

They're competitive in class-- at least when it comes to Jack (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They took chess lessons to try and beat Leona in a match (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

For their birthday, Yuu asks Azul to get something that's supposedly hard for an average collector to acquire.

They're surprised when Kalim gifts them a pop-up card for their birthday.

They own a pair of fingerless gloves (gifted by Epel).

They personally invited Vil over for their birthday party and made sure to have healthy food options for him.

Not very close with Idia.

Owns a glass tumbler that reads 'Happy Birthday!' (gifted by Ortho).

Lilia gives them a CD with his screamo performances.

They were gifted so many presents on their birthday that they had trouble carrying the gifts around. (Malleus 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

[shuichi-sama]

scoring a date

volleyball captain! sunghoon! x manager! reader!

description: if someone had told you that after becoming your high school's volleyball team manager, you would capture the attention of it’s captain, park sunghoon, you wouldn’t have believe them. but as he charm’s his way to your heart, you just might.

or in which, sunghoon attempts to woo-you, seem to be working in his favor.

warnings: fluff! overuse of the word cute! (i swear i wrote it like 6 times)

note: inspired after watching en o’clock episode 87! i couldn’t help but picture all of them as a volleyball team!!!! LOWER CASE INTENDED!!!

___________

honestly? if someone had told you, that you would have volleyball captain, park sunghoon wrapped around your finger you would laugh at their face and certainly not the cute and giggly kind.

but as you watch him come up to you for like the nth time today, similar to every other day, you would be the fool not to believe them at that point.

“hi, y/n.” he says a smile gracing his face.

“sunghoon, you do know this like the fifth time you’ve come up to me during practice just to say hi right? and that’s not counting the four other hand waves you’ve given me.”

sunghoon, cheeks burns pink, it was a force of habit at this point. no matter how much he tried to avoid you, not like he wanted to anyways, if it wasn’t his eyes, the boy would physically gravitate towards you every single time without even noticing.

“well, i have an excuse this time. i actually came up here to ask you something.” If the blushing of his cheeks weren’t a quick give away of his nervousness, the cute tremor in his voice surely was.

“oh, what is it then?” without looking up from your clipboard, sunghoon take it as an opportunity to ask you what’s he’s been dying to ask you for a couple of weeks now, if you looked him in the eye at that moment he wasn’t so sure he would be able to go through with it, no matter how confident he was.

“go on a date with me.”

what? you were not death so you were sure you heard him correctly, but still.

“uh, you want me to go on a date with you? but why?”

confusion and hurt etches on his face at your question, as you prance on realizing just how bad your words had sounded. “i mean, why me?” the tilt of his head encourages you to elaborate.

“i’m socially awkward, i don’t really get along well with people outside of my friend group, i have a bad attitude, and there is a line of pretty girls who would kill to go on a date with you.”

sunghoon finds your rambling rather cute, it’s not like he didn’t know any of this information already. the both of you coming from very different social status at school, while sunghoon was very social, popular and very much liked at school, girls lining up just to get a glimpse of him throughout the halls, you were quite opposite of him.

you were a loner aside from your two reoccurring friends he would see you at lunch with. you weren’t not like at school but nobody really knew who you were, always keeping to yourself. as for your bad monotonous attitude? he thought it was cute, knowing full well it was only because you weren’t the best at expressing yourself, always giving everybody the wrong impression or idea, which may have lead to some very offended students.

sunghoon likes you just the way you are, so it irks him just a bit to listen to you list all these, qualities you deem flaws, but he wouldn’t tell you that at least not yet, he rather tease you first. “well, i think you would be the prettiest girl in that line.”

even if it wasn’t the first time for sunghoon to call you “pretty,” or even “cute,” you could just never get used to it, he simply has a way of making you dig the sole of your right shoe into the glossy wooden floor of the gymnasium bashfully.

“i-i never said i was in that line.” sunghoon eyebrows quirk at that.

“i would like you to be though.” even as his confidence seems to deter, he presses on, wanting a proper answer from you, hopeful it was one that invoked a late night date, that ends with a stroll at the nearest park while eating ice cream, possibly holding your hand if you allow him to.

“is that a no to the date?” his question, has your down cast eyes shoot up suddenly just for them to look away just as quickly. sunghoon can’t seem to take his eyes off of you making you want to turn into a putty right in front of him.

“o-oh, i never said that either.” every time sunghoon ever held a conversation with you, it always seemed like a push and pull feeling. it left him confused many times but a part of him knew that’s just how you are, and honestly? he found it cute, you were cute, so he would willingly pull you as much as he could and would take as many pushes as you want to give.

“so, is that a yes then?” he grins at your lack of eye contact, cute.

“uh-maybe.” he chuckles at your response, it being so you. as much as he wants to press on for a definite answer, he doesn’t know the full extent of your limit. no matter just how much he would love to tease you to find out he doesn’t, as you pull a strand behind your hair, the red tips of your ear giving away your embarrassment.

he chuckles, reaching for the top of your head, before he could ruffle it into a mess, you flinch not used to the physical contact of a guy.

“oh, i’m sorry. i got a head of myself, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” sunghoon retracts his hand to his side. distress with the idea of making you uncomfortable unintentionally, he only wishes he could kick himself for his bad habit of not keeping his cool whenever you were around.

raising your clipboard to cover your tainted cheek, you shake your head, to make him understand he misunderstood your actions. the frown forming on his face, has you clearing your throat, and pulling down the clipboard to speak much more clearer than you have been doing this whole time.

“no, it’s not that-i guess you you can say-that perhaps you just make me just a bit nervous in a good way is all.”

sunghoon’s frown ebbs away, only to switch to a look of widen eyes, and disbelieve at your clear confession. “oh.”

“why are you smiling at me like that?” you ask his looked of disbelieve turns to another of happiness, as if he had hit the jackpot, and in his world he did.

“cause you just told me i make you nervous.” well not that he didn’t know, if he wasn’t so sure he would have thought you were either nervous all the time, or simply emotionless, but you confirming that his presence made you nervous in a “good way” as you said, he was first pumping the air in his head.

“is it that shocking?” you asked out loud, more to yourself really.

he didn’t respond to your question either way. opting out to make a deal with you instead, evident that this conversation would see no end. no matter that he just wants to talk to you for the remainder of the hour, he couldn’t. if coach catches him slacking, sunghoon would be running endless lap around the the school til he saw fit, especially as team captain.

“how about we make a deal? if my team wins the mock game by 5 points difference, you’ll let me take you on a date.”

you didn’t have to consider much, but you firmly believe in his capability to score more as team manager. “if you score a difference of 10 i’ll go on a date with you.”

“you must really not want to go on a date with me, uh?” he jokingly asks.

“no, i just have faith in your abilities to beat them with a 10 point difference.”

“okay, a 10 point difference, and i also get to hold your hand after practice, it’s only fair if we both add something, no?”

sure it was fair, but now you were blushing again. “okay, deal.”

“perfect,” just before he could turns to go back to his team, he speaks again, “just so you know, i’m not going easy on them.”

“well, as team manager i would be upset if you did.”

with a beaming smile he directs at you, he reaches over your head once again unconsciously, still out of bad habit thought this time you don’t flinch away as he ruffles your hair.

you were unsure who was more nervous leaving the gymnasium, but as you walk hand in hand with sunghoon, he blames practice for his sweaty palms even after he had taken his shower. Though truthfully, he thinks it might just be too early to tell you just how nervous you make him feel, he still has to take you on a date first!

SCOREBOARD: 30/15

[frmisnow]

total loser. ⊹₊⟡ nsfw.

summary. crashing a party just to unwind? yeah, that was the plan — until you end up sharing a smoke with the lead singer of that metal band. turns out the ‘playboy sex god’ image? total myth. awkward, tipsy, and apparently… a virgin?! this night just got interesting !

warnings / includes. all fictional ofc, smoking, drinking, suggestive themes, soft!dom reader

damned be after parties.

but long live your connections and well.. pretty face, that's what gets you in one of these special parties, pretty privilige is alive and breathing!

for the fact that this was an after party of a last tour show for one of the biggest metal bands right now, you'd imagine it to be a lot more expensive. these red plastic cups just don't cut it, and whose idea was it to squeeze so many people into one little room? that's the charm of the metal industry, i guess.

apropos charm of the metal industry?

you'd think somebody put something in your drink, the way you see the jungkook in front of your eyes right now? leaned up against a wall, nursing what looked like his fourth shot, hair messy like he just got of stage.

one of his bandmates stumbles past, slapping him on the back, and jungkook nearly loses his balance. He mutters something, barely audible over the music, brows drawn together in this adorable mix of annoyance and confusion. his eyes trail over the room before ultimately settling back onto the man in front of him, patting his back, a cigarette pack in his hand.

you made your way through the people, way to much sweat and way to close might i add, did you look obssesive? maybe. but the cold night air sounded heavenly and you could use a good smoke. plus, you'd rather come of as a groupie then get suffocated on the dance floor.

with each step, you felt the chaos of the party fade a little more. the fresh air hit your face like a slap, and you welcomed it, relishing the brief moment of solitude. But you weren’t the only one seeking a breather.

jungkook pushed off the wall, nearly colliding with you as you stepped outside. the cold night air was a relief, sharp and refreshing, cutting through the haze of noise and sweat. he fumbled with the cigarette pack, almost dropping it as he tried to shake one out, his fingers clumsy from the alcohol.

"need a light?” you offered, pulling your lighter from your pocket.

he met your gaze, a hint of gratitude in those dark eyes, before quickly looking anywhere else but you, “thanks. I usually don’t smoke, but—” he paused, taking a deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke. “i guess i just get… scared. so, i drink. and then i drink some more and then i start smoking, it's a bad habit.”

silence fell over the both of you, you didn't decide to pry since that'd just be rude. even though there were quite a few thoughts in your head. why was he scared? rather, who was he scared of?

after a while (and plenty of drags), jungkooks voice cut through the carefully established silence, small and quiet, a mumbling-like tone that made him seem tipsy, "i don't know i just want to feel something.." he trails off, shaking his head, clearly oversharing, "i mean no, i feel something when i'm on stage i just-"

he took a breath, taking another drag before ultimately stupping it out with his shoe, giving him another oppurtunity to not stare at you, "would you have sex with me?"

the next thing you knew, you were standing outside jungkook’s apartment, the door slightly ajar, a hesitant light spilling into the hallway. you weren't proud of it, but you also didn't have time to really think it through? teaching a hot rockstar virgin how to have sex? that sounds ai-generated and it was simply something you couldn't pass up on.

he fumbled with the keys, his fingers still shaky from the drinks or maybe that was just him, you'd seen his feet tap onto the floor multiple times throught the uber and his eyes never quite seemed to settle. maybe he was just a naturally anxious person, that's the impression he gave of.

the place was small but cozy, with a faint scent of lingering smoke and rock posters plastered across the walls, giving it an oddly inviting charm.

"i think you're really pretty." he managed to hold eye contact this time around, though he was clearly fidgety.

you smiled, genuinely, a rush of flush going straight to your cheeks, fuck weren't you supposed to be the compsoed one? yet he was so sweet in a way. "flattery won't get you anywhere but it's a nice start."

he grinned, walking ahead of you intot he kitchen, the small amount of alcohol he had in his system making him lose some balance in his step but he quickly recomposed himself, his eyes lingering on you for just a second longer then last time, "would you like some water?"

you don't think you've ever had anybody ask you if you wanted to drink water during a hookup, but you welcome the thought. see? so sweet, how would you even teach him sex?

"sure." you respond, shrugging, as he pours some in, "can i kiss you?"

he nods, the water in the glass swirling in small circles as he takes a step closer towards you—he's so close you can feel his breath on your skin, each one of his exhales and inhales—his eyes on you, "yeah."

his tone is quiet, but firm and his free hand slowly reaches to your waist, "can i touch you?"

you hush a 'yeah', closing the gap between the both of you, pulling your shirt of yourself.

as he grasped the lace of your bra, he hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. you guided his hands, gently tugging him on, the material falling away effortlessly.

"oh.." he gasped, like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs, eyes taking a quick glance on the now exposed skin in front of him—all of the tension he was carrying in his shoulders quickly disappearing.

he put the glass down on the nearest surface, "sit on the couch." he mumbled, breath shaky as he gently pushed you back.

"woah commanding now?" you raised your eyebrows, genuine surprise written over your face though you grin, walking down the hallway, sitting down.

"i'm a quick learner." he muttered, his eyes on you as he followed behind, quickly making his way on the couch, sitting incredibly close to you. he leaned forward, his body hovering over yours before he quickly put his mouth on your neck, leaving small kisses on the skin.

you encouraged him, tugging him closer, your fingers weaving into his hair as he found his rhythm. with every kiss, he grew bolder, his hands exploring the curves of your body like he was savoring something sweet.

you pulled him down with you, laughter escaping your lips as he stumbled slightly, catching himself with a grin.

“okay, maybe I’m not a pro at this,” he said, his cheeks slightly flushed. You smirked, enjoying his awkward charm.

you guided his hands, showing him how to touch, how to tease. the couch squeaked under you as you shifted positions, getting more comfortable. his kisses became more confident, more demanding, each one igniting a fire within you.

as his clothes started to come off, the atmosphere became charged. You watched as his eyes widened, a mix of surprise and desire flooding his expression. he was eager, and you were more than willing to lead the way.

you tangled your fingers with his, showing him what felt good, how to respond to your body. he mirrored your movements, following your lead, the shy, awkward dweeb from earlier replaced by someone more daring. you sucessfully managed to change a rockstar; that'd look good on a resume.

[scudslut]

ahhh yes yes, I haven’t written him too subby on here yet so I was super excited to write this❤️ I hope you like it @darylsgirl23 <3

Heartsease

Daryl x f!reader

Setting: Bridge Camp/Post Savior War

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+, softdom reader, unestablished relationship (but both know there’s a little somethin somethin iykwim), aka your his and everyone knows it, oral (m - receiving), unprotected piv, premature finish

Daryl was never one to keep still.

It made him anxious to be in one place for too long, always going on runs and patrols ensuring his people were as safe and provided for as they could be. He felt at ease outside the walls, out of people's prying gazes, and left alone to do his part for the community in peace. These days though, he was a flurry of activity. Hardly ever in the same spot long enough to see the sun rise and set again.

You knew he felt guilty - that he was angry and didn't know how to release it. You'd watch him work on the bridge for hours, frustration seeping out of his bones and into the atmosphere around him. It hung off him like a phantom.

The vast majority of the community was intimidated by it. They would walk on eggshells in his presence as if they could predict an oncoming outburst. But you knew better, you knew him.

He was angry at the world, yes. But he was distraught with himself... his own mind. It ran a mile a minute and gave absolutely zero reprieve. Anyone could see that if they dug just a bit deeper, looked at him a little closer.

Sure he was strong and burly; a true beast of a man, but he was also quiet and thoughtful. He cared so deeply about others that it frightened him to his core. All he wanted was to protect his family and do right by them.

And you saw all of that.

You had for years now and it only made your desire for him stronger. You wanted to thank him. Drop down to your knees and worship every freckle and scar that made him, him. He deserved it, deserved an escape.

Initially, you thought maybe he wasn't into that and preferred to keep his relationships asexual, to which you were perfectly happy to abide by. Any time spent with him was cherished time in your eyes. But during a sleep-deprived chat with Carol one night on patrol, long ago, you had found out he did have a few sexual encounters before the apocalypse. Just none that had truly meant much to him, or that he was entirely sober for.

That small bit of insight helped you understand the man so much more and you carefully dropped your hints from that point on. However, with your luck, every time you thought something might happen between you two, the moment would slip right through your aching fingers, dusted away by whatever imminent danger lurked behind each corner.

To be quite honest, you were getting fed up with the world's continuous cruel jokes, and from the looks of things, Daryl could use a healthy distraction right about now.

Ears perking at the familiar rumble you'd grown to love, you watched as he pulled up on his trusty, beaten-up Nighthawk, finally returning from a longer visit at Hilltop. You could see the sheen layer of sweat built up above his furrowed brows, his teeth nibbling away at his lower lip - an anxious habit you had picked up on mere days after meeting him.

His mind was bothering him. That much was clear.

He shuffled quickly to his tent, gaze transfixed on the muddy shoes he wore, avoiding any onlookers who wanted to ask their silly questions, throwing the flaps open, and disappearing in a fluster.

You knew better than to bother him now, give him some time to gather his thoughts and decompress. You whittled away at your spears, biding the time as you devised a plan on how you would approach him. After all, the last thing you wanted was to scare him off or embarrass him in any way. He was reserved when it came to these situations, unsure of himself. The few times you had brushed lips or touched him a bit heatedly, he was jumpy and almost insecure, as if he needed instructions on how he should behave. It was extremely endearing to you; like a stray pup who just needed a little reassurance and affection to calm his fierce walls of doubt.

It was almost dusk when you finished with your spears, gathering them up and placing them near some of the other weapons the community used when needed. You scanned the grounds, noticing everyone collected by the fire, dishing up for a late dinner. You quickly made your way over, grabbing two portions and slipping away before you were noticed and stopped for conversation. You knew Daryl wouldn't get one for himself, spew some excuse that 'he wasn't hungry' or was 'too tired' when really, he just didn't want to take away from another. Even if that meant he didn't eat or drink anything for days at a time. It made your heart blister for more reasons than one.

You balance both plates on your left arm, reaching to pull the flaps open slowly, not wanting to startle him with your arrival, "Dar? You asleep?" you whisper into the dim den.

You hear a grunt, some shuffling, and in a moment a soft glow fills the area as he lights a nearby lamp, perching up on his small cot, "I was."

Flicking off your boots, you zip the entrance closed behind you, "I brought you some dinner, figured you'd be hungry after your trip," You smile and he mutters a quiet thanks, opting to accept your kind offer rather than argue with you, he knew you wouldn't take no for answer anyway. He scoots to the side, creating a spot for you to sit while you two eat in comfortable silence. He liked that you didn't feel the need to fill the air, that you could simply enjoy each other's company without all the small talk. You were one of the few people he'd met in his life, who just inherently understood him, down to the most basic level. He hated leaving you all the time like he had been, just another thing to nag at his over-exhausted mind.

Hearing him sigh quietly, you cast your eyes over, watching as he scrapes up the remaining crumbs off his plate, placing it outside the tent along with yours for you both to deal with in the morning.

"I imagine your pretty tired, huh?" You ask, following his movements as he plops down again beside you.

"Nah, not really. Got a few hours 'fore ya came bustin' in here," he grumbles with a small smirk and you lean into him nudging his shoulder playfully. "Why ya wanna chat or somethin'?"

You consider him for a minute, trying to find the proper words to initiate what was truly on your mind. You knew you had no reason to be nervous. That even though you'd never labeled anything between you guys, you both felt it. Knew it was there. You just needed the right moment. Now was as good a time as any, you figured.

"No, I just- I wanna try something."

He nods his head for you to continue, so you scoot closer, placing your hand delicately on his shoulder and bringing your face centimeters from his. You stop just before you close the gap, gauging his reaction. His breath hitches slightly and you feel his pulse rapid under your fingertips, but he doesn't pull away. Taking that as the only confirmation you'll get, you press your lips to his softly, brushing your thumb against his stubbly, pink cheek. He takes a good minute to respond, carefully moving his lips back against yours and placing his hands on your hips. You feel him squeeze, eliciting a quiet moan of encouragement from you and he all but sinks into your touch, falling into a comfortable rhythm with your lips. You stay like that for a while, breathing in his piney scent and relishing in his gentle kneads at your waist. It wasn’t much to the untrained eye, but you knew that was his way of pouring his affection into you without so many words. His way of telling you he was yours.

You drag your kisses down his neck, nibbling and sucking at the salty flesh between his collarbones. His breaths grow uneven and you can feel him begin to tense again, unused to such personal attention, "Is this okay?" You ask, not wanting to push him past his boundaries. He only nods in response, his throat feeling like the Sahara.

He has to admit, he's thought about this many times, relieved himself to thoughts of you too many times to count over the years. He's just never known how to approach you about it, scared you'd reject him or he'd do something wrong.

He watches as you slip to your knees before him, your eyes glued to his. "You'll let me know if you want me to stop, yeah?" As he tries to nod in response again, you stop him, "I need you to say it to me," You press.

"Y-yea, I'll say somethin'," he whispers timidly and you grin, beginning to unbuckle his belt and slip his raged jeans down. You kiss down his strong thighs, feeling them tremble slightly beneath you. His hard-on is poking through his boxers and you drag your lips across it, placing soft pecks down the length of him, listening to his breathy pants. You didn't realize how turned on you'd be, having him all flushed and needy for you, but god were you enjoying it. Slipping your fingers into the waistband, you tug them down and his cock springs free, precum leaking from the pretty, pink tip.

"You dun have'ta," he mutters, anxiety sweeping over him fast, even though he really, really does want to. You catch his gaze, noticing how dark his stormy eyes have gotten.

"Let me take care of you, sweetheart," you reply, pressing soft kisses from the base to tip, feeling him pulse under your touch. You enclose your mouth around him, taking almost his entire length at once and you hear a guttural groan from above you, his knuckles white from the clutch they had on the bedsheets.

You wondered if he had ever had a woman go down on him before. Judging by the gasps and twitches he was emitting, if he had, it hadn't been for a very long time.

He bucks into you, searching in a daze for more friction, and you pin his hips down, earning a deep whine from him. You knew if he wanted to, he could easily overpower you, use your mouth to his heart's content, but he wouldn't. He wanted you to take charge. Needed it.

Raking your eyes over his heaving figure, you slide your tongue along his shaft, moving in slow, sensual circles as you bob up and down. Daryl's head is tossed back, eyes screwed shut and you can tell he won't last much longer. The sensitivity of not being touched in so long, sprinting towards him at full speed. You pull back, slowing your movements. He lifts his head off the wall, pale blue eyes blown to darkness as he watches you take him so sweetly, "Please," He whispers.

When you shake your head, humming a soft, "Not yet," as best you can around him, his eyes roll back into his skull, entirely overwhelmed by the overstimulation, but loving it nonetheless. "I-I can't," He gasps, his accent muddled even stronger in his lustful state. You have to squeeze your legs tighter, clenching around nothing hearing your man so utterly wrecked beneath you. You want to draw it out for hours. Have him begging you to let him cum down your awaiting throat. However, you decide you both have waited damn long enough to prolong your union even more.

Releasing him with a soft kiss to his leaking tip, you stand in front of him, shimmying out of your clothes as quickly as you can. "Lay down for me, baby,' You direct, moving the straddle him as he eagerly follows your orders, turning lengthwise on the makeshift bed. His eyes never leave yours as you sit down on him, groaning when he feels how wet you are pressed against his cock. "Have you thought about this before, pretty boy?" His cheeks flush crimson at your sultry compliments, nodding curtly whilst avoiding your stare.

"Dar." You press.

You were being so gentle yet stern with him it was making it brain fuzzy, all stressors from the day long washed away to be replaced by only you.

"Have, yeah," He huffs in embarrassment, trying with great difficulty not to portray how truly turned on your words were making him. But you saw right through him... or rather felt him. You lean forward, kissing and nipping up his neck to the shell of his pink ears, "Do you want me to stop?"

A full-body shiver jolts through him when he feels your warm breath against his ear, involuntarily rolling his hips into yours and you chuckle at his obvious sensitivity. He knows he needs to use his words. You won't be letting him off that easy. "Please don't," Is all he manages and it seems to do the trick. You grip his length, tracing it along your soaked folds, and slowly sink down. Your careful as you take in his reaction, scanning his expression for any signs of discomfort. He bites his lip, his eyes squeezed shut and lets out a muffled groan.

"Fuck," He mumbles, and you're surprised to hear him say anything you didn't need to pry out of him. A positive sign, you determined and start to bounce your hips slowly, creating a synchronized dance between your bodies. Your body is buzzing as you ride him, finally feeling the dull ache you’ve had for the man below you begin to dissipate as he whimpers oh so softly for only you to hear. His hands grip your waist hard enough to leave bruises to find in the morning, but you hardly give it a second thought. All you can think about is Daryl. His closeness, his warmth and strength, and-

He tenses beneath you, broken gasps leaving his chewed lips and suddenly he’s lifting you off of him, soaking your thighs and abdomen completely. You gawk as you watch him come down, sworn you haven’t ever seen something so fucking sexy in your life. His head tossed back, jumbled curses leaving his mouth, and dark auburn hair dripping with sweat. You don’t care that he finished before you, this was about him. But you see his eyes snap to yours when he fully comes back down to reality, cheeks blazing for a different reason than before.

Leaning towards him, you capture his lips with your own, tenderly pouring your affection into him, needing him to know you weren’t upset, “It’s okay, relax,” you whisper against him with a soft smile, leaning your forehead onto his. His eyes are filled with guilt, “I mean it, Dar,” And he’s back to his nods of response.

He didn’t need any more words of sympathy. He knew you were happy as a kid on Christmas, he just needed to accept it for himself. So with one last peck to his cherry lips, you slide off him, grab a rag to clean yourself up with, and scoot right in beside him, craving his warmth. He turns to you quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You feel a few soft pecks from him along your jaw and you sigh contentedly, wrapping your limbs around his, reeling in your post-coital glow.

You were safe, snuggled with your love, and that was all you needed.

[zkaus]

At the back of my copy of The Vampire Armand, there's an old interview with Anne Rice talking about creating that novel. I've never forgotten her answer to one of the questions... It haunted me for years.

It gives incredible insight into how and why she wrote such beautiful, brutal and broken characters, and what she endured in the creation process.

BUT before you read this, I'm going to STRONGLY warn you, it goes to very very DARK places

Q: What are your work habits for a novel?

A: Once I truly begin to write, I work obsessively, in twelve-hour days, punctuated by days of long sleep and vivid dreaming. Starting time and ending time are no longer important. I might begin at 9 A.M., or after noon or at eight in the evening. I go from there. I turn on the computer and write, write, write.

My room is a mess. Notes are scribbled on the walls so that I can look up at them at the appropriate moments and insert the date, the name, whatever, when I need it. Books are stacked so high that people have to search for me when they come into the room. Opened books with marked-up pages are stacked on top of one another.

I become suicidal. I go through a horrid despair some time or other before the final page, during which everything seems meaningless—from the dawn of history to the very hour in which I am writing.

I’m intolerable to live with. But I spread myself thin over a number of loved ones and staff members so that no one person has to put up with how intense, hysterical, and miserable I am.

When I get elated and talk fast and furiously about wonderful aspects of history or the characters, or good developments in the story, people run away from me. I don’t blame them.

While the novel is being written, I try to avoid dressing for outdoors. No one can make you go out if you don’t have shoes on. Not even in the south. I wear long velvet robes and soft velvet slippers. I refuse to go out. All food is brought in. I eat hamburgers because they are easy to hold with one hand while reading and holding the book with the other hand.

In the middle of the night I read, sometimes on the carpeted floor of the bathroom, just because it’s warm. I am wretched. I don’t care anymore about being abnormal. Writing is everything. Everything. It seems impossible to write the book. It seems impossible to lift a hairbrush to brush my hair. But I do it. I put on mascara every day that I write.

This period of intense work lasts about six weeks. It’s best that way. My imagination is overheated, and my memory clogged with data of varying importance. If I go over six weeks, I begin to forget things; I feel the loss of intensity and information and I become all the more self-destructive and obsessed.

The end of the book is a big event for me. A big event. I start screaming. I put the hour and the date at the end of the last page. I expect everybody to understand, at least a little. It’s a triumph! The darkness of destiny has been driven back for a brief while. I celebrate. I scream, eat chocolate, and sleep.

Right near the end of writing The Vampire Armand, I realized I had to return to Italy, especially to Florence, and at once I began to make preparations for the trip. As soon as the novel was finished and off to the publisher’s, as soon as it could be accomplished, I flew to Italy. That gave me hope, a way out of a life threatening darkness that often follows the climax of a book. But I still ate chocolate and screamed.

While writing, I don’t want to rest. I don’t want to sleep. Why sleep? It seems stupid, except when weariness overcomes me like a giant cloud of poisonous vapor. Then I sleep fifteen to twenty hours. I tell people to go in and out of the bedroom and ignore me lying there, as if I were dead. I won’t talk on the phone. I won’t open my eyes if I don’t have to. I dream terrible, upsetting dreams.

I want to kill myself. But I can’t. I can’t do it to other people, and I have work that must be done, novels that must be written. So I don’t kill myself. Besides, I don’t think it’s good to kill oneself. It’s a horrible idea. It has a horrible effect even on acquaintances.

I think a lot about people I loved who are dead. I think of how dead they are, year after year, ever more dead.

[janovavalen]

✧when social media calls so does the questions || walker scobell x fem!reader

summary: after fans have created more and more of a scene with y/n l/n and walker scobell they are asked about it in their first interview together.

warning: friendly reminder the people/faces i use are just for the aesthetic ofc imagine it’s you bc we’re on that level of delulu<3

as they day went by y/n sat in her hotel room with her dressers, makeup and nail artist all around . this was probably one thing y/n enjoyed about being who she was and doing what she did.

she got to say there while people made her look pretty at the amazing work they did on her. however, though some of the dresses and suits she had to wear were sometimes out of the ordinary or just tight in general, they always made sure to capture her natural color and make her outfits look beautiful on her.

today y/n would be getting interviewed after she got ready—so was aryan, leah and walker of course. she was beyond nervous, exited? but definitely mostly nervous. she hated when she had to sit in front of a camera—well, it came more naturally when she was acting because she wasn’t really being herself.

but when it came to being interviewed, she was half of the time being told what to say, monitored at all times and some other genuine answers were cut out. she guessed it would probably be more dramatic for the audience and the interviewer.

‘miss. l/n, your being called’ one of her managers called out to her as she was just getting her last piece of clothing on.

‘oh—okay!’ she called back. as her stylist got her finished up and ready she smiled and thanked everyone who gave her a huge smile back while they waved her goodbye.

but before she could leave, she obviously had to take some pictures.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

the second y/n stepped out of her hotel room was as if on the sam strike as the rest of her friends. aryan, leah and walker came out of their separate room with their outfits on.

leah wore a beautiful dress and her afro, aryan wore a simple green shirt and black pants and walker wearing a black jacket with dark blue jeans.

‘okay why is it only me and leah going all out for these outfits?’ y/n placed her hands out motioning to the fact the boys were dressed as if they were going out on a casual walk and y/n and leah to the met gala.

‘well…talk to my styalist with that because i can’t give you an answer’ aryan commented with a smile as y/n laughed a bit. holding her phone in her hand along with her purse.

walker had subconsciously found himself waiting for her to walk beside him which didn’t go unnoticed by aryan and leah.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

as the group walked outside was then the lights began flashing in a hurry. the dark sky around them already causing enough ruckus to other people trying to sleep in the hotel, y/n and the group has stopped to give the crowd what they want.

their pictures.

as they did y/n and walker stood arm to arm. him holding the back of his hand along the back half of her back.

while they smiled, waved, posed and did some silly things out of habit. they finally seen their car was ready, signaling it was time to go, so they all began to walk.

but as y/n did she had felt her shoe get caught on something causing her to stop for a second, walker behind somehow able to feel her presence stopped immediately and looked down to her shoe.

‘oh—wait i got it it’s okay—‘

‘no wait let me help’ walker pulled back and leaned down on his knee to see her heel was stuck on the vent of the ground outside. once he got it out someone yelled—‘it’s like a real life cinderella story!’ causing the crowed to awh and flash their cameras faster.

y/n placed her hand over her mouth and nervously laughed as did walker who placed his hand back against her back and let it hold there as they walked.

when they got in the car they immediately sighed of relief from the outside media not being able to get as good pictures but still tired of course.

‘i don’t think ill ever get over this—the lights might be the cause of me going blind to be honest’ leah mumbled while holding her head in her hands, enjoying the heat of the car in this time of day which was a bit cold outside.

‘yeah, i think we should i hide all night and only take pictures in the day or something so they don’t use pictures’

‘that just gives me even more the reason to stay home, so i’m going along with that plan’ y/n smiled at aryan who laughed.

as they drove to their destination, they all had to take pictures and of course videos for their spam’s and personal cameras rolls for memory’s.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

when they arrived to their interview destination, the four of them sat in their chairs.

leah and y/n sat next to each other. walker and scobell seated next to each other—so the order being leah, y/n, walker, and aryan.

‘okay, are you guys ready?’ the interviewer asked with a warm smile, they all nodded their heads and y/n gave a nervous thumbs up as she smiled making walker laugh.

‘okay, we’re on in—3,2,1–‘

looking a bit over at the camera pointed towards her she started—‘hello my name is racheal james and i am here with—‘

‘leah jeffries’ she smiled

‘y/n l/n’ she nervously twisted with her hands—

‘walker scobell’ who gave a smile and soon—‘aryan simhardi’ who waved to the camera.

‘hi! hello, welcome hope things went well as you got here?’

‘uh yeah—y’know, paparazzi, yelling, lights—it went amazing’ walker looked at the racheal who laughed, y/n smiled a bit while she touched a bit of her face as leah and aryan laughed a bit.

‘as usual, as usual—so! i have been dying to ask, how did you guys all get along when you were casted for percy jackson?’

‘uhm, we did pretty good? i mean i came in a bit late since my character doesn’t show up till episode four so i got a bit more time to pack at home but y’know, i think i get along with them amazingly’

‘yeah—i mean, when we all met y/n she was very warm and an inviting person, every funny and so energetic i just love her presence’ walker told while looking at y/n who warmly smiled and placed her hand over her mouth.

‘okay! the two of them!? i can’t! they always do this! it’s constant—‘ leah pointed at the two as she yelled and laughed making y/n and walker nervously laugh.

‘that’s what i was going to say! is it always like that?’ racheal smiled at them.

‘oh my—yes! all the time. on set, at dinner, hang outs—anywhere!’ aryan commented while y/n shook her head with a eye roll and walked just smiled, his face red.

‘okay but wait—so, as you all know, the comments on instagram are going insane over walker and y/n i wanted to ask how do you two feel about it? is it uncomfortable? is it truth or just fans being fans?’

‘uhm….i wouldn’t call them fans just more of very distant friends and family? but im not uncomfortable with it all all—‘

‘yeah no i’m not either, it’s kinda funny and amusing to see everyone piece things together more than some do in the show’ walker shrugged as y/n laughed.

‘ou? so, are you denying or backing up on the rumors that the famous (c/n) and percy jackson may be lovers outside of percy jackson?’

leah immediately looked at aryan who’s eyes snapped to walker and y/n.

the two of them nervously touched their faces while shrugging—‘i—um?’

‘yeah, so…y’know?’ the lot laughed as they watched the two teens nervously try to figure out what to say.

‘okay! i’m sorry i’m sorry to make you uncomfortable! let’s just move onto the next question yeah?’ she smiled while flipping through papers.

y/n placed her hand over her face and sighed deeply to calm herself as for walker who looked at her with a smile and a red warm face.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

about a couple hours later when the interview was done y/n and walker decided to split from the group who had happened to all want to go out to dinner just to hang out.

walker badly wanted to be with y/n but not when she was occupied with the other group, so he pulled her away from the group for a little bit just to talk which y/n didn’t mind in the slightest.

the two of them were standing on the sidewalk as they talked and laughed together.

‘when she asked what was going on in the comments i’m not going to lie i kind of freaked out like i was like—dude what the hell do i say? what do i do?’ walker revealed as he sheepishly moved a bit closer to y/n who did as well.

‘oh my god—same, i was so nervous i didn’t know what i was going to day next to try and recover from that’ she laughed as walker nodded his head in agreement while he placed a small hand on her arm which she didn’t take note of.

after a laugher died down a bit, the two of them stood in a bit of silence as they felt the cold air breeze past them. since y/n wore a outfit that had no jacket, walker had given her his jacket back at the restaurant after seeing cold chills on her arm.

as y/n held her arms with the jacket getting warmer, walker couldn’t held but admire how pretty she looked under the yellow light of the street pole next to them.

‘you looked really pretty’ he smiled as she placed a hand over her mouth to smile widely before placing it back down to her side.

‘thank you…your not too bad yourself’ she teased as he faked a gasp making her laugh. this only prompted him to go after her with his arms around her shoulders as she laughed out loud while he moved their bodies to the side aggressively.

her face being mashed between chest and arm.

‘oh my god! my makeup!’ she cried out with a laugh as he completely ignored her with his own laughter.

once they were done moving he leaned down to give her a kiss on her cheek making the both of them grow warm and red. she smiled deeply while placing her arms around his waist. the two of them embracing each other in the dead of night.

yourinstagram

liked by dior.n.goodjohn, leahavajeffries, aryansimhardi , yourmom and others 

yourinstagram if you guys don’t know…i’m literally terrified of doing almost anything thanks to final destination

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dior.n.goodjohn dude imagine the cars just blowing up out of nowhere while you guys were driving it…

↳ yourinstagram I WAS IMAGINING THAT THE WHOLE TIME WHILE WALKER JUST LAUGHED LIKE WHATS FUNNY?

↳ walker.scobell IT WAS FUNNY BC U WERE CRYING 😭!?

↳ yourinstagram that was supposed to stay between us.😒

↳ walker.scobell oh. 

iamcharliebushnell that’s insane you thought that while driving the whole time

↳ leahsavajeffries i would’ve just got off at that point 😭

↳ walker.scobell oh trust she tried but i didn’t let her leave me on there alone after i paid for that

user282 AHHH MORE WALKER AND Y/N CONTENT<33333

user200 they’re hand feeding us at this point bc omg😭

user1011 i literally love them sm—DID YALL SEE THOES PAPARAZZI PICS OF THEN CUDDLED UP OUTSIDE???

↳ yourinstagram PAPARAZZI PICS?

walker.scobell

liked by yourinstagram, leahsavajeffries, dior.n.goodjohn, aryansimhardi and others

walker.scobell i think y/n enjoys my phone more than her own phone

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yourinstagram i enjoy your phone bc u have storage 🧍🏽‍♀️

↳ walker.scobell OUUUU so just take all mine? got it got it

↳ yourinstagram DONT ACT FUNNY ON HERE BC U TOLD ME TOO U TOLD ME IT WAS OKAY!?

↳ walker.scobell *gulps*

dior.n.goodjohn LOOK AT MY CHILDRENNNNB OMG

iamcharliebushnell they grow up so fast☹️

↳ walker.scobell why r u guys acting like your nearing your eighties

user111 LOOK AT THEMMMNM OMG GGOGMGMGMGMGM

user1034 they’re cuties

user77 i can’t believe they’re actually together like someone don’t pinch me if this is a dream i don’t wanna wake up from it

↳ yourinstagram awh😭?

↳ walker.scobell okay this is adorable though

walker.scobell

liked by walker.scobell, dior.goodjohn, iamcharliebushnell and others

walker.scobell no comment

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dior.n.goodjohn GET THHHHHHHHHHHH SHHHHH OUT PF HERE OMG

iamcharliebushnell okay but how many times have they hung out without us is the real question

leahsavajeffries alright yall not to much

↳ walker.scobell HUH😭

yourmom i’m so happy you make her happy☺️

↳ walker.scobell awh mrs.l/n

↳ yourinstagram awh mom STOP☹️

yourinstagram that busted up camera ain’t give no promises

↳ walker.scobell that’s what happens when you drop it like thirty times…

user11000 LOOK AT THEM GUYSSSSSS AHHHH

user220 i’m so happy i shipped them the second i saw them on screen together and irl

user1479 the fact they are literally two half’s of a whole is proof soulmates are real

taglist: @callsignwidow

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: What kind of person they are

Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! In here I will give you a reading on what kind of person your s/o is. I hope you guys enjoy and find this interesting.

Masterpost > Paid Readings

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

Your future spouse is a very detail oriented person. Especially when it comes to their interest they will have a habit of pointing out every little thing most people wouldn’t notice. It works the same when it comes to easter eggs in movies or making spelling or grammar mistakes in your day to day life. Some of you might find this annoying, but the way your future spouse does it makes it rather amusing.

Your future spouse is also a very calm person, you will hardly see them be annoyed, irritated or angry. They think very rationally rather than emotionally, and whenever you come up with wild conclusions too quickly they will be there for you to ground you and your emotions with their words.

Pile 2:

Your future spouse is someone who gets straight to the point when it comes to basically everything in their life. If something is bothering them they will voice their opinion (not in a rude way), if they want something to be done they will voice this and take action if others don’t do it. Your future spouse is well aware of the things they look for in life as well as in a partner; so the moment they choose you, it wasn’t a choice taken lightly. Your future spouse will have thought of many possibilities and futures ahead of them, and decided that it looked best with you in it.

They are not only clear when it comes to what they want and need, they are also confident in themselves, their looks, and their personality. Your future spouse stands strong in their shoes, and is almost impossible to take down. Thankfully, that confidence is infectious, and the more you two spend time together the more you start to feel it too.

Pile 3:

Your future spouse is very set on decisions when they make them; changing their mind is difficult and it will bring some frustrations with it in the relationship. But they are also set on having a relationship with you, and will know perfectly well what to give you in order to keep you, what it is you need in a relationship and what it is you wish to possess.

Their mind is one that goes really fast, and because they have trouble changing their minds on many things it will sometimes occur that they get stuck in a certain mental space that is difficult to get rid of; their thoughts will turn and turn and go in circles. The best way to help them in this situation is by making them write everything on paper; make them see instead of think to get a clear mind on the things happening around you two.

[rachalixie]

my love, mine all mine

a/n: happy valentine's my angel @astraystayyh and my star @forlix <333 (this is not my best work but be kind to me i wrote it in a rush because i wanted it to be READY FOR YOU TODAY)

hyunjin setting up the perfect valentine's day for you

warnings: fem!reader, 2.3k

genre: fluff, est. relationship

you wake up on valentine’s day the same as you do any other day - a little grumpy, a lot tired, and above all wanting to close your eyes for just a few more minutes. 

it takes you longer to admit to drag yourself into the shower and get dressed, but you give yourself credit for doing it before noon; you weren’t a morning person by nature. 

you didn’t feel any particular way about valentine’s day - you’ve never had a valentine, never been in a serious enough relationship to where you felt it needed to be celebrated. you had whispered this to hyunjin a few days ago, cuddled into his chest at night, but beyond that you hadn’t really thought about it much. 

it seems that hyunjin had, though, seeing as your living room floor was covered in red rose petals. a single, small. pink gift bag sat on the coffee table and you couldn’t help the jaw-aching smile that you were wearing. there was no sign that he was still there, his shoes were absent at the door and the absent-minded humming he habited wasn’t reaching your ears. he must have used the spare key to come in and set this up before work, and the idea of him coming over to do this and letting you sleep in on your day off was so sweet you thought you might get a toothache from it. 

you walk to the center of the room to open the gift, on your tiptoes to avoid stepping on the sweet smelling petals scattered on the carpet. your mouth drops into an O shape when a single piece of paper is revealed at the bottom of the bag. 

put these coordinates into your maps, it reads, and you frown in confusion. you do it, and an address pops up that you’ve never seen before. you assume he wants you to go there, but why? he was at work, wasn’t he?

your short walk there leads you to a coffee shop just a few blocks away from your apartment, a small family-owned one that you had been meaning to try for weeks. it’s cozy, with paper hearts and flowers decorating the place and chalkboard menus advertising sweet sounding valentine’s lattes. 

“this is for you,” the server at the counter tells you as you approach to order, holding out a paper cup and a neatly folded paper bag. you take the items from her, inspecting them carefully. the cup has earl gray tea latte scrawled onto its side, and the bag contains a mouth-watering pastry dotted with bits of almond and chocolate. what is this?

“how much do i owe…?” you look back up at the server as she turns to return to stocking the pastry case, and her ponytail swishes as she faces you. 

“it’s taken care of,” she winks at you, smiling. “someone really loves you, huh?”

“yeah,” your heart swells as you take a seat in the corner of the shop to enjoy your breakfast. “he does.”

you sip on your tea slowly, people watching as the thought of hyunjin rushing here after stopping at your place to give them your order warming you from the inside out. an elderly couple comes in next, hand in hand as they place an order. a young man stops by, holding a bouquet of flowers and blushing as he asks for two strawberry-chocolate mochas. 

several people later, you stand up to recycle the cup and empty paper bag, walking out the door as you take your phone out to send hyunjin an aggressive thank-you text.

“wait!” the server calls after you, and you stop in your steps as she jogs to catch up with you. “i forgot to give you this.”

she stretches her hand out towards you, a small gift bag identical to the one you’d found in your apartment dangling off of her fingers. 

“oh, thank you,” you say, blinking at the bag as she disappears almost as quickly as she came. 

get in the car, it reads. you glance up just as a sleek black sedan pulls up next to you, the tinted passenger side window rolling down to reveal seungmin. 

“what is this?” you pop your head into the window, sending a glare at him as if that would make him talk. if there is anyone who will keep a secret to the death, it’s kim seungmin. 

“the note says to get in the car,” he rolls his eyes, unlocking the door so you could slide in next to him. “we don’t want to be late.”

“late to what?” you ask, but he ignores you in favor of turning the music up. it’s playing a song from your favorite artist, one that you know seungmin doesn’t listen to. 

he rolls the car to a stop on a familiar street downtown and he finally smiles at you as he unlocks the doors again. 

“we’re here,” he says, then exits the car to hop around to your side to open the door for you. “enjoy the rest of your day, madam.”

“what a gentleman,” you tease him, taking his hand as he helps you out of the car. 

“for the woman of honor? it’s my pleasure,” before you could ask him what he meant by honor, he’s hopping back into his car and driving off. 

this is weird. right?

he had dropped you off right in front of your regular nail salon. as you’re waiting by the door, conflicted over whether you should go in or not, one of the technicians opens the door, waving at you to come in. 

“hi,” you greet her, “i was, well. driven here? but i don’t have an appointment.”

“of course you have an appointment,” she grins, white teeth flashing at you. “for right now. come right this way!”

she leads you to a chair, and your favorite tech exits out the staff room in the back and sits across the table from you. 

“hi beautiful,” she says, and the familiarity of her tampers down the overwhelming feeling that had been creeping up on you. “full set, right? what color?”

“oh, i wasn’t really prepared…” you think of your dwindling bank account and grimace. “maybe just polish? dark red, though.”

“oh don’t worry,” she winks at you before getting her materials set up at the station. “it’s been paid in advance.”

as she gets to work on your nails, you can’t help the all-consuming rush of affection that surges through you. when had hyunjin had time to plan all of this? 

you thank everyone profusely once she’s done, marveling at your new set of nails. you’re not as surprised this time when the girl who had waved you in earlier hands you a small, now familiar gift bag. 

the next stop leads you to a hair salon, one that you’ve never been to if only because it was so expensive. designer products lined the walls for purchase, plush leather seats were placed in front of lit up floor to ceiling mirrors - it was like a palace. 

you’re the only customer there, which surprised you. it was valentine’s day, didn’t others want to get their hair done too? 

you couldn’t complain though, especially when the hair stylist asks you what you wanted done and listened to you with rapt attention. the lack of anyone else there was a welcome surprise. 

the stylist washes your hair, the water she uses somehow the perfect temperature for you. her fingers move in expert motions, relaxing you and making you melt into the chair. 

she walks you over to her station and gets started on blow-drying your wet hair, and man approaches with a basket full of makeup. he wordlessly brushes it on, making gentle swiping motions across your eyelids and cheeks that almost feel like hyunjin’s eyelashes fluttering against your skin. 

they work in amazing synchronization, so in tune with one another that you’re a little overwhelmed by the time they finish. 

“you look divine,” the man compliments, high-fiving the hair stylist over your head. 

“like a princess,” the woman nods, turning you towards the mirror and - oh. you do look amazing, soft waves framing your face and neutral tones accenting your eyes. 

“thank you so much,” you gush, marveling at how the blush and highlight adorning your cheeks turn brighter when you smile. 

“it’s our pleasure,” the makeup artist replies, patting your shoulder. “you were wonderful to work on. come back anytime.”

“let me guess,” you can’t help the smile from leaving your face. “it’s taken care of?”

the man nods as the hair stylist hands you the gift bag you were already expecting. 

this time it tells you to cross the street, and a quick glance shows a small row of shops. there’s a tiny number scribbled on the corner of the slip of paper, and it matches up with the number on top of one of the shops. it was a small boutique, less flashy than any of the places you've been directed to all day. 

this stop is more of a quick affair, a young girl greeting you like she knew you and ushering you into a changing room where a shoe box is waiting on a stool and a garment bag hangs on a hook. you unzip it to reveal a beautiful red dress, flowy fabric falling like waterfalls off of the hanger. 

you put it on and it fits you like a well-worn ring, complimenting your figure like it was tailored specifically for you. the heels are a perfect fit too, and you almost feel like cinderella waiting to meet your prince. the girl is waiting outside when you step out, and you feel the urge to hide from her when she fixes you with a scrutinizing look.

“how do i look?” you ask her, and her face breaks out into a beam towards you. 

“you look phenomenal,” she gushes, twirling you around so she could see every angle. “he chose so well, the dress compliments you perfectly.”

“my clothes?” you turn back to get them, but she stops you with a hand on your elbow. 

“don’t worry about them, they’ll get back to you,” she walks you towards the door. “he’s right next door - don’t be late!”

you take a deep breath as you exit the shop, your fingers wringing together with unexpected nerves. why are you nervous? hyunjin had created the perfect day for you - finally seeing him would be the icing on the perfect cake. you push through the nerves as you push open the door, and you cant help but gasp in wonder when you take in the interior. 

it looks like an abandoned storefront, remodeled to make a whimsical scene. there’s strings of fairy lights lining the brick walls, creeping around green vines that make the space look like something out of a storybook. rose petals, the same ones from this morning, line a trail towards a small table in the center of the room. candles shone on top of it, two glasses of freshly poured wine glinting in the firelight, and next to the table is a man who’s been waiting eagerly. 

it’s hyunjin, standing tall with a deliciously fitted suit framing his body and a single rose held in his hand. you walk towards him, your heels clicking on the floor as you try not to trip in your rush to fall into his arms. 

“you did all this? the whole thing?” you ask, willing the tears to stay in your lids as to not mess up your freshly done makeup. out of all the things you’ve done today, getting to stand in the circle of his arms is by far the best part. 

“of course i did,” he rubs a hand up and down your spine, letting the tips of his fingers trace across the zipper there. “i wanted to make this day perfect.”

“i loved it,” you pull away to look him in the eyes. “i love you. i would have loved it if you showed in sweatpants up with takeout too.”

“i know,” he looks at you with an overwhelming amount of fondness brimming in his eyes. “but you’re special. i wanted to do something that showed you how special you are.”

“you’re a real life prince, did you know that?” you lay a light smack on his chest, so overfilled with happiness that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“well, if i’m a prince,” he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek, then to your forehead. “then you’re my princess.”

he pulls something out of his pocket and fastens it behind your neck, and you look down as a light weight settles between your collarbones. it’s a necklace, a dainty H hanging off of a chain, a single stone nestled in the middle of the pendant. 

“this is too much,” you pout, much too pleased to actually throw a fuss. you know he loves you, and you know how he loves.

“nothing is too much when it comes to you,” his voice is fragile and honest, and you can’t help but kiss him, giggling when you pull away and he chases after you.

he holds out the chair closest to you and pushes it in for you, dashing to the other side to sit down himself. he drops his hand to the table, upturned with his fingers splayed, and you take the message to intertwine your fingers with his as you take a sip of the sweetest wine that has ever touched your lips. 

he doesn’t let go of your hand for the entire night. 

[sincerelyneo]

hickeys | z.cl

❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Chenle, is competitive. And even though the comment about you giving better hickeys than him was a joke — he’s always up for the chance to prove you wrong. Yes, he loves you, but that doesn’t mean he’d let you get away with thinking he was bad at something — especially not something you claim you’re better at than him — so he settles it.

❯ pairings: chenle x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, very suggestive, fluffish, very slight minor angst, reader is slightly inexperienced.

❯ words: 2.9k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, marking/hickeys, a lot of kissing, light petting, chenle is sulky, brief mentions of jealousy, chenle and reader have a hickey competition idk????

“Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” your boyfriend huffs, shaking off his coat as the two of you usher through your shared apartment. 

He’s pissed — scrap that — he’s beyond fuming. He’s angry that the guy at the coffee shop you frequent every morning thought he could ask you for your number the moment he slipped away to the bathroom.

He just can’t seem to quite understand it. It’s not like you were alone — you and Chenle had walked in together. And Chenle knew the guy on the counter knew who he was because, for the last three months of your relationship, the two of you had made it a habit to get coffee at that same cafe on your street corner every morning. 

“He probably just didn’t realise we were together. Don’t think too hard about it babe,” you say wrapping your hands around his waist as he hangs up his stuff on the coat rack.

Chenle rolls his eyes before turning around. He’s upset you’re trying to brush this off, but he knows it’s not your fault so he still places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. Then, he unwraps your hands from him and walks to sink into the soft black couch, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it. 

You know he’s still pissed but is pretending not to be. You see the harsh way he’s gripping his phone case, and the way his eyebrows keep knitting together, and the frustrated sighs he keeps letting pass through his nose. 

But the whole thing is silly really — but you know he doesn’t see it that way. And honestly, if the shoe was on the other foot, you’d be beyond pissed too. 

“He didn’t realise we were together my ass,” he mumbles.

You cross your arms over your chest as you stand in front of him, “are you seriously jealous right now?”

He sees the way you’re smirking at him, teasing him, and he hates it. 

“Being jealous would mean he has something I want-” he puts his phone down on the spot next to him and leans forward on his knees, eyes fixed on you “-I already have you. He should be jealous of me.”

You let that comment slide with a roll of your eyes.

“He might just be new, LeLe, and he might not have seen us walk in together.” 

Chenle knows that’s not possible. He knows the barista was not some new recruit — he was the same guy he’s clocked eyeing you every time he seemed to be on shift. Your boyfriend hated the way the man's eyes would flick to your lips as you ordered; and the way he’d let his hand linger for too long when passing you your change. 

At first, he didn’t mind it. He was proud to have such a beautiful girlfriend that was so unaware of the effect she had on other people. What bothered him was when he made a point to wrap his hand around your waist, tight, and the man didn’t care, still making advances at you. 

Yeah, that’s what pissed him off. 

“It doesn’t matter, he should have seen that hickey on your neck and minded his own fucking business,” he growls. 

Your eyes widen, remembering the way your boyfriend lightly feathered kisses down your neck before sucking down, only hard enough to leave a light bruise as replacement when he pulled off with a pop, last night.

It’s then you realise he’d made sure to do that to you every single night for the last three months — even if you weren’t having sex that night. And even though the mark would be slightly faded come the morning, you still reprimand him for it. 

In fact, your boyfriend had never expressed an interest in marking you until you had started your morning coffee ritual. And then it clicks. 

“Zhong Chenle, have you been marking me on purpose?!”

Your sulky boyfriend sheepishly sinks back into the couch, lips pursing into a line. Your hands go to your hips, and so do his eyes, as you wait for a response from him. 

“It’s not like that, Y/N, I swear, it’s just…he…ugh…I don’t know,” he’s starting to get flustered and you can’t help but giggle at him. 

You take the seat beside him, holding his hands in yours. 

“You’ve been giving me hickeys every single night to prove that I’m yours?” you ask, a smirk twitching at the corner of your lips. Chenle nods, making you smile. “Well, you’re not doing a very good job at it if guys are still hitting on me.”

You’re joking, trying to lighten the mood and add a smile to his face, but he doesn’t find you funny. The minute the words leave your lips, Chenle’s eyes darken, and the hold you have on each other’s hands tightens. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He drops your hands immediately and turns his body to face away from you. You realise you’re making the situation worse and can’t believe your boyfriend’s being so sulky about something you thought was a none issue. 

“Oh come on, Chenle. I’m just playing around,” you bring your hand to his cheek to turn him back to look at you. He brushes your hand away, but stays facing you — you’re thankful for that at least. 

“Sounds like your saying I give bad hickeys,” he mumbles. You have to laugh at him, he’s being ridiculous. “It’s not funny.”

You roll your eyes, “No, I’m saying maybe I should give you the hickeys from now on to clear up everyone’s confusion.”

“You think you give better hickeys than I do?” His eyes have narrowed on you.

You knew of your boyfriend’s competitive nature, and now he’s giving you a look he only ever really gives to Haechan when the two of them play video games; or Jisung when they’re playing basketball. But now, he’s directing that look at you, tense jaw, tight fist, slit eyes. 

He looks so hot like this, all riled up, confronted and pissed off at you. You can’t help but swallow the lump in your throat and clench your thighs together as your pussy flutters at the sight. 

“Chenle, I’m playing with you-”

“You’re challenging me,” he corrects, leaning in to brush against your skin. He whispers discreetly in your ear. 

You don’t dare to make a sound, feeling the pit in your stomach rise. He takes his middle and pointer fingers and taps them against last night’s purple mark. He pokes his tongue out of his mouth then you feel his wet lips brush the spot. Your breath hitches and Chenle laughs, the throaty sound vibrating on your neck so good you almost moan. 

“This isn’t good enough for you, huh?” he pulls back to examine his work. His fingers are rough as he rubs up and down against the mark, cooing as he soothes the soft spot of your skin. Once he stops, you gasp as his hand grips your jaw so that your eyes meet his. “Think you can do better?”

“C-Chenle,” you breathe out as his grip keeps you in place. You love the dominance the gesture exerts. 

His other hand grazes up your thigh, his thumb caressing the inner part of your skin. The touch is small, but it doesn’t stop your body from going on fire. 

“I think we should put this to the test, don’t you think?” 

“W-W-What do you mean?” You can’t think straight, not with his hand inching closer and closer to your panties. And you know the minute he reaches them, he’ll tease you about the wetness already pooling there. 

“I suck your neck, you suck mine,” he nuzzles back into your neck now, his breath fanning over you as he whispers low. “See which one of us is really better.” 

You shove him back because you can’t believe what he’s saying. Chenle never lets you mark him, not with his job, so you’re in a state of disbelief. That and you just couldn’t take any more of him acting like this without jumping his bones right there on the couch. 

"That’s not fair, you know you have more experience than I do,” you object. 

Chenle huffs, “You’re the one who started this by saying I give bad hickeys.” 

“I never said that.” 

“Might as well of.” 

He’s impossible. 

"And besides baby, have you ever heard of quality over quantity, you could prove me wrong-” his touch comes back as he nuzzles in closer. “I don’t think you will, but I’d love to go see you try.” 

Now it was your turn to feel challenged. If this was how he wants to play, then fine. You were gonna do this, and you were gonna give it your all proving him wrong. You narrow your eyes and lick your lips. 

"Alright, fine. But I’m going first,” you turn your body a fraction to meet his direction. 

Chenle tilts his head back upright and looks at you with shock. You glimmer a grin, knowing he wasn’t expecting you to agree so soon.

“Bold for someone who was just complaining about having a lack of experience,” he teases and you scowl. 

"Ever heard of quality over quantity?" You mimic him.

Then, you're tilting his head and leaning into the crook of his neck. You start off gently, easing in very calm and slow. His lips gently part at the plush feeling of your lips. You’re taking your time with it — and it’s killing him. You don’t suck or bite just yet, only gently kissing him in very calming spots. 

You begin to pick up speed starting to suck but keeping a gradual build. You moan into his skin causing vibrations to ripple through him making him grunt. When you pop off and look at the red mark starting to bruise on the side of his neck, you smile. You look down to see his cock straining against his jeans — and that does wonders for your ego. 

“Don’t get too smug-” he pulls your hips closer to him. “It’s my turn now.” 

Your stomach starts to turn in your nerves as you straighten your back so you’re closer to his head level. Your chest gently rises up and down as his hands start gripping your thighs. He’s so close you notice just how good he smells. 

You felt a brief exhale from him, humid air gliding down the arch of your neck. You gently shallow out your breathing, and that’s when he leans in to make contact with you.

You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to bask in the feeling of his warm contact on your sensitive skin. Your boyfriend was also one cocky motherfucker, so you refuse to let a sound slip from your mouth or allow your eyes to shutter in ecstasy. 

His first initial touch is wet and warm. And when he starts moving, he begins slowly with very tender kisses. He does that thing you love when he moves up closer to your ear knowing that’s the spot that gives you the most pleasure. 

You know this isn’t a fair battlefield. Chenle knows all the right things to do that have you squirming and writhing underneath him — and God did he know it. You’d never given him a hickey before, so you were already at a disadvantage. 

His kisses keep getting heavier, parting his lips with a subtle suck between his teeth, sending sharp shocks through your body. He notices you jolt and starts soothing the skin with a lapse of his tongue after.

Then he starts integrating suction, right below your ear. He sucks with a roughness he knew  you enjoyed, breathing heavily in an almost pant. You couldn't help but allow your eyes to feather shut against your will. You bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to make a sound and feed his already large ego. 

His hand grasps your side, gripping you firmly right below your rib cage. The touch applies heat to your stomach, the pleasure of his fingers digging into your sides. He sucks on different places until he’s back up to lace under your ear. You bite your cheek harder as his hands start gripping your bare thighs more aggressively.

Those hands start creeping further up your skirt until his left-hand rests above your panties. He takes your earlobe between his teeth, and at the same time, his hot breath huffed right into your ear. You uncontrollably shiver and tilt your head back a bit, making him smile against you sadistically.

"Aren’t you fidgety?" He whispers, as his hands start teasing the material. He loved to gravel a choppy exhale against your ear, knowing the sound and feeling always made you shiver.

“Because you’re not playing fair, Chenle,” you grip his hand, stopping him. 

He knows he’s not — but he doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about right now is winning and hoping you swallow your words. 

“Really?” He asks, “I don’t remember us having any rules.” 

His face is flush flat right against your cheek, his deep breath exhales on your skin as he loves every minute of you squirming. 

“W-We didn’t, but this is c-cheating,” you finally let out a whimper and want to curse yourself after trying so hard to fight it. 

“What’s cheating?” He asks innocently, his hand moving back to the wet material between your legs. 

“This,” you grab hold of his wrist, but you're not strong enough to stop the way he teases your waistband and glides his rough digit above your pubic bone. 

“What’s ‘this’?” 

“You’re not allowed to touch me like this. It’s cheating!” 

Chenle laughs but doesn't remove his hand. And deep down you didn’t want him to — despite your protests. Instead, he greedily makes you take your own hand, which was white-knuckling your other thigh, so he could have full access to spread your legs open. Your chest was rising now, eyes looking down at the large ring-covered hand brushing between your thighs. Chenle’s eyes flicker with lust, and you’re certain yours do too. 

He curls his lips into your neck, satisfied. The gentle noise of euphoria he had gotten out of you was enough to fuel his fire, because from there he started going harder. He continues grunting against your ear, lacing down just below it to leave what you assume to be violent marks. 

His large hand curls into your underwear rather than just sitting on top of it. You cussed under your breath, stomach jumping. 

He doesn’t touch you, leaving his hand to just linger before your folds. It causes a burning heat between your legs so much that you couldn’t help but shift in your seat. Your body was screaming to be touched at this point.

"Are you sure you want to consider this cheating?" Chenle coaxes in your now sensitive ear. “Wouldn’t want to break the rules now, would I?” 

You know he’s lying. He’s never given a fuck about rules. Ever. 

You shake your head, trying to shift and cause any kind of friction you could get, but Chenle snaps his hand from out of your panties. 

You’re so overwhelmed at this point but in the best way possible. His lips continue to massage your neck in rough-tempered ways, his hand only rubbing the skin of your thigh but they’re almost quivering.

“Please Chenle,” you whine. 

The game had completely left your mind by now. His hand eventually moves to your core, and he cups you over your panties. You uncontrollably let out a struggled moan, being too turned on to handle anything right now. He delicately grazes his fingers up and down your covered pussy. 

"Still think I’m bad at this?” He talks into your neck.

"I-I never—”

Chenle’s fingers suddenly — but finally — slip into your underwear, making you gasp when you feel him graze your naked folds. Your body flexes in startle, but even the lightest touch from him felt so good.

"You’re wet.." He whispers, pulling his hand back out.

You hated the way he kept doing that. 

You pull your head away from his lips, making him lock eyes with you. When he did, his face dropped a bit when he picked up your lustful expression. His eyes flick to your chest, rising up and down. 

His hand stills on your thigh, "Still think you’re better at this than me?”

Fuck no. 

You shake your head violently making him grin. There’s more amusement in his eyes than you would have liked but right now you don’t care — you just needed him. 

He takes the fingers that have toyed with you and taps them against the wet spot on your neck. He coos, rubbing over the stinging skin.

"Think this should be enough to keep him away from you.”

You bite your lip and nod. You can’t see the damage just yet — but the way he’s just been ravaging your neck — you're sure he’s done a number on you. 

Your chest is still rising up and down. Core aching and body screaming at you to beg for him. 

"Say it, baby," He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Say I won, and I’ll touch you…”

You don’t waste a second more, your body on fire with need. 

“Of course, you won, Chenle! Now hurry up and fuck me!”

[h0neylevi]

c/w: sort of hurt/comfort i guess??, modern au, fluff

If there is one thing Levi doesn’t do, it’s hover.

People like Hange had always been better at comforting others. Or Erwin, with his knack for always saying the right thing. They were always the first to come to someone’s side as a shoulder to cry on or a willing ear. Interfering with that system seemed like a bad idea, particularly since Levi was neither good at comforting people or always saying the right thing.

So he feels completely out of his element when you walk through the front door and make a beeline for the bedroom without so much as a hello.

At first, he thinks that maybe he’s just missed your greeting over the sound of washing dishes. That maybe you are eager to get changed into something comfortable after a long day of work and would join him in the kitchen.

But when a few minutes turns into fifteen and you haven’t shown up, he starts to wonder where you’ve gone. The shower isn’t running–that much he can tell when he shuts off the faucet–and there’s a distinct lack of movement that he’s come to recognize as the sound of your footsteps.

The entire apartment is so quiet that even the shuffle of his feet on the way to the bedroom feels too loud. 

When he finds you, you’re curled onto your side in the dark, facing away from the door. If he didn’t know you so well, he’d assume you were asleep. But your shoulders are tense, and a small, almost imperceptible twitch in them tells him that you’ve heard his approach.

But he doesn’t cross the threshold, torn between concern and the realization that you likely would have called for him if you wanted his company. He thinks of what Hange might do (barge in and fawn at your side) and immediately dismisses it. He’ll have to think of something else.

So he waits in the open doorway, staring at the back of your head like it might give him the answer to his problem. Would you want him to sit at your side? Pull you close? Should he ask what’s bothering you or distract you? 

Okay, so maybe he hovers a little.

Failing to come up with a solution, he finally asks, “Everything okay?”

You roll over slowly to face him like your limbs are made of lead.

“Yeah.” Your voice is thin and lifeless. Strike two. “M’just tired.”

In the dim light from the hall, he can see that you’re still in your day clothes, but at least you’ve had the decency to remove your shoes before climbing into bed.

Still, something about it irks him. You don’t ever lie around in regular clothes.

“Do you want me to get you something to sleep in?”

For a moment, he’s graced with a small upward curve of your mouth but it isn’t mirrored in your eyes. “No, it’s okay.”

You don’t ask him to stay or go, so he struggles with which to do. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t be such an issue, but the absence of your usual bright and bubbly self is concerning.

Maybe you want him to make the decision.

He pushes off of the door frame. “I’ll be right back.”

He returns to the kitchen with an idea.

When he was a kid and he wasn’t feeling well, his mom would always make a casserole. It was cheap and quick—not necessarily the highest quality meal—but he’s come to associate the dish with comfort. So he does what he can in lieu of words and gets to work. Knowing your eating habits, you’re likely starving and either too worried about inconveniencing him to admit it or haven’t realized yet just how long it's been since your last meal.

It doesn’t take long before he’s returning to the bedroom carrying two hot mugs of tea.

You haven’t moved from your spot on the bed, but your clothes have been discarded in favor of a hoodie he wore earlier. He can see the pile of your things on the floor, and while he feels the urge to huff at the mess, he keeps the comment to himself just this once. You can (and likely will) get it in the morning.

“Are we stealing clothes now?” he asks, walking over to place one of the mugs on your bedside table.

Another barely-there grin curls over the corners of your mouth. “What’s yours is mine.”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” he replies, “It’s ‘what’s mine is yours’.”

“That’s what I just said.”

You don’t shift or say anything else as he returns to his side. At least not until he’s sat his own mug down and climbed into bed.

You watch him as if surprised. “What are you doing?”

He turns toward you. “Laying with you.” There’s a beat before he asks, “Is that okay?”

Instead of saying anything, you nod and he settles in, close but not quite touching you. Giving you space if you need it, but an opportunity to get closer if you want it.

Eventually, the desire to be close to him seems to override everything else.

Levi waits as you get closer, allowing you to get comfortable against his side before closing an arm around your back. You form together like two snug puzzle pieces. 

Once you’re settled, you sigh like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, and Levi smiles to himself.

It’s nice. Levi allows the silence to continue, busying himself with a gentle massage to your scalp with his fingertips, and the only noise in the room is the slow sound of your breathing.

But eventually, he has to speak.

“Are you hungry?”

You think about it for a moment before replying, “I think?”

Levi stretches as far as your position will allow to glance at the clock. “Well, dinner is in the oven. It’ll be done in about twenty minutes.”

That gives you some time to decide at least.

You squeeze his torso slightly, a silent thank you he thinks, and he responds with a squeeze of his own around your shoulders.

You laugh lightly and burrow your face into his chest. Already he can feel your limbs beginning to relax a bit more. There’s more energy to your tone when you insist, “Just a few more minutes. I don’t want to move.”

His fingers return to the slow massaging motion to your scalp. Maybe he’ll ask you about it over dinner, but for now he’s content to wait however long you need.

“Take your time.”

[just-a-ghost00]

Advice on manifesting your desired reality

Group 1 🌸 Group 2 🌷 Group 3 🌼

Group 1 🌸 Oh I never meant to brag ~

Shufflemancy : Rollin Limp Bizkit, The Search NF, Misery Business Paramore

Cards : King of pentacles, 3 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles

With all this emphasis put on earth related cards the major theme here is grounding. You need to ground yourself in your current reality to be able to see it clearly. Another think I’m picking up on is consistency. You may have a hard time focusing on one task at a time or being consistent in your efforts. It is really important that you deal with that. You are encouraged to work in cooperation with people around you. Isolating yourself is not the best strategy for you at the moment. You are encouraged to rely on your community and exchange with others, especially when it comes to your career. Teamwork makes the dream work. You are encouraged to study, to rely on your mentors. Their could be a masculine figure around you that can provide constructive criticism and help you improve in the areas you are wishing to work on. Standing your ground and being in your grounded masculine energy will help you manifest your desired reality. That would be true especially if you have major earth placements in your chart. I’m mainly picking up on Taurus energy. There needs to be more balance in your energy exchanges with people and situations. If you are currently spending more time and energy in one area of your life you are asked to focus on other priorities to restore the balance. Also, be confident about yourself. Spirit is saying you need to put an end to that impostor syndrom or modesty. I feel like some of you do not allow yourself to be successful because of how others would perceive you. You’re afraid that people around you will not appreciate you being more successful than them so you maintain yourself in a position that does not suit you. Your guides want to warn you that dimming your light for others won’t make them love or respect you more. It is time that you express your true power and claim your throne.

Group 2 🌷 Do whatever we want oh we don’t give a…

Shufflemancy : Stray Kids SKZ, Galaxy Kid Travis, Eye on you Wonho

Cards : ace of pentacles, Chariot, 7 of swords

You are advised to keep your projects and ideas to yourself and move swiftly forward without a sound. Take the opportunities that come your way if it feels right to do so without giving notice to anyone around you until you make it. I am getting that many of you are often times deterred from doing something that would benefit them because of the pessimism of others. There are people around you that do not have your best interest at heart. These people might not realize it or some may be very well aware of what they’re doing. Under the disguise of wanting what’s best for you, they prevent you from moving forward and manifesting your desired reality. You have to move past their illusions and one way to do that is to keep your intentions a secret. In some cultures they say that the more you talk about what you plan to do the less you’re gonna act on it. Don’t be just all talk and instead let your actions speak for you. Get going. Write that book you always had in mind. Create that online shop, go to that dance class, buy those shoes you really wanted. Don’t deprive yourself of good things. Don’t second guess yourself. You know what to do. You have what it takes. You just need to get moving. Some of you are encouraged to start a physical activity to help you deal with possible mental health issues. It is time you stop self sabotaging and also it is time that you don’t let people’s negativity rub off on you.

Group 3 🌼 You take the pain, make it feel good

Shufflemancy : Bad habits Ed Sheeran, Middle finger Bohnes, Lil psycho Kid Travis

Cards : 7 of wands, The World, 3 of wands

There were a lot of eyes on these cards in the deck that I used. So that could be a sign to work on your vision and visualization skills. If you have psychic abilities, honing them will be beneficial to you. Try to get yourself out of the daily drama of others and rise above it all. You need to gain a higher perspective of what is going on around you. If you are currently surrounded by pessimistic/toxic people and things, get yourself out of the eye of the storm. Traveling could be needed. Turn your gaze on the future, not the past. Keep your focus on your expansion. Maybe find inspiration in other cultures, in people that are very different from you or that have already gotten out of the storm and try to learn from it. Don’t get into petty fights. Don’t mingle in people’s business. If they try to grad you in it set boundaries. You are encouraged to plan and script your next steps. If you resonate with scripting as a manifestation method then definitely do that regularly. Write your daily intentions, your daily gratitude list, write your letters to the Universe. Write your desired reality on a paper and cleanse it with sage or any other purifying herb. Keep that paper with you wherever you go. Don’t put it under your pillow. You don’t want to sleep on your dreams, do you? However, you can whisper your intentions and affirmations to your water and drink that water. The good vibrations of your words will then circulate in your body.

[tactical-jellyfish]

Watcher 1-1

Warnings!: The 141 will be criminally stupid, fumblers, all of them. Death (canon-typical), Violence (canon-typical), loss of limb (no, I won't tell you who yet >:), but I will cover the symptoms as well as possible) They do get kissy, but no smut (that I'm writing, but it's very much implied).

Laswell's office is a familiar place to you. Be it for reprimand (lighthearted), or the ongoing search for an actual field team, you've never been a stranger to these walls.

She looks flat-faced, as per usual, but you sense a crackle in the air that wasn't there before, so when you step in, you set your bag down quicker. Just by a tad.

"Good, you finally figured out how to tie your shoes."

Her tease doesn't go over your head, but it isn't met with a snarl or a dare to say that one more time, I fucking dare you, it's met with a familiar warmth that encompasses your mind, comforts you after another round of brutal training.

"You're excited. Don't drop the pantyhose just yet, okay? Save that for your wife."

Had you been anyone else, you would have been met with a shouting so loud it shakes the very foundations of the building. But you're not anyone else, so it's instead a smack to the shoulder, and the soft swiping sound of manila folders on her pretty, dark-wood desk.

Despite your own rebellious streak, you don't touch any of the information until she opens the first, revealing maybe the single most Scottish name you've seen in a while.

John MacTavish.

She must read through your confusion, because she smiles in that way she thinks you can't see, a slight twitch upward of her lips, only the corners.

"I found a team."

Everything stops right then. The air flowing in the room slows, your heart skips a beat (maybe more than one), and you feel yourself single in on that information, feel your brain grind to an achingly empty halt.

"What?"

It's stupid, you know you heard her right, but you have to ask. You just have to.

"You've got a team, kid. I found a team, they need new intelligence, intelligence that works on the field, too."

You might have just came in your pants. Laswell pats your shoulder, trying to bring you back to the land of the living, smiling wholeheartedly.

"Kid. Kid."

You finally brought yourself back into your brain to realize your fists are clenched and shaking a little, too excited to physically contain yourself.

"I'm listening, Laswell. I'm up." "Good, because you've gotta learn, too."

The conversation that results is one of the longest you've had, but infinitely worth it. It's your in, a short synopsis of these men you're going to be entrusting with your life, something that even the most dedicated reader couldn't gleam from the clinical, militaristic profiles that Laswell has her paws on (though you know getting those must be an already-impressive feat).

Mentally, you start to assemble a list by age, giving yourself advice to learn and test. For science, maybe, or just to game-ify this new experience. To find how to "win" this, because there just has to be a way, if you play your cards right.

Price is firm, yes, and steady in applying pressure, but he's also very clear when he gives approval.

Ghost is his second in command. Quiet, sarcastic. Not open but expecting no vulnerability. Respectable.

Kyle Garrick. Sergeant. Formerly non-military, recruited just a short while back. Playful, but willing, obedient. If you should shoot to emulate anyone, it's him. At least, until you see this dynamic in play.

John MacTavish. Often referred to as "Soap", sometimes "Johnny". Bomb tech. Passionate and fiery. Useful, but he comes on strong. Only play your cards like that if you already have their favor. Being stubborn either makes you a genius or an idiot, and having people think you're stupid isn't a good first impression.

"You think you can hack it, hun?"

You smile at the endearment (doubtlessly acquired through Laswell's habit of picking up her wife's manner of speech), bite back your nerves, and nod.

"Yeah."

"Good. Meeting's next week, so you should start resting up now. Write your lines, make a script, do whatever you need. Just come off as well as you work, and you'll be fine."

Her voice is the finally thing that makes you stand from the chair, beaming at her like a little kid. You know you look silly, but you feel... excited. Much more than usual, and you can't help how you express it.

Laswell knows that, and it is a mercy she offers, but you shake your head, dig your nails into your palm.

She understands. Your new team might not. It'd be best to keep a handle on things, for now. "Thank you, Kate."

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

[lumosinlove]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

Ao3

Nine: Sirius

Pascal’s

Amsterdam

Remus wasn’t in the car. James wasn’t in the car. Sirius’ two captors sat across from him in the sleek, black backseat. The dark-haired one knocked on the divider to tell the driver to go. Sirius eyed the gentle shapes of guns beneath their jackets and took some faith in the idea that they hadn’t bound his wrists. They hadn’t even taken his own weapon or checked him further for any others that might be concealed.

“Having a good Christmas?” the curly-haired one asked.

“Saint,” the buzz-cut said, his tone scolding.

“What?” The one called Saint grinned. “I’m just making conversation.”

Sirius ignored the question altogether. “Where’s James?”

“He’ll be waiting for you,” Saint replied. “You can stop glaring at us. We’re not your enemy.”

“Saint.” Another warning from the buzz-cut.

“Luke,” Saint replied mockingly.

“Will you quit telling him things?”

“Sure, cowboy. I’ll quit.”

“Where’s Remus?” Sirius asked.

“Huh. Interesting,” Saint said. His strong features mocked a frown. “Asked about James first. I would have bet money on Remus. Good money, too.”

Sirius sat forward in his seat. “If you don’t tell me—”

Sirius heard the familiar sound of a gun clicking towards him and looked to see that the buzz-cut, Luke, had subtly turned his weapon on him.

“Luke doesn’t like when people threaten me,” Saint said. “Even when they don’t quite finish their sentences.”

Slowly, Sirius leaned back. It was too hot in the car, even after the bitter cold. The heat dried his throat out and made his skin itch.

“Who’s Pascal?” Sirius asked.

“Who’s Pascal?” Saint rolled his eyes. “Oh. Just the person who’s going to save all of your lives.”

+++

Sirius was allowed to keep his weapon even as he was led up the front steps of a very narrow townhouse. If he had to guess by the canal at his back, he’d say he was at the heart of the city. The building was made of brown-red brick, and in the heavy snowfall it almost looked like gingerbread. The roof sloped with delicately curling designs that looked as white as frosting, covered in the powdery flakes as they were. In the fading light, the tall windows glowed—Sirius wouldn’t say invitingly. Most light looked warm, sometimes deceivingly so. It didn’t mean much.

The entrance hall was as narrow as Sirius had expected, but the house seemed to make up for it with very tall sets of stairs that rose beyond where Sirius could see. Shining hardwood floors, pocketed by doorways, extended back a long way. Sirius had expected an office of sorts, not a house, and so the normal entrance hall surprised him. There were coats on hooks and boots on a mat. A mirror, spotted at the edges, hung to his left. He caught a horrible glimpse of himself in it. He looked tired and angry, with snow melting in his hair. Maybe this was all Remus ever saw. Tired. Angry. There was worry there, too, so sharp it stung.

Saint and Luke took off their coats and Sirius, reluctantly, did the same. He stuffed the hat and gloves Remus had stolen him in his coat pockets before hanging his coat on one of the hooks. He shouldn’t be sentimental about them. They weren’t gifts, just necessities. They felt like one, though. When Remus had first disappeared, Sirius had been alarmed by how few reminders he’d had of him. The agency had gone through Remus’ apartment, cleaning up any give-aways before Remus’ family arrived. By the time Sirius had forced himself through the door, the flat was empty and up for sale. Not many photographs. It was just a habit among their kind, but Sirius had never regretted anything so much.

“Let’s get a move on, then,” Saint said. “Shall we?”

“Don’t tell me I have to take my shoes off,” Sirius said.

The one called Luke snorted softly. “As if we’d ever ask that of a your sort.”

“My sort?” Sirius had been under the impression they were the same.

“There’s paranoid,” Saint said. “And then there’s you, Sirius Black. You’re a box of suspicions tied up with a ribbon.”

They led him up one great staircase to a second floor. A large, abstract painting met them on the second landing. The gray and whites of ice. The dark of something like a forest. Sirius was tempted to fall into it and stay in that cold oblivion until someone reached in and grabbed him back, but only to tell him Remus knew him again.

“Sirius.”

Sirius turned sharply at his name. James stood there wearing new clothes. A soft looking blue sweater and dark jeans. His glasses rested on his face like they always did and his hair was its usual disheveled mess. The relief in Sirius’ chest hurt.

They walked forward to each other at the same time and James put both his hands on Sirius’ shoulders.

“I’m okay,” he assured him. “You?”

“So far,” Sirius said. “What happened?”

James sighed. “Someone snuck up behind me. Still can’t figure out how.”

“Who?”

“Sweet reunion and all,” Saint said, brushing passed them both and gesturing to another set of stairs. “We’re not there yet, so if you could—”

“I can come to them,” said a voice from above. “No worries.”

Sirius looked up through the stairs’ curling wooden banisters. Brown, polished shoes appeared first, then light gray trousers. The man himself had dark hair that was parted and held in a gentle curl over his forehead, and a short beard that would have appeared scruffy had it not been so neatly trimmed. He smiled at Sirius as he descended the stairs.

“Hello, Sirius.” A nod to James. “James.”

“Pascal,” Sirius guessed.

“Yes. Sorry for the mystery, but better careful than not. Now that Salazar has tried to kill you, I figured it was finally time the three of us met.”

“How do you know they tried?”

“You went offline,” Pascal said simply.

Sirius touched the healing cut on his neck. “What do you want?”

Pascal paused on the final steps, seemingly taken aback by the harshness. Sirius didn’t care. He’d never been one to smooth contacts over with false flattery and charm. That was James’ job.

“Your Salazar blood runs thick, Sirius,” Pascal said. “Your great grandfather. Grandfather. Your father. Your younger brother. Regulus is there now, isn’t he?”

Sirius would not talk about Regulus with this man. “How do you know me?”

Pascal came to a stop a few paces away from him. “What I want, as you say, is to get to know each other. I would like you to listen to what I have to say. I knew you especially, Sirius, wouldn’t be easily swayed. Not even by what Remus and Logan knew.”

“Knew,” James repeated. “Do you know what happened to their memories?”

“I share your theories about Salazar,” Pascal said. Saint and Luke fell back a few steps but stayed close. “Logan and Remus knew something and Salazar didn’t want it going any further.” He glanced at Sirius.

“You thought I wouldn’t listen to something my own team told me?” Sirius asked.

“I think,” Pascal said quietly. “That there are some roots which run very deep.” He glanced between him and James. “What do you know? Before everything happened, I had begun to worry Remus would tell you too soon. He thought it would pose no problems.”

Remus had wanted to tell him something. It explained every moment Remus’ eyes had gone far away. It had explained the lingering silences, and that last day, when Remus had put a hand on Sirius’ neck. I need you to know—

Sirius couldn’t escape that touch. He didn’t want to. It had been filled with such panicked, sudden urgency.

“Nothing,” Sirius said. “He never told me anything. He never got the chance.”

James’ shoulder brushed his in silent sympathy, then he looked back to Pascal.

“Logan said your name,” James said. “When we first found him, he had a split second of clarity and told Finn your name. I think I can speak for both of us when I say that’s the only reason either of us is still standing here.”

“Then I will have to thank Logan,” Pascal said. “When Leo Knut allows him to be found, that is.”

“You found Finn through Leo’s tracker,” James said. “You just admitted to tracking us.”

Pascal laughed lightly. “And Mr. Knut does not make that easy. Especially now that he’s discovered the back door we came through and locked it up tight.” He gestured through a doorway. “Will you sit?”

The sitting room Pascal led them to was just as nice as the rest of the house. Low-backed, simple couches of brown leather and a gleaming, dark-wood coffee table already set with a french press and thin ceramic cups.

Sirius and James glanced at each other as they sat down. Sirius looked down briefly at James’ waist, and James nodded. He’d been allowed to keep his gun, too.

Pascal smiled slightly as he poured the coffee. “You don’t have to drink it, I won’t be offended. I know how this must feel.”

“Where’s Remus?” Sirius asked.

“He’s here and he’s safe,” Pascal said, sitting across from them. “I’m not keeping him from you, or you from him. I would like the chance to talk to you first, if you’ll allow me to. I’m sure you have questions, and I’d like to answer them without influencing Remus one way or another.” Pascal hesitated, pressing his hands together. “I…Greece did not go as planned. And I don’t know exactly what happened to him after he and Logan ran from us.”

“Ran from you,” James repeated.

Sirius sat forward. “Who were we following in Greece?”

“Salazar,” Pascal said. “There was never any real mission. They wanted you running in circles, chasing your tails, so they could kill Remus and Logan and turn the blame on some third party. Mission gone wrong. An old trick of theirs.”

“You were part of Salazar?”

Pascal didn’t answer, but no answer and the shadow in his dark eyes was enough. Sirius tried to place his face. He was about as old as his own father, a few years younger perhaps. Sirius never seen a record of him. He’d never heard his name.

“So the people in the boat, the people shooting,” Sirius said. “Those were other Salazar agents. Like Archer…”

He thought of Jack’s body, twitching once as his memories were wiped, then again as he was killed.

“No,” Pascal said. “That’s the way Salazar wanted it, but no. Those were my people in the boat.”

Sirius just stared at him. From beside him, James stopped breathing. “So you shot—”

“Stunning bullets. It had to be believable. But Salazar was also shooting—real ammo. They hit both of them, as you saw from above in the cliffs.”

Sirius tried to drag that image out of his mind and pin it down. Had he seen shots coming from two directions? He didn’t know. All he saw was Remus’ blood on the sand, Logan’s in the waves, and the boat speeding away.

“It was vital that we get to them first.” Pascal gave his head a small shake. “They were never going to die, but you could not come looking. Not yet. They both knew the risks.”

Air lodged in Sirius’ throat. They both knew the risks.

“What are you saying?” James pushed forward in his seat. “What the fuck are you saying, what did you just say?”

Pascal’s chest expanded with the breath he took. “James…”

“Are you telling us that they knew that was going to happen?” James asked. “Are you telling us…”

James trailed off in disbelief, but Pascal knew enough not to interrupt. Sirius wouldn’t have minded if he tried to look at least a little more guilty.

Sirius wanted to throw the steaming coffee in his face. “We thought they were dead. I thought he was gone, I thought I had killed him, I thought he was dead—”

“We didn’t know about the memory wipe,” Pascal urged. “We didn’t know. It was never supposed to go on this long, we were never supposed to lose them entirely, but they needed to disappear. Salazar had to think they were gone.”

“They needed help,” Sirius shouted.

“It was supposed to be a week. Then Logan and Remus would contact you, James, and Leo in their own time when they thought they could get you alone.” Pascal took a sip of his coffee like he was in no hurry at all, and James hit his palm against the table. Pascal looked at him but didn’t flinch. Only when he put the slightly shaking cup down did Sirius realize he was guilty. It was suddenly all over his face. “Just a week. That’s what they agreed to—and believe me, they didn’t like the idea of doing that to you for even that long.”

“Then why wasn’t it a week?” Sirius asked flatly.

“The trackers,” James said softly.

Pascal nodded. “We didn’t know about the trackers, we didn’t know they’d wipe their memory. Saint and Luke watched them forget themselves and acted quickly, thank God. Only, waking up and not knowing who you are and finding yourself shot and with two strangers cutting into your neck is not exactly the way to earn trust.”

“The boats they were on,” James said. “I don’t understand.”

“They fled. Logan and Remus,” Pascal said. “We thought, for a while, that they were together, and we were going to pick them up again in port, but…” He shook his head. “They might not have known themselves, but their skills of covering their own tracks are as good as second nature. So. That’s all I know. I couldn’t find them until Leo picked up Remus’ image. Now we’re here.”

“We don’t know a Saint or a Luke,” James said. “If they’re Salazar, why didn’t they know about the memories?”

“You didn’t know,” Pascal pointed out, eyes going to James’ own stitched-up wound. “It’s a new addition. That did not happen for me, or for them when they left.”

“I still don’t know those two,” Sirius said.

“You don’t know how large Salazar is.”

“Leo didn’t recognize them on the train.”

“Leo is young.”

Sirius tried to soak it all in. Remus, faking his own death. Remus not telling him. Logan, so calm, so calm that day, talking about taking Finn on vacation. Sirius got furious so quickly that he felt the world tip dizzyingly and he looked down at his hands, trying to steady his breathing.

“I wish,” Pascal began again, more softly, “that I could help them. But I’m not you.” He looked at James. “Or you. And I am not Finn, who was smart to come along, by the way. But know there’s no world in which he’ll be allowed to live now, not if he’s captured.”

“Why is that smart?” Sirius wanted to stand. He wanted to curl away from the world. He wanted to see Remus for himself. “I tried to stop him.”

“You’re not us?” James asked. There was a scoff to his voice, and Sirius knew he was about as ready to get up and walk out as he was. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Logan, Remus, and I spent time together, but mostly over the phone.”

“So?”

“So, memories have power,” Pascal said evenly. “They have a source. Love. Anger. Comfort. Sorrow. Listen carefully to me. Please.” He looked truly desperate for a moment. “They need to come back to themselves before they can come back to me. Otherwise, without knowing it, they could lead Salazar straight to us and all of the work we’ve done will be—”

“What are they to you? Why do you need them?”

“Witnesses,” Pascal said. “They’re the only witnesses I have against what Salazar has done. If we can riddle this out, this whole thing will be over in mere days. But I can’t do it alone.”

“And what’s that?” Sirius felt like he was right back in that cupboard with nothing but the dark. “What have they done?”

But Pascal only shook his head. “All I will say now, is that a witness is worth nothing if he can’t remember what he saw.”

“Tell us what you know.” James rose from his seat. “Tell us, or—”

Pascal rose, too. He was taller and broader than James, and for the first time since they’d met he used that advantage. “Okay, say I tell you. And then Salazar gets to you, let’s say.” His warm eyes narrowed. “They have Lily in a cold room somewhere. Talk, or she dies.”

“Don’t you fucking—”

“They bring her to you, let’s say,” Pascal cut in. “They put a gun to her head.”

“Stop,” James snarled.

“What would you say, James?” Pascal matched James’ volume. “If you want me to tell you so badly, what would you say to them if they were going to hurt your family?”

Sirius saw the dizzying waves wash over James. The anger. The grief. He fell back in his seat with one of his hands locked around his wrist, trying to hold himself together. 

“Anything,” James said softly. “Anything they wanted me to.”

Slowly, Pascal nodded. He retook his seat, glancing at Sirius. “Okay. Now, that is what I would need out of you. Loyalty. So, before I say a word, why don’t you let me make sure your family is as safe as my own.” James’ eyes flicked up to meet his and Pascal gave a nod. “Okay? Will you let me do that?”

For a moment, a flash of a moment, Sirius was jealous. So, so jealous of James for having someone who would let him protect them.

“Where is Remus?” he asked again. “Are you who he recognized outside the train station?”

Are you who he left me for?

“He recognizes you, too,” Pascal said.

He dreams of you.

  “You can help him, Sirius. Just like Finn can help Logan.”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s not me. I can’t. Remus doesn’t trust me, not even a little.”

Pascal’s sigh sounded almost resigned as he stood again from the coffee and leather. “You’ll be comfortable here, I promise. It’s my own home. One of them. Food, drink, whatever you like. But I’d stay inside as much as possible. I can protect you here. Let me know when you’d like to signal Leo, Logan, and Finn. Take your time.”

Before he left the room, before Sirius could put a hand on James’ shoulder and get him to clear that vacant, scared expression out of his eyes, Pascal spoke again.

“You can help him,” Pascal said. “Remus is not himself. And, if you don’t mind my saying, neither, at the moment, are you, Sirius.”

Pascal slipped out the door soundlessly. He left some sort of ringing behind in Sirius’ ears.

“James,” Sirius said, putting a hand on his back. James had his fingers beneath the lens of his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “Do you trust him?”

“I…” James sounded so tired. He kept his face half covered for a long moment. When he finally straightened, eyes red, he looked at Sirius. “Right now, I only trust you.”

“Remus will be in soon.”

They looked up to see that Saint had appeared. He held a tray of sandwiches and water bottles which he set down with a smirk. Sirius couldn’t tell if he’d heard that. “Hope you’re hungry.”

James ignored his words. “You were in Salazar.”

“Uh-huh. Before Pascal wiped me out of their existence.” He grinned in that odd way of his and began to walk away. “It’s nice to be a ghost. At least for a little while.”

“How did you get out?” Sirius asked.

“Piece of cake,” Saint called over his shoulder. “I took the only person I love with me.”

[ghostykapi]

do you miss my name (said it between your breaths)

park jihyo & fem!reader

hi can i get an order of sapphics being sapphics and an extra shot of panic?

it’s a saturday today

while any other saturday is just as good to you, this is a very special saturday

all because today you are going to indulge yourself and go to a sapphic event

you were nervous, the bones were rattling, the teeth chattering, your breathing coming in short breaths, and your right leg bouncing up and down.

it was saturday, and you are going to faint at the bare thought of potentially seeing a goddess tonight.

just a week ago you were excited, remembering the happy gasp you had made when you saw the event promotion through instagram. you had barely gotten the last slot, which meant to you it was a sign to finally to venture out more

when the days before started to come by, it starts to hit you bit by bit, well until today. you sitting down on your bed, overthinking what to even wear

it doesn’t help that your style is typically like a college student, baggy sweatpants and a hoddie as your style from day to day when clocking off work. your friends barely threw any parties or celebrations too, so the most presentable outfit was a pair of slacks, a button up white long sleeve, paired with your leather shoes.

oh you are so doomed

but today is saturday, and sana is always looking for people to makeover on saturdays for fun

“hm” sana opens her closet, ruffling through the selection of dresses she wears “what do you feel about dresses?”

“not a fan but also not against it?” you are now sitting on sana’s bed, only now your leg won’t stay still out of habit “i mean it would be nice if it was long and flowy”

sana is still ruffling, and is now opening her drawers nearby to look at for more options

“was there a theme?”

“no not really, they just said like it was like a get together and you can talk and wine and paint?”

“paint? oooohh aren’t you a lover girl—oh what do you feel about dresses that show your back—ah no wait, it’s painting and wine, not really the right dress”

“yeah i mean it’s happening at that that thai restaurant downtown. the one that’s selling like those really good milkteas that i only knew now”

“psh you are such a loser, i love you but those milkteas have been there since like 5 months ago when i took tzuyu on a date”

“don’t you mean when my sister got stood up and you sped your way there?”

“shut up” sana shushes you, simply throwing you her floral dress, your eyes questioning the the fact that it’s a backless dress. a pretty floral dress that can kill

you look back up at her, already knowing she won’t take no for an answer despite what she said earlier

so yeah it’s saturday, sana is dressing you up. making sure you look the prettiest in that event. her gushing and tzu’s voice over the facetime reassuring a bit of your worries

jihyo on the other hand, totally isn’t stressing out. her outfit planned, ironed out on her bed. her new boots, which momo took courtesy of wearing it out with nothing but hands and stairs, already ready by the door.

“aren’t you excited for tonight” momo says over breakfast, observing jihyo across the table “more excited you’ve ever been since your last gig”

“i know i’m kind of shaking” jihyo laughs, and if momo notices the shakiness of it, she doesn’t comment or acknowledge it “it’s been a while”

momo doesn’t really continue the topic, knowing how long since jihyo has indulged in this kind of stuff. 5 years of focusing on the band and work made jihyo uninterested in any kind of romantic relationship or even simple dates.

“mhm and sana says she wants to do a girls night, so i won’t be home, probably going to crash at nayeon’s place if she gets too drunk” momo tells her, already giving away the apartment for the night “if jeongyeon will even let them drink”

jihyo barely thinks that someone might come home with her tonight, she doesn’t want to bring someone home in the first place. so she only replies with a muffled ‘okay’ before munching down the rest of her breakfast

so simple saturday for jihyo, a little excited, a little worried, but honestly it’s wine and paint and yummy food. she isn’t too worried or anxious

so someone explain to her why when it hits five p.m., when she’s in front of the restaurant, the organizers are happily ushering her in, her breath gets stuck in her throat as she notices how much other sapphics are there already

she’s looking around, taking notes at every person she sees, even the ones who stare at her for too long that she’s sporting a blush on the tip of her ears

it’s early, jihyo knows that, but when you walk in before it hits six p.m., she feels like she’s being sucker punched over the table she’s sitting at

you’re barely any better, but god sana was having so much fun with your makeup that it leaves most of the attendees double taking on you. the backless floral dress is a bold choice, but having half of the venue gawking at how you look makes you feel shy

nervous, excited, anxious. those were what both of you were feeling and yet—

when you see her, your throat goes dry at how she looks. sporting in a simple fit tank top, a leather jacket, dark baggy jeans and killer boots, you contemplate if you want her or to be her

when she sees you, she thinks she’s been blessed by sappho herself. the dress is stunning yes, but the way you smile, the way your eyes keep her from looking away, your glow under the warm lights

this isn’t love at first sight

this is finally finding someone who you might be your soulmate

the organizers wisk you away though, towards the registration booth and jihyo has to blink the stars out of her eyes before nursing her wine again. her nerves finally showing her what it means to get curious, excited and anxious all at the same time

she keeps her eyes on you, the way you smile and chat with the registration team. the way your hair drapes over your shoulders, the way your laugh sounds like an angel’s call, the way your back flexes those subtle muscles that makes everyone know that you work out

she doesn’t look away even when you take your stub and claim your free wine, giggling at that tall organizer that’s too close to you. that pesky ugly (she isn’t jihyo is just jealous) one that is trying to charm you away

so jihyo does what future you thinks is adorable and future her thinks is so stupid

“i think you don’t need to tell this pretty lady the same pick up line you use and fail for every person you met tonight”

you turn around and face jihyo, who’s eyes are glaring at the organizer, who’s stuttering a response. her hands barely ghosting over your waist, claiming you away from them.

not that you mind anyway her hands stayed there the entire night

she barely lets the organizer have a coherent reply, as she leads you towards her table, her heart racing as you laugh at the organizer’s defeated face. her brain itching to get more of that kick, more of your happiness out loud

“the pick up line isn’t that bad” you tell jihyo, your voice having the power to make jihyo fall on her knees

“no you don’t understand it’s been, what 30 minutes of her trying the same pickup line? on over 29 other women? i need her to stop and you don’t deserve that” jihyo lets you sit down, your breath hitching at how much you catch yourself enjoying much of jihyo’s undivided attention to you

“yeah? well” you try to look at her eyes properly, you really do. it’s just when she tilts her head and lets some strands of hair cover her eyes, you fond yourself looking away, knowing that she now resembles a look of a puppy “thank you for saving me then”

“anything for a pretty girl” what is jihyo even saying? momo would point and laugh at her right now if she were here, but she isn’t. it’s you who’s here and it’s you who blushes and ducks her head

so you both finally talk, despite the fact that you both are a mess, on this beautiful saturday evening. the organizers give out painting materials and the items you both want to paint. her’s being an ash tray despite being a non-smoker and yours being a a small woman’s bust, just to add decor in your home.

conversation flows, sharing hobbies, favorite food, travel spots, respective jobs, recommended music genres, best recipes for drinks, niche interests.

even then jihyo notices when the paint gets on your arm, her hands moving before she can think

“here let me” she basically focused on only you, barely on the ash tray she chose to paint. her hands already gently wiping the paint on your arm and her body inching closer towards yours

it’s only then you realize that she’s so close to your face when she looks up, your breaths tangling in the air, your lips only a few inches apart

“mhm” so close she is so close, but much to your disappointment, one of the organizers comes by to check on your progress, effectively making jihyo pull away a respectable arm’s reach before reassuring that everything is going well bb

damn were you expecting a kiss?

you don’t know how to even explain it

still you find that her company is nice, her jokes are good and makes you laugh, that she’s attentive and helps you remember to paint carefully, her smile now finally engraved in your head.

so when the paint dries, you get some food, you can’t deny that you’re into her. the way she smiles at every delighted sound as you eat, the way she becomes ‘angry’ with every bite, the way she wipes away any food or sauce near your lips with her thumb, her eyes lingering a bit too long for you to deny it.

so dinner is also good, amazing even, because wow you just learned that the world is small, and your roommate is apparently childhood friends with her roommate. so the only thing keeping you both from meeting each other any time sooner is because she’s so busy

jihyo also find this whole experience amazing, because she’s managed to keep you giggly this entire time, she’s now a person closer to seeing you again and again, she can take you out for coffee every weekend when she has to drag momo to sana for their weekly hangouts.

oh and yeah the food gets paid by jihyo. even if you protest it goes in vain, and she teases you to simply return the favor next time.

“next time?” you playfully scoff, walking towards the exit with jihyo, your arms linked together, eyes once more on you in either with happiness or in envy “what makes you think of a next time”

she opens the door for you, and leads you out of the prying eyes of others, but it doesn’t matter. not when you both only have it on each other

“i just know sweet girl” jihyo is cocky, but she’ll make you love this side of her more and more you see her “i just know”

KA-BOOM

the sound of thunder redirects both of you to look up at the sky, the rain pouring down on the city. both of you completely forgetting to check the weather app before leaving

“i forgot my umbrella” you look up at the sky, the lightning flashes dancing around, indicating that rain is all night. maybe even until the morning

jihyo also looks up, the first drops of rain splattering down at the side walk in front of them. it doesn’t get any of you wet, but she looks at you, and notices your eyes dimming at the thought of rain and no umbrella

“i can drive you home” jihyo says without a thought

“oh you’re so sweet but i really don’t want to bother you. it’s late and i don’t want to overstep anything”

“nonsense” she’s already wrapping her jacket around you, you’re breath hitching at how looking up at her is changing your brain “i have to make sure this gorgeous girl gets home safe”

she runs off to her car across the street before you can even reply, gawking at how bold she is and how much you are enjoying it. one hand holding both of your bags with your art works inside, and the other holding the leather jacket to keep you warm.

you barely have to wait a minute on the entrance of the restaurant, when jihyo returns, the large clear umbrella enough to keep you dry. she helps you stand up, zip up the jacket and pats down your dress.

she’s already grabbing your things before you can argue, shushing you up and leading both of you towards her car, which she drives you home with all the songs you tell her sounds nice, and her hand holding yours over the gear stick.

“i had fun tonight” you guys arrive at your apartment building, your fantasy coming to an end “especially with you”

jihyo doesn’t want this dream to stop

so she does what her heart tells her to.

in the future, she tends to flush red at the remembrance that she leaned too far and has to tilt her head up, just to kiss you. her hands resting gently on your waist and your arms on top of her shoulders, leaving you both star struck

“is that ok?” jihyo is nervous when she pulls away and looks at you, eyes closed and lips parted, tempting her to go for another kiss

“mhm” she melts when you open your eyes and give her a smile, the one that punches her in the gut “can i get another one? preferably right now and another one on my couch”