#i need to practice drawing backgrounds because this shit killed me

[koddlet]

based on the cut scene from the 2.07 script...

[omaano]

SW Hades AU May Status Update

I wanted to make a dedicated post about what I’m currently working on for the Star Wars meets Hades AU that looks more consistent than just sharing bits and pieces whenever I’m tagged in a Last Line Challenge. Because what else do I have but the poly sketch requests and this AU for my weekends? (If nothing else I know that the Hades AU has got me XD)

Other updates: June - July - August

For now Obi-Wan and Maul are stuck at the same stage: they are both lined, have their base colours down as well as the two adjustment layers of coloured lighting.

I suspect if I were ever to get through the agonozing few hours of shading Obi-wan’s face it would be mostly smooth sailing from there. The problem is that there are at least 2 - if not 3 - separate stages where the shaded face looks like I have no idea what I’m doing, and you need to get through the whole thing before it really comes together 😅 on the other hand Hades 2 has a lot of the directional shading I might need for his character art so that might help to get me there.

It also needs to be said that Obi-Wan comes with the extra disadvantage that is the entire background behind him. I’m really hyped to line it finally, it is quite a challenge, but at the same time I’m slowly coming to the realization that I have no idea how I will colour it. Hades backgrounds are so so pretty and full of details and gorgeous colours, and while I’m not delusional enough to think I could match that on first try… I still wish I could, you know? At the same time I will have to erase or recolour a lot of my lines, which will hurt quite a bit, I imagine. I’m so bad at killing my darlings 😅 also I hate laying down flat colours. I just find it very difficult to immerse myself in that process, while lining and shading can have their flow.

I had covered up so many lines and details in Maul’s spider parts it’s a miracle I didn’t cry XD However, tips on grouping my shadows and allowing the shape to speak for itself and the details in them are very helpful and on point.

Worrying over writing dialogue for them is also not as far down my to-do list as I wish it were. I have a good enough idea for a quip for Obi-wan, but Maul? He’d need a whole melodramatic rant of his own XD

Aphra has gotten some new lines and I had fixed the satchel I had forgotten the last time I shared the rough sketch for her, thanks to the new character art for Hades 2! Seeing Odysseus and Hermès’s updated looks were great helps here, so I might as well move on to lining her, and finally adding another female character to the roster on top of Ahsoka!

And then there is the biggest update on these little guys below! I will need to clean up the ones I had drawn for Cobb and Boba (and Din) well over a year ago, but with these my version of chtonic companions are done, and thanks to @lesquatrechevrons I have a full list of keepsakes for each character as well. I’m not very good at drawing these little tchotchkes (I say with Rex’s blaster right there LOL) but I hadn’t been very good at lineart or cell shading when I started this project either, so through forced practice I’m determined to change that :D

(It’s not a screwdriver under Boga, it’s one of Cody’s antennas. “It will grow back, don’t worry,” he says as he snaps it off his pauldron and hands it over to Din. Rex backs him up on that one without question. They can't lie for shit but trolling the shiny is their thing.)

Additional fun fact: the reason why I’d picked up the chtonic companions concepts was because I’d been poking at minor details in the background behind Maul (aside from the Chaos doors), and I started adding credits and recoloured nectar to the corner (before I realized that they wouldn’t be visible once the character interaction comes up oops), and I tried to figure out to whose keepsakes Maul would react favorably. I also mixed up companion dolls and keepsakes, so that’s why the Ahsoka doll came to being (I also forgot that that one belongs to Rex, and not Ahsoka herself but uh… they are close enough that they should count by proxy anyway. It’s not Obi-wan’s cup of tea and that should be enough!). Also bless @mapleowl18 for suggesting Lil Soka as companion for Rex ❤️

So this is the current state of this AU project right now. I have my lists and notes, a few scribbled pose ideas in my sketchbook for Sabine (she might be next, unless Bo and her Nite Owls make a comeback), Satine and Omega (with Batcher), as well as some angry scribbles and question marks for Quinlan (who has apparently made his way back into this AU even though he didn’t get a little icon of his own originally orz), and Obi-wan The Second that would stand with Cody post reunion, but I cannot make that one work for now 😅

[fauxraven]

The Time Paradigm [V]

pairing: Dream of the Endless x fem!reader

summary: questions, betrayal, answers and the love of a good dream

warnings: gore, allusions to smut, reader is horny?

word count: 3.8k

Enter the Dream, weary traveller

Chapter V: Library of Everlasting Deceit

As first centaur on Olympus, head chirurgeon and occasional husband of a demi-god, Chiron has seen more than what the whole of creation entails.

And yet, when she finds him in his anteroom, sharing her odd request, he finds himself rethinking his lives.

‘’You expect me to do what?’’

‘’Open it up. Pop it open, whatever, however.’’ She says simply, leaning back against a bookshelf stationed behind her stool.

‘’Open you up, you mean?’’

‘’I’m not familiar with the logistics. Just do what they do on CSI.’’ He blinks, drawing a sigh from her. ‘’The Closer? Forever? IZombie? I’m running out of relevant examples if it isn’t obvious.’’

‘’You are indeed a strange girl. But you are mad, if you think I’m going to do that to you.’’

‘’I would do it myself but I don’t know how. What’s this for?’’

A flash of silver shimmers under the sunlight—he snatches it from her curious fingers just as quickly. ‘’Just the scar, then. But only because you’re a menace to yourself and others. We should have you in chains.’’

‘’Kinky. Why no stitches?’’

He gets to work, slowly peeling the bandage off. ‘’The wound itself seemed—what in Tartarus?’’

‘’Like I ate Wonka’s chocolate bar, wrapper and Golden Ticket included, I know. On the plus side, my entrails could easily pay off five student loans. Probably only just one—come to think of it.’’

‘’As a doctor, I strongly advise you to leave and see it cleaned but as a man of science…’’

‘’Come on, Doc. I know you’re just itching to do it.’’

His bespectacled eyes lift, a sheen of maroon beads shimmering with curiosity. She knows victory.

‘’Only just a little then…’’ he mumbles in his heavy beard. Between one blink and the next, he holds the same strangely-shaped tools she couldn’t name to save her life. She ignores all dutifully save for one that looks an awful lot like forceps; it bears the same icy cold feeling when it skims across her torn flesh.

‘’What’s that for?’’

Sensing her sudden unease, he feeds her the directions one by one, explaining his ministrations as clearly as possible, after which he provides a drink of sorts and lets her lay down, exposing her broken skin and trembling eyelids.

‘’Are you hurting?’’

‘’No, no it’s okay. I don’t feel anything. Not a fan of blood though.’’

‘’Are you squeamish?’’

‘’Not squeamish, just… sensitive,’’ she groans, the tell-tale of clanging things and squishing insides burning a hole through her throat. He tips his head, lips upturning into a grin. ‘’Don’t mock me.’’

‘’I am not, mocking you. I simply find myself amused.’’

‘’That’s the definition of mocking someone.’’

‘’You threw yourself in front of a flying blade for the Lord of Dreams but you feel faint at the sight of blood.’’

‘’Not blood. Just… large quantities of it—especially mine. Okay?’’

‘’Okay.’’

‘’Get on with it, please.’’

It feels like forever and ever before he speaks again. The wet squelching fades away in the gilded background the anteroom provides.

‘’You have a beautiful sternum.’’

‘’Thanks. Why are we in your rooms? Where’s your medical practice?’’

Something drops in a bowl, leaving behind a hollow thud and more squelching.

‘’This is my medical practice. It might come as a shock but doctors are rarely needed on Mount Olympus.’’

‘’The whole immortality thing is really killing business, eh? Do you have a license?’’

‘’Hush.’’

‘’Yes, mom.’’

‘’There seems to be something lodged in—‘’

Crack.

‘’Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy—that better not be me!’’

‘’That is a lovely dress you are wearing. What shade of blue is it?’’

‘’It’s green. And I know you’re trying to distract me. It isn’t going to work.’’

‘’The Dream Lord asked about you.’'

''He did?''

''In the days you slept, he required to be made aware of your whereabouts. Your name. Your recovery. His sister tells me he meant to send a gift as thanks. I did find it quite peculiar, since you'd have entered his realm in three days.''

''I was too exhausted.'' Even then, from a table-improvised-stretcher, she feels a liquid feeling of longing dripping through the naves of her heart, filling it up with hope.

Could she return to the Dreaming? If not hers, at least some version of it? Did she want that? A pale copy of her home? What did it even look like, in this day and age?

Beautiful, most definitely, but bare of any lingering traces of their love.

''Why are they here? The Endless?'' she asks after a pause, painful images of churning emerald skies and dark sands fading behind her eyelids.

''They are guests of honor, under Zeus' protection.''

Some protection.

‘’But someone thought it would be a good idea to come at Dream with a knife?’’

‘’It did do damage—which you have mended quite impressively. The scar was just fading when I attended to him.’’

‘’You did? How did he—how is he? He says he’s alright but I know it’s a lie.’’

He spares her another glance over round spectacles. ‘’The Dream Lord is… the Dream Lord. He seldom speaks his feelings.’’

‘’You’re telling me. It took a month for—‘’ Blowing your own cover, way to go. ‘’—For me to open up to my friends, about my past.’’

‘’Whatever trials you may have endured, I’d say you’ve come out a very fierce young woman. Very powerful.’’

‘’You kind of have to say that. I mean, I was nearly a shish kebab. What did you tell him?’’

‘’That you were not my charge—that he should ask Adiona.’’

‘’Because Adiona’s my mom now, is she? She never tells me anything.’’

‘’Adiona is many things; sharing is not one of them.’’

‘’I think she just misses her heart.’’

She's stunned a centaur, how the turn-tables.

‘’She didn’t tell me anything. I’ve got an X-ray vision when it comes do these things. And I… guess I understand the feeling.’’

''Abeona is expected for Kronia. She shall not be sorrowful much longer.''

''Is that some sort of grecian holiday?''

''Kronia is... many things that my meager words cannot do justice, I'm afraid. It is held at the end of the harvests, when the offerings are the ripest—in a few weeks, you'll see.''

The coin drops with a clang.

The bowl holds it, letting it swirl in reddish water, washing away blood, tears and the heart-wrenching realization that she is expected to stay. And she would; she will, if he asks.

She sits up before he cares to stop her.

''What is that?''

''I don't know. A broken bit of blade?''

But it isn't a broken bit of anything.

In fact, it's a whole thing, full, round and slightly bumpy, a direct consequence of long days of aimless trekking through her insides.

She hasn't seen many in her life, always figuring they were only used by MI6, downright psychopaths, and that one guy whose subreddit is filled with death threats and promises of never hiding in a cupboard again—but she recognizes it instantly.

Lo and behold, gents of forgotten times and hopeless hopes: an AirTag.

⌛︎ ⌛︎ ⌛︎

An AirTag. A fucking AirTag.

Round as a button, tiny as a toddler’s tooth—complete with the half-bitten apple.

They put a fucking tracker in her abdomen; branded her like aging livestock, ripe for the taking.

But deep within the recesses of her mind, someplace anger has not yet reached, she knows the knife was initially meant for Morpheus and dreads.

Was this their plan? Tracking his every move?

She had serious doubts an AirTag in this time and age would be a breeze to follow through realms.

But, back to the matter at hand: the guy had stabbed and branded her in the same breath!

Nevertheless, she thinks she showed discernment and maturity in making the right call.

In fact, she’d promptly dropped the AirTag in water and then crushed it under her sandal for good measure.

She’d had a half mind to toss it out the window-that’s-not-really-a-window-at-all and watch it slam through clouds, but Chiron had stopped her.

Before his inquisitive gaze, she’d had no answers.

She’d simply left him the offending piece of technology for safekeeping and told her she’d be back for it, and off she’d gone on her quest for answers.

Of course, the AirTag itself provided a few.

Firstly, the attacker’s sanity was waning rapidly.

Secondly, the knife hadn’t been a knife at all for it had hurt Dream. Inflicting bodily harm on an Endless, no matter how slight, meant someone was scavenging this world with a weapon unlike anything this world had ever seen. Or ever will see.

Because the attacker was undoubtedly, unequivocally from her own time.

What did that have to do with her? What had she done?

Had that vile pointy-eared man crossed over with her? Had he been there, in the Library of Everlasting Dreams when it all went down?

A library, she thinks through her scattered thoughts, a library is exactly what she needs to find.

She stumbles through the endless halls—she's never been good at orienteering, has only a few memories of pitiful grades, muddy sneakers and a strong dislike for P.E, but she perseveres and treads the unknown natural habitat of the greek gods.

She's in love with an Endless, but the fact that she's on Mount Olympus remains the most challenging thing in her world, in spite of all she and Morpheus have put each other through.

Love is testing; love is rage and sometimes love is just love, but it has always been enough for her. And now that she finds herself deprived of it, she wishes for more.

But onto the AirTag and the gilded halls and the distant music and the bird.

The bird.

The raven, in fact, that stands in an open doorway, perched on twig-thin legs, sharp talons facing her disastrous sight.

Jessamy blinks, owlish ebony staring at her as though she can see straight through her soul; she'd worry, had she any.

''Quite a number you pulled the other day, hun. You disappeared on me; us girls have got to stick together, do we not?''

Obsidian beads flutter knowingly.

''You wouldn't happen to know where I could find a half-decent library around here, would you?''

The sound of her wings, and she takes off running after the raven.

Infinity blurs before her eyes in golden hues and sharp turns. She twists, darts through an arched hall and then pushes a heavy set of doors.

They burst open on a scene worthy of dreams.

An endless room, wooden bookcases stretch around her, stacked up to the grecian fresque painted on the high ceiling.

Idly, with her jaw on the floor, she follows the swirling shapes of lean muscle and dexterous limbs—it paints a story of gods and the creation of a world, all the battles and the loves and the sorrows and the clouds. Sharp javelins and sandaled feet—the gods are painted with exaggerated accuracy, the battle seemingly forming a perfect circle around a regal group of seven individuals.

Seven entities, all powerful, all determined, all engaged. Far away from the battle, running away from the fallout—but endless, in their presence.

She'd always admired that in him; his ability to steer clear of conflict, even when it so bothered him. She loved him for it and so much more.

She loved the Library of Dreams too.

This library, however huge, however rich, however woven with dreams, pales in comparison to the real article, the one where she's left her own heart.

But it will have to do.

Now, she doubts that she can find much about AirTags within these pages, but still she roams between the giant shelves, hoping to encounter a librarian of some sort.

Jessamy watches her, walks with her even, with nothing but the occasional flutter of a wing to acknowledge her companionship.

''Seen a book-keeper?''

Jessamy gives the slightest hint of a silent shrug—as slight as one can manage without shoulders.

She moves on.

‘’Hello?’’ Her voice echoes off the cracked walls, making it sound far away in a hazy dream.

Morpheus chastises her from above, sand sifting through his open hand, one finger of the other grazing his puckered lips.

A command.

A caress.

She can almost feel it, slipping through her fingers like his own golden grains.

‘’Where’s Lucienne when you need her?’’ She whispers under her breath, turning away from the ceiling painting, advancing to the shelves. She engulfs herself between two sturdy pieces of furniture, shielding away all hope of light and golden walls. She almost misses them.

She doesn’t read Greek.

She never ever has read Greek. She’d tried her luck on an app once—failed epically.

She only knows the letter ρ from old circular traumas revolving around seventh grade algebra. But the letters appear as they are, all Greek and Grecian and… swirling?

Before her bewildered eyes, the shapes curl, uncurl, turn and wiggle until the letters rearrange, reassemble and reform into her native tongue and alphabet.

Half-freaked out of her mind, she draws closer, brushing her finger over the various spines. All sorts of hardcovers with the same kind of gilded writings on the spines, distinguishable only by colour and size.

She plucks a green volume from the shelf; it gives a groan in return.

‘’The Loved and The Lost, by Circe,’’ she reads. ‘’Or How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.’’

Jessamy acknowledges her with a soft caw!

‘’What? I’m not completely clueless. Ha! Something else that doesn’t exist yet! Something else that is so very far from home.’’

She crams the book back where she found it. She isn’t here to reminisce, neither to wallow.

Another book falls into her hands, a hefty tome on genealogy.

‘’Nope. Not going there.’’

It snaps shut and shoves itself into the bookcase again. She follows the movement, finds the pattern. All the books in this section are labelled C.

Circe, Clio, Calypso, Chiron, and something called a Crommyonian Saw.

Just like any other library, she thinks, browsing through the shelves. She’s looking for something important, something big and nice and endless—

O.

Oceanus.

Ouranos.

Oneiros.

There aren’t any written by his hand specifically, but there is one that tells of his story. He’s been put in the title as co-author of his Memoirs of a Dream and it’s funny because she knows he’d be caught dead before he was associated to anything of the likes.

She reaches up on tiptoes; jumps, holds out her arm and stretches the skin that had been so meticulously stitched back up mere moments ago, to no avail. The book remains out of her grasp.

She asks Jessamy for help and the book finally falls into her hand. His hand. It’s hard to tell; sometimes, it’s like they’re the same person, sharing one heart and one bed.

But the pale hand that withdraws the thick tome is most definitely not her own.

She watches as it retreats, hovers over her head for a second and then falls into the empty air behind her.

She turns. His unwillingly narrated Memoirs paint a standoffish man, often cold, often dismissive—a king.

A king of soft, milky skin, nearly shining and burning eyes of twinkling stars. A coat of midnight dust and the universe itself. A heart of diamond and her.

But in truth, he is so much more. To her. To everyone.

He offers the book with a graceful hand, and she finds herself staring at the way his porcelain skin stretches across his lean fingers and clean nails. She’s always loved these fingers. She’s always loved every part of him. But his fingers, she could hold them, she could kiss them. Oh, the things these fingers could do—

She smacks herself internally. Something has drawn her from her stupor.

His lips are parted, his eyes expectant. He spoke when she could only hear the turbulent thundering of her own heart.

‘’Thank you.’’

He nods; the mimic is lost to the universe. She wants to kiss him, to feel herself melt against those pouty lips. Instead, she turns to Jessamy.

‘’Traitor.’’

‘’Jessamy had your best interests at heart.’’

She blinks. Holds the book to her chest. ‘’It’s so weird, the way you say her name. Without—‘’

Pain. Sorrow. Guilt.

‘’Thank you, for the book.’’

‘’You are very welcome.’’

Why does he have to say everything with such depth? Why does he always leave her trembling?

Kiss me. Hold me. Never let me go.

His eyes leave hers, she thinks she might faint. His sparkling gaze has found a new target—it ricochets across her new peplos as if it can see through the garment, to the freshly-bandaged wound.

‘’Chiron tells me it’ll leave a nasty scar,’’ she explains before he has the chance to say anything. And she can’t give him the chance, because she can’t stop at all. ‘’That’s fine. I’m told you dig those anyway. Not you specifically, I just meant guys in general—not that I’m trying to get with anyone. I’m not even trying to impress anyone, I’m free; free as the wind—but apparently he’s a god who’s also hitched so probably not the best comparison, feel free to stop me any minute now.’’

The words pour out of her gaping mouth with vivid accuracy, embarrassment and a thinly-veiled fondness he fails to acknowledge.

‘’I like the sound of your voice.’’

Fuck.

She clears her throat, stays her nerves, hangs onto the book for dear life.

I was doing research about you. I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.

‘’I’m sorry I took off like that.’’

He looks offended she would even say those words. ‘’Do not be. You were in need of care.’’

‘’Obvs. But I don’t really know the social code here and everyone was being so nice.’’

‘’As they should,’’ his voice drops to the low baritone she’s heard only during bouts of anger and thorough afternoon delights. It leaves her weak in the knees. She feels hot all over, rendered thoughtless and speechless by that voice of his.

She would try to convince him that they have no obligation to her whatsoever, that all she’s done, she’s done for the most selfish reason of all—love—but under his molten gaze, she simply nods.

‘’You didn’t have to leave the party. Everything seemed… really fun.’’

‘’It was not.’’

‘‘You never came to see me.’’

Her chin dips and she almost misses the furtive blink his ethereal eyes give.

‘’I did not wish to encroach on your recovery.’’

‘’That’s…’’ Stupid. Hell. Love. ‘’Very thoughtful.’’

‘’I admit I have been restless, deprived of news of you. But in your absence, you did not once visit my realm.’’

Minor technical difficulties, she hoped.

‘’I was looking you up,’’ she surrenders with a whisper. ‘’Because I don’t like parties and because I’m also terrified of Adiona. Don’t tell her; it gives her power.’’

His eyes sweep over her beet red face and then fall to the book within her grasp. His lips twist into a sneer.

‘’Got something against books?’’

‘’Not all, but I advise you to tread with caution. Artistic license seems to be the author’s incentive when it comes to this volume.’’

‘’Why? Because she tells the truth?’’ There is no malicious intent behind her words, there never have been, but she can clearly see the shadows in the depth of his eyes. They expand, stretch, spread through the swirling cosmos of his sparkling gaze like the Beast of Judgement snuffing all hope of light—the end at the end of everything. The crimson jewel glows around his neck, shining a bright ruby red. She knows she’s upset him.

‘’Some truths had better stay buried.’’

‘’But is it a truth if it remains unspoken?’’

‘’The legitimacy of a statement does not lie in its wording.’’

‘’So a truth is always a truth? Wise words from the King of Lies.’’

‘’Very well—‘’ he makes to turn, to leave her all alone all over again.

He doesn’t wish to fight her, she realises. Because he cares—considers her, at the very least. Because she’s saved his life and he’s spent every minute of the past few days worrying to death over a woman who’d sacrificed her heart and sanity for him; to him.

‘’I would never turn away from your truth, Morpheus. Never have.’’

He isn’t angry.

She knows his anger all too well.

He is upset, yes, frustrated, dark, disgruntled; he has the personality of a wet cat, and when he turns to her, his eyes are clouded over, feral.

But this isn’t anger.

This is something else that makes her tenfold as frightened.

She offers truce—a dark hardcover filled with lies—stories, truths, everything in between.

He ignores it.

She burns even redder with shame.

‘’Where do you come from?’’

The Fates. ‘’New Jersey.’’

‘’Where do you really come from?’’

Adiona. ‘’Does it matter?’’

‘’More than anything.’’

‘‘Why?’’

‘’I wish to know you.’’

‘’You know my name.’’

‘’I wish to know more.’’

‘’Please, don’t do this.’’

‘’Why?’’

‘’Because I might tell you.’’

He pauses. Just as well; she’d break a thousand times over before she told him. Two thousand times afterwards.

He draws closer, by a single measured step—languid and lazy, calculated, purposeful and so very hot she feels she might faint. He treads cautiously, testing the waters.

He wouldn’t cross any boundaries, she knows this, but when his gaze burns into hers, she fears she might want him to.

She wants to.

His eyes pour a trail of gasoline across her flushed neck, over her heaving chest and the graceful slope where her neck meets her shoulder. She drops the match that lights her ablaze.

‘’You know my name.’’ Her voice whispers in the back of her throat. He stands too close to her fragile heart.

‘’Tell me more.’’ He repeats just as gently.

Sweet and sweeter memories come rushing back.

Tickling whispers of love and eternal devotion, tangled limbs and dream sheets, a heart and a question.

She gives in.

Breathless and quite literally hot and bothered, she takes a step toward him. Opens her mouth. Falls into his arms.

Wordlessly, he carries her limp form to Chiron’s medical practice.

She has fainted.

More on the consequences of love in Chapter VI: Mutually Assured Salvation

[ziltoidcoffee]

Requesting more LawRusso headcanons! How do you see their domestic life together in CK era? Who does the shopping and cooking? I am thinking Daniel! As the male wife he is!

(Yay for more Lawrusso! 💜 This was super inspiring. I agree with you, anon. Probably Daniel. XD Maybe Johnny would try, but Daniel is like not sure I can lower my standards. Hope you like this drabble!)

Johnny is watching the new Top Gun on DVD when his cellphone rings. It's not like he's paying that much attention. He saw it multiple times in the theaters with Miguel and Daniel. But he is reclining on the couch in a position of near-perfect comfort with a bowl of cheese puffs on the coffee table. But he buzz of his phone vibrating in his pocket is a distraction, enough to bring him back into unpleasant self-awareness.

He grimaces at the television and grabs the remote to pause the movie anyway, not willing to miss his favorite part. Then he drags his phone free from his jeans and huffs in amusement at the name on his screen. Johnny considers letting it go to voicemail to annoy Daniel, but the lecture he would receive when his boyfriend comes home sways his decision.

"What?" Johnny answers after pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello to you too, Johnny,” Daniel's voice is sharper and higher-pitched on the phone than in person, but Johnny smiles at the sound anyway. “Do you always answer the phone like that, or just when I call you?"

“Only for you, babe,” he teases,

Daniel's huff is unimpressed. “As if you ever get calls from anyone but me or the kids."

“Then why bother asking?" Johnny asks, flipping the remote around in his free hand. “What'd you call for?"

He can hear the exhale of frustration Daniel makes against the phone, and Johnny can practically see his drawn-out eye roll without even being there. “What kind of fabric softener do you want?”

Johnny frowns at the ceiling. “Huh?" he asks. "I don’t care. Why are you asking me?”

“We use it on clothes,” Daniel answers, drawing the words out with condescension like Johnny is an actual child.

"I know what fabric softener is," Johnny snaps.

Daniel chuckles. "Okay, well, I never saw it at your place. So I don't know what kind you prefer."

“It doesn’t matter,” Johnny tells him. “Just get whatever’s cheapest.”

“The cheapest one? It's scented. Called Springtime breeze."

Johnny's grimace would speak for him if Daniel were in the room to see, but he has to speak up. “Not that one."

“So you do have a preference,” Daniel says as if he’s won some debate.

Now Johnny’s the one rolling his eyes. "A preference against girly shit, yeah."

"It's just softener, Johnny,” Daniel sighs.

“You're the one who does all the laundry. Just get whatever you like," Johnny tells him for what feels like the fifth time.

There's a noise in the background like Daniel's thrown something into a shopping cart. "I'm just trying to be considerate," he mutters.

Johnny resists the urge to keep arguing and takes a breath like Miguel taught him. "I appreciate it," he grits out. "But I don't really care."

“Okay, but you give the worst instructions,” Daniel informs him. “Next time you're coming with me."

“You said that last time too,” Johnny points out.

“Because you groan and moan like I'm killing you," his boyfriend snaps. "It's faster if I come alone."

“But what about the time you've wasted calling me to bitch?” Johnny says and gets what he's certain is a silent scowl in response. He grins and slouches back against the couch, wondering if he can get Daniel angrier. “Just get whatever you want and come home. The dishes need to be done, and I'm already feeling hungry. So you should pick up some steaks too.” He can hear Daniel grit his teeth. "Do it yourself! I ain't your maid!"

Johnny's smile widens. "No, you're my little housewife."

Daniel's exhale is so harsh this time that Johnny can predict the shouting before he starts. “I am not— ” Johnny draws the phone away from his face until his boyfriend's complaint is inaudible. Then he waits a minute to hear Daniel's voice gain pitch and speed before he swipes to end the call.

It’ll take a minute for Daniel to realize Johnny has hung up on him, but he probably won't try to call again. Johnny turns his head to look back at the TV and grabs the remote to resume the movie.

His little housewife will be home soon, and whatever Johnny does until then won't be as fun as when Daniel gets here.

[lookbluesoup]

What was your inspiration for Lyhra's quirky personality? Which of your oc does she get along with the least? What about the most?

This is very convoluted and probably not as interesting to read about as it was to experience but here we go!

Lyrha wass…. tricky. I originally conceptualized her as a character to ship with X'rhun for spicy reasons (can you blame me???). But remained stumped for MONTHS on how to actually develop her, what she should be like in personality and how they would ultimately connect. She was just in the back of my mind slow cooking.

I briefly merged her with another very loose character idea I'd never developed from my wolf rp days. Named Illaria. Illaria did not have a design, but she had some (very) basic backstory bullet points - taken as a young child, manipulated by a powerful male figure who claimed to be showing her "the truth", bitter when she realized she'd been used. I wasn't confident I would keep any of those story beats, I still didn't relate them to her FFXIV self, but at least had something penciled in.

I decided to draw wolf Illaria. Because wolves are still easier for me to draw on account of having so many more years of practice with them. So she needed a design.

Now for those unfamiliar with cartoon animal story land, a lot of people on websites like deviantart will sell a whole bunch of designs lined up in rows on one big image. And sometimes they get silly names to tell them apart so you can avoid any confusion about which one you are trying to buy. That probably happens in other circles too, but I know it from animal rp land. Several years ago I'd bought a design from one of these sheets and thought, well, I haven't used this one before. It will do! It came from a set named after food. It was named "Popcorn Shrimp." Behold Lyrha as "Popcorn Shrimp:"

I shared the art with my FC and lamented my lack of any definitive progress. One of them was amused by the Popcorn Shrimp label. And then suggested I take inspiration from the name and make her a fisherman from Limsa Lominsa.

And me, liking my angst, went, why don't we take that a step further and say she was a pirate. A slaver, even. She can have a "shit, i have a conscience now" moment over the course of her Red Mage arc! Now we've got some drama!

That FC mate has an oc that was kidnapped from the Steppe as a child and sold into slavery. She escaped with the help of the Rogue's Guild in Limsa Lominsa. My character could be one of the ones that had captured her!

And me, liking my whump, thought - well, the Rogue's Guild could nearly manage to kill her in the raid. She could escape, be found wounded by X'rhun, and grabbed by fate against her will onto a better path. And Bam. There she was. I'lyrha developed pretty steadily from there, it all just kinda fell into place. Popcorn Shrimp.

A lot of her quirks then come from her background as a pirate/sailor, leaning into tropes like the superstitions, arrogance & greed, stubbornness, fiery spirit, flexible morals, a uh, high libido, in some form or another. While she's a serious character... I still want her to be entertaining, so I enjoy playing up the more extreme traits of hers.

The conflict between who she starts out as and who she eventually becomes also just provides a lot of opportunities for her to do things that don't quite make sense from a well-adjusted standpoint. She is incredibly smart, but she's a survivor of horrors. She comes from an upbringing that doesn't align with conventional thought (among Eorzeans). Her worldview is unique. She doesn't blend in, and for the most part she's ok with that. Lyrha definitely walks to the beat of her own drum.

And in that respect a lot of her starting traits are also meant to contrast or compliment X'rhun's personality. She's young and stormy, he's older and has self-control. She's jaded and self-centered, he's idealistic and charitable. They are both incredibly passionate.

In game X'rhun is... exuberant. He's pretty quirky, lets be honest. So it made sense that they should be kindred spirits, and that Lyrha should be equally capable of... exuberance. It's a way for her to connect with the Red Mage way of life. She's not a pirate anymore, but being a spunky little gremlin backflipping over an enemy and then setting them on fire suits her just as well.

As far as who she gets along with... most of them, actually! She's not BFFs with Nahte, but they meet through X'rhun and Alisaie. Lyrha never joins the Scions, but alongside X'rhun and Arya she does help them several times, especially at junctures in MSQ where, in game, you have to party up to clear a dungeon, trial, etc.

There are definitely other characters she doesn't vibe with, like the pirate captain who kidnapped her as a child, raised her for a few years as part of his crew, and then tried to sell her off when he got a high enough offer - though these belong to other people and aren't my ocs! As another bit of trivia, her and @seasaltandcopper s A'mahl had a one-night stand, years ago before they ever met their respective partners. He'd never been with a woman before. She hasn't let him live that down.

[jinkicake]

Fuck No Baby~

Kenma/Sakusa/Tsukishima with a high school pregnancy scare.

Kozume Kenma x Reader

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

Tsukishima Kei x Reader

For Anon,,, I hope you like it!!! Ah~~ This took me so long to write, I don’t even know why LOL. I had fun writing it doe,,,, hopefully I was able to correct any mistakes I made because rereading almost three thousand words over and over again melted my brain ESP bc it was my own words,,, 

WC- 2,765

~~~

Kozume Kenma

Now….. Kenma,,,,, my sweet baby boy. He would know something is wrong with you the minute you start acting differently

He wouldn’t say anything though, not yet, he would just watch you with hawk eyes

He’d analyze everything you do and try to figure out what is upsetting you

Is it school? Your parents? Lev? Himself? What is wrong?

He’d probably ask Kuroo if he noticed anything different about you and, of course, Kuroo who can’t lie would be like “n-no”

When you finally tell Kenma that you think you’re pregnant, Kenma would be like "well how do you know?"

He’d be like “Did you take a test? Did you not get your period? Is it because you were stressed that you didn’t get your period?” And you’d be like ‘uhhhh I didn’t think about all that sir’

Cue Kenma scolding you for being so worrisome, he’d still hold your hand and try to calm you down and go get pregnancy test with you

He’d probably research a lot about pregnancy just to mentally prepare but then you come out with three negative tests and Kuroo is in the background like ‘I KNEW IT’

Then Kenma will get all mad again and ignore the two of you for leaving him out of the loop

Kenma stares at you from behind his psp, his chest tightens at the way you are holding onto Kuroo. Recently, you have been hanging out with your best friend more than your own boyfriend. Kenma normally would not care, he likes that you two hang out and leave him alone but lately it has been irritating him in a way he doesn’t quite understand. It is all the time, you always are with Kuroo instead of him. It’s almost like you two have gotten closer in a way and the insecurities of not being good enough cloud over Kenma’s head. He always knew you and Kuroo got along in ways that he wouldn’t understand, he has seen it growing up with the two of you. He never thought he would have to worry about it though.

“You need to tell him (Y/N).” Kuroo scolds and Kenma feels his ears perk up as he tries to listen in. 


“I’m not telling him,” You stubbornly stick your nose up into the air and Kuroo folds his arms over his chest disapprovingly. 

“If you don’t then I will.” Kuroo threatens and you can hide the betrayal off of your face. “He deserves to know.”


“What the fuck?! What about bro code?” You fumble your words as your heart beats frantically in your chest. 

“(Y/N) this isn’t some little thing you can sweep under the rug, you need to tell him.” Kuroo tells you and you stare at the ground. 

“Fuck off Kuroo, I’m not ready to tell him shit and now I’m not going to tell you anything either.” You frown in frustration and storm off to the gym. Kenma pretends like he didn’t hear any of the conversation but when Kuroo steps in front of him with that knowing sigh, Kenma doesn’t even try to pretend. 

“I don’t know how you put up with her.” Kuroo comments and sits down next to him, Kenma only narrows his eyes at the way he insulted you. Kuroo takes in a deep breath and quietly thinks for a moment. “Fuck, I have to tell you-“


“I don’t want to know.” Kenma tells him and Kuroo spits out in shock. “If she doesn’t want to tell me then I don’t want to know it.”


“Kenma you need to know.” Kuroo starts and Kenma stands up from the ground, wiping his thighs off before glancing down at his friend.

“Then I’ll go ask her.” Kenma walks away and Kuroo holds his hands up defensively, wishing him good luck. Kenma finds you laying against the bleachers, dramatically drawing shapes in the sky with your finger. 

“(Y/N).” Kenma calls out to you and you flinch before closing your eyes. 


“Yes, my love?” You ask innocently and Kenma has to refrain from rolling his eyes. 

“You have something to tell me.” He demands and you open your mouth to deny it however as you do so, the eery familiar sick feeling twitches in your gut and you hold up a finger to silence your boyfriend. “(Y/N),”

“I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.” You start, your throat starts to close up, and Kenma rests his hand over yours. 


“You’ll never disappoint me, you know that.” Kenma reassures you and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

“What if, I was pregnant?” You ask and Kenma flinches at your words. 

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats and you shake your head. 


“I might be, I mean I think I am.” At your words, Kenma pinches your nose and makes it harder for you to breathe. “Your first thought is to kill me?!” You screech.

“Did you even take a pregnancy test or think for a second that maybe your period is just late? Did you even recall that you went on a long plane ride to another country last week and maybe that offset your balance? God, (Y/N) you went to Kuroo with this and not me?” Kenma rants and you guiltily curl in on yourself, you didn’t think about any of that. “I-I’m sorry for getting so upset.” He quickly apologizes and you shake your head. 

“You’re right Kenma, and I’m sorry that I didn’t come to you but I was scared.” You whisper and tears begin to form, Kenma looks at the ground with hurt all over his face. 

“Why?” He asks just as quietly and you shrug. 

“I didn’t want to lose you.”


“You wouldn’t have, you’d never lose me no matter what you do.” Kenma confesses and you grab onto his hand for support, Kenma squeezes you and turns to look at you. His face softens are your watery eyes. “Stop crying.”

The next time you, Kenma, and Kuroo are hanging out it’s because you’re celebrating not being pregnant. There is cake and ice cream and you own up to apologizing to Kuroo for getting so angry with him when he was only trying to do the right thing. Kuroo, of course, forgives you and wasn’t even mad at you in the first place. He suggests a group hug that you happily take but Kenma stands off to the side, slapping both of you upside the head for keeping such a secret from him before taking his place in your arms.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

How does Sakusa even nut? Like I can’t imagine that he likes the gross feeling of cum all over his dick so like how would he use a condom and/or nut inside of you? I was just thinking about it…….. 

Anyway, whenever you try to hide something from Sakusa he always has a way to pry it out of you 

Like he will knock your door down with his mind to get you to face him

When he finds out you think you’re pregnant, he would just be like ‘well, that’s a lot to take in’

He’d go silent and use his very beautiful head to digest your words,

Now Sakusa is usually calm, but right now he isn’t. This man is freaking the fuck out internally as much as Sakusa can freak out 

Externally he is just like ‘oh’, come on you guys really think Sakusa knows anything about pregnancy 

He’d probably suggests taking you to the doctor or going to get you pregnancy tests

I feel like he would be very good at reassuring you that everything is going to be okay even if he isn’t so sure of that himself 

Please, his main concern is how much he would dislike going to the hospital. He is 99.9% sure that you aren’t pregnant and so he probably isn’t too worried about it, he’s more concerned with how upset you are,,

Sakusa scrunches his nose as he walks into your classroom, it’s late in the afternoon after practice and he found you sitting at your desk. You haven’t even shown that you noticed him walking in, you’re still hunched over your desk with your face buried into your arms. Sakusa quietly walks up to you, his footsteps are the only noises in the large room. 


“(Y/N).” He calls out to you, standing right at the edge of your desk. You don’t make any move. Sakusa sighs and pokes your shoulder with his finger. “(Y/N).” He tries again and gets no response, with a heavy sigh Sakusa pinches the collar of your blazer and lifts your face out of your arms. You don’t even try to hide as you emotionlessly stare at the floor, your boyfriend’s eyes widen at your swollen eyes and blotchy face. 


“What’s wrong?” Sakusa asks, he gently rubs smooth circles on your back. You simply shake your head. “Tell me, don’t be difficult.” He pushes and your eyes begin to water again. 

“Just go home Kiyoomi.” You attempt to push him away and Sakusa just feels his irritation growing.

“You poor thing, thinking that is going to work with me.” He continues to stare down at you and even goes as far as pinching your cheek with his fingers. Sakusa’s eyes narrow at your tears spilling on his fingers and has to refrain from grabbing a tissue and wiping it off. Instead, he uses his thumb to wipe the tears off your cheeks, internally grimacing at the feeling. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, (Y/N).” He warns and you puff your cheeks.

“Where to start,” You bite at him angrily, your nose scrunches in frustration. “I haven’t gotten my period in like two weeks, I failed a test today, my grades are dropping, you’re being an ass, I might be pregnant, my mother yells at me for breathing wrong, what do you want me to say Kiyoomi?” 

Sakusa takes a moment to digest all your words, his face curls in disgust at the mention of your menstrual blood. 

“Wait, pregnant?” He starts cautiously and you nod bitterly. Sakusa takes you by surprise by leaning down and wrapping his arms around your shoulders to bring you into his chest. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you recently and that I have been making things difficult for you.”

Sakusa frowns he notices that even more tears are now streaming down your face. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He tries to reassure you but you only shake your head. “Yes, you are. We will figure this out.” Sakusa grabs your cheek to force you to look at him, it’s a promise. 

On your way out to walk home, Sakusa stops by the bathroom to wash his hands and in turn, you also go to the bathroom. You thought you felt that familiar feeling between your thighs but pushed it off as something else. However when you got to the bathroom and saw the disgusting mess in your panties that you had grown accustomed to over the years you can’t help but scream. 

“(Y/N) w-what’s wrong?!” Sakusa barges into the bathroom and you tap your feet against the tile floor. 

“I got it!!!” You exclaim and Sakusa continues to run his head worryingly. 

“Got what?”


“My period!!!” You’re met with silence and footsteps of your boyfriend retreating out of the bathroom. You still have a lot more to figure out about Sakusa Kiyoomi but you know for a fact that he is going to jump you the second you leave the bathroom.

Tsukishima Kei

Tsukishima…… this brat,,,, as oyakags likes to say ‘Tsucki’ love that genius

He would be relatively calm about the entire situation 


I genuinely think he would handle it well and that is because he can’t believe it

He seriously does not believe there is any way you are pregnant like he doesn’t hit it raw every other day

Tsukki would get you pregnancy tests and hide them in his bathroom, force you to take them while he stands there watching you pee on the stick like 0.0

Please, this bitch is not playing

He’d be so worried about how freaked out you are and would probably make fun of you to try and make you feel better

He would use his humor to calm you down, sneak in insults here and there because it would take your mind off of the whole situation 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t ugly this wouldn’t have happened” “UGLY?! TSUKISHIMA KEI YOU DIDN’T THINK I WAS UGLY WHEN YOU WERE HITTING IT FROM THE BACK RAW LAST NIGHT!”

When the tests come back negative, Tsukishima will have to hold back from tackling you. He’d scold you for being so careless and for worrying him so much, throwing pathetic insults around but it's only because he is so relieved and doesn’t know how to react. Just shut him up and bring him into a hug, little baby needs his love HAHAH

“I think we should break up.”


“Huh?” Tsukishima looks up from his textbook, his eyebrows furrowed as he glares at where you sit on his bed. You don’t look at him and instead focus on his dinosaur figurines along the walls. 

“It would be better if we broke up, we are both always so busy anyway, not to mention we are going to different colleges in a few months.” You shrug and try to ignore the way your eyes prick with tears, Tsukishima places his textbook down and turns his chair around to face you. His face is hard, had this been two years ago Tsukishima would have let you go without a second glance. Now though? After all you’ve been through, now you want to break up? Yeah, no.

“We’re going to college in the same city, busu, and last I checked you never wanted to break up.” Tsukishima mocks your voice as he repeats the words you say to him late at night whenever you think he is asleep. “Is this some sort of April fool’s prank?” He asks and turns back to his desk. 

“No, I-I don’t want to be with you anymore!” You tell him, voice raising slightly, and Tsukishima has to pretend like his heart didn’t just crack a little bit.

“Right,” He shoos your words away with a flick of his wrist. “I’m not letting you break up with me.” His words should make you feel happy, and deep down they do but not now, instead, they only make you cry. You cover your face with your hands and let out the sob that had been creeping up in your throat. At your cries Tsukishima stiffens and pushes his schoolwork away, almost immediately he walks over to his bed and stands over your curled up form. “You really hate me this much?” He tries to laugh but his words come out bitterly. You shake your head profusely at him.

“You’re going to hate me.” You cry and your shoulders shake with each sob and Tsukishima tilts his head at you. 

“(Y/N), you know I already hate you.” Tsukishima jokes, he is really trying his best to comfort you, he’s rubbing your shoulder and letting you know he is there for you by standing close to you. Fuck, he doesn’t know what he is doing. 

“I-I think I’m pregnant.” You yell out and Tsukishima stiffens, quickly taking his hand off of you like you burned him. 

“Huh?” He pauses and blinks before leaving the room. You start to think he ran away and that thought only makes you cry harder. Tsukishima comes back not even a minute later and throws a box at you. 

“Don’t make assumptions, idiot.” He scolds and you pick up the box and squint at it with watery eyes.

“What is this?” You ask him and Tsukishima scoffs before walking over to you, he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his chest to walk you towards the bathroom. 

“It’s a box of pregnancy tests, Akiteru’s girlfriend left them last month.” Tsukishima gags at the thought of his older brother and longtime girlfriend, he did not need that image in his head. You continue to sniffle as tears stream down your face and Tsukishima sits you down on the ledge of his bathtub. “You’re okay, why are you crying? I’m right here. You’re fine (Y/N).” 

Tsukishima was right, you really were fine. All the tests came back negative and you got your period a week later. However, Tsukishima never let you live it down and has been scolding you ever since for being so careless. He’s just mad you made him worry so much~

~

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly

[anika-ann]

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you.  You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? ��, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

[sokkabeifong]

Can you write some tokka angst 🙏

ofc I can anon and IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE but better late than never I guess. this is set in modern times because modern times are fun to write for tokka okay? a bit longer than usual but the more angst the better am I right

Toph had promised Sokka that she’d go to the hospital when it happened, so that’s exactly what she’d done. She hadn’t promised that she’d actually get anyone’s attention. Or check in. Or ask for help.

Although… the contractions were getting more insistent, and she doubted the medical staff would leave her alone if she stripped off the stupid maternity pants and just squatted down right there on the lobby floor.

With a heavy sigh, she waddled her way over to the nearest front desk. Spirits, she hadn’t been in a hospital in years. She wasn’t even sure what the different branches and buildings and desks were all for. But there was no way that she was giving birth at home. Katara was in medical school, sure, but she wasn’t done. And Toph wasn’t about to risk her life and her child’s life for a “practice trial.”

Still, there was something unnerving about the hospital, with its stuffy feeling and too-squeaky floor. It feels clean, clean in a way that you can just sense. She didn’t need sight to tell her just how antibacterial this place was.

A pinging, traitorous part of her wishes that someone was here with her, that she didn’t have to do this alone. But it was her own stupid pride that had taken a cab all alone in a Wednesday night, and the only person she truly wanted present was somewhere she could never get him back from. She’d promised him before he died that she would go to the hospital if she felt even the slightest change. He wanted her to be safe, he said.

And now, of course, Sokka was dead and gone while she was here, swollen belly stretching out her sweater and maternity pants. As much of an annoyance as labor would be, getting the thing out of her was going to be a blessing. She’d spent too long unbalanced and vulnerable to attack.

“Can I help you?”

Toph was broken out of her musings by the question from someone sitting at the closest desk. She turned her head to where she hoped the person, a woman by the sound of it, would be.

“I hope so,” she smiled, falling back into a generic cover ID face. “I should probably see a doctor.”

“All right,” said the woman. She heard the clicking of nails on a keyboard, then something sliding across the desk. “Why don’t you take one of these forms, fill it out, and bring it back here?”

“Can’t ,” she said shortly. “I’m blind.”

“No worries.” The woman clicked her pen open like she had blind pregnant ladies come into the ER every day. Who knew - maybe she did. “I’ll ask you the questions and you answer, okay?”

“Okay.” Toph winced as another contraction hit her. At least the protruding baby bump gave her something to lean against. She made sure to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth as the woman began questioning her, just as Katara had instructed her to do. I’m a few hours, the whole thing would be over and then - she bit her lip and redirected her thoughts.

She wished Sokka was -

She redirected that thought, too.

“Reason for your visit?” the woman asked, yapping the pen against the clipboard.

Toph waited a moment before she turned around yet again, because she was in the middle of another contraction and couldn’t decide whether she’d rather scream or just go ahead and kill the lady.

“My contractions are about eight minutes apart,” she said.

The lady blinked once and then repeated, “They’re eight minutes apart from each other? So you’re in labor. Are you in active labor?”

Toph smiled sweetly. “Are you asking me to stick my fingers down and see whether or not I’m dilated to seven centimeters?”

To the woman's credit, the crudity didn't seem to faze her, and she plowed ahead with, “Ma’am, this is the ER. We’re not equipped for a birth. I’ll call you a wheelchair immediately, and we’ll get you up to Labor and Delivery. Trust me, it’ll be faster than checking in here and waiting for a transfer.”

“Where’s Labor and Delivery?”

“Fourth floor, and I -”

“I’ll just walk over there. It’s fine.”

“Ma’am, I really must insist. You’ve technically checked in—” she waved the yellow paper “—and you’re our responsibility now.”

Toph leaned heavily against the counter and deftly snatched the page out of the woman’s hand. At least her coordination was still functional.

“There. Now I didn’t check in, and I’m my own problem.”

“Ma’am, please. You’re in no condition to go wandering the hospital, whether you take that against your pregnancy or your eyesight. Let me just call someone to wheel you over.”

Luckily for the woman, another contraction rendered her unable to give a snappy retort. She waited for it to pass, quietly, quickly, then faced the lady once more.

“Fine,” she said tightly. “Fine. Fine.”

“Thank you,” the lady said, obviously relieved. Apparently she did not deal with stubborn blind pregnant women on the daily.

By the time she had been put in a wheelchair and taken through the long halls and winding corridors to Labor and Delivery, Toph had managed to calm herself down. Not because the situation was in any way calming, but because she’d stressed her body and mind out enough that she’d fallen into full-blown mission mode.

Which was fine. It’d probably be easier to give birth with that attitude.

“Well, you seem pretty together, Toph,” the nurse gushed as she checked in yet again at the front desk. “We’ll get you back as soon as possible. For now, if you can just take a seat in one of those chairs, and listen for your name.”

Toph let her real self fade into the background, giving over control to the five other women sitting in the waiting room, and promptly closed her eyes. If she was going to be in pain, she might as well rest while she could.

-

The calm blind girl out in the lobby was already a topic of discussion.

It wasn’t completely unheard of for someone to come in alone. Life was weird and sometimes people gave birth without anyone they knew to help them through the experience. But this girl? The calm young girl with ebony in her hair and in her eyes wasn’t any of the typical stories. She was clean and put together. She was calm and young and looked like the kind of person who would have a dozen friends by her side, even if the father of the child was no longer in the picture.

And yet, there she sat. First in the waiting room and then in her hospital room.

Alone.

Moreover, Miss Toph Beifong had claimed on her paperwork that her contractions were now five minutes apart. However, she was sitting too calmly for that. In fact, the nurse had sat with phone in hand and timed out more than ten minutes, and the girl hadn’t moved once. She’d sat there calmly. No wincing, no cursing, no crying.

It wasn’t until the nurse pulled the woman back and got down to take a look that anyone believe the claim at all.

"Shit,” the nurse murmured.

The doctor startled and glanced up to see if Toph had been offended by the curse. Fortunately, the girl seemed more concerned with how many fingers she had, and didn’t seem to have heard.

“What?” the doctormurmured, more quietly.

“Her cervix is nine centimeters,” the nurse answered.

“Shit,” the doctor echoed.

-

By the end of it all, Toph had decided she did not like labor. She’d made that decision before she began crowning, and nothing that followed did anything to change that. While she had experienced worse pain in her life, she had never experienced that kind of pain.

She had once spent four straight hours being absolutely crushed by a girl at the gym and, at the peak of labor, she was pretty sure she’d trade out that experience for her current one.

Nevertheless, she didn’t scream. She screwed up her eyes and doubled her body up and flexed her fingers. Tears leaked from her eyes from the sheer stress of it all. But her lips remained tightly closed. The skin around them grew white from where she bit them between her teeth, and the nurses were afraid she’d draw blood.

One well-intentioned nurse had advised that she just give in and cry out.

Toph had rolled her eyes, widened her legs, and pushed again.

In the end, nature was inevitable. Toph had always had someone to remind her to take good care of her body, so the whole experience was over in a few hours. She collapsed back against the wet bedding. There was sweat and blood and who-knew-what all over her, and she’d probably never feel clean again.

There was screaming in the background, and her eyes finally focused on the small infant being washed by the hospital staff.

Then her view was cut off by the ring of congratulating nurses.

“It’s a beautiful girl. Do you have the name ready for her?”

“Call it Toph, for all I fucking care,” Toph murmured, too quietly for anyone to make out. She turned over on her side, away from the child, and shut her eyes tight.

-

Later that night, after hours of tossing and turning in her sleep, Toph was awoken by the small mewing sound coming from her bedside. She sighed. She’d tried to have the baby whisked away to some far-off nursery where she wouldn’t have to ignore its presence, but apparently the hospital didn’t “do that anymore.”

Spirits, she felt so empty. Tired and empty and drained.

Deciding she could avoid it no further, Toph feels her way to the other side of the bed. The hospital is quiet, and she can’t even guess what time it is. Probably late at night. She waddled over to the bassinet, and the mewing became a full-fledged scream.

She jumped. The baby continued screaming, but less so, as if it hadn’t realized anyone was there. She found herself reaching down, feeling the child, the blankets, so afraid she would drop it or break it or… worse. For a moment she hesitated.

This is your baby, she thinks. You’re allowed to pick it up. It’s yours. And his. You can pick it up.

Her. She could almost hear Sokka’s voice echo through the room, reminding her that their child wasn’t an it. The thought made her smile.

Slowly, carefully, as though her life depended on it, Toph lowered her arms around the tiny, tiny baby and lifted her up. The baby stopped bawling and snuggled against her mother’s chest.

“Hello,” she said stupidly, like the kid could respond. But her mouth kept moving. “Um. Uh, my name’s Toph. I’m your - Spirits, I guess I’m your mom now, huh?”

The baby gurgled, her lips curled like she might cry again. Toph hurried to keep talking.

“Oh, God, um. What else, what else… uh, you have a bunch of aunts and uncles,” she said. “They’re all gonna help raise you. They’re annoying sometimes, but they mean well. You’re our first baby, you know.”

Our. The word made Toph close her eyes for a second. Try as she might, there would be no more “our.” There was only “she.” The “our” in her partnership was long gone. How was she supposed to tell her child that?

She decided to start with the basics.

“Your daddy was so brave,” she whispered. It hurt to talk about Sokka in the past tense, but she kept going. “He was so, so strong and brave and I just know he would have loved to meet you. He already loved you, you know. He wanted to meet you so bad, kid. He just never got the chance.”

The baby blinked, her eyelids heavy like hearing about the father she would never meet was too much for one night. Toph wholeheartedly agreed and set her down in the bassinet once more, making sure she was secure before plodding back to her own bed and face-planting on the blankets.

The nurse had told her the baby’s eyes were blue. She let that thought sink into her heart before drifting off to sleep.

[luxekook]

chapter two.

⇥ pairing: namjoon x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic namjoon, power tools, hints of poly relationships, overall pretty smut free (who AM i???)

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Two

Habitat for Humanity Worksite – 9:26am

When I signed up to volunteer Saturday morning of syllabus week, I should have known I would end up regretting it. I almost punted my alarm clock out of the apartment window this morning, but instead settled a slightly more civil action – punching the shit out of the ‘off’ button.

Don’t get me wrong: I love volunteering. It’s been part of my routine since sophomore year when I was recruited for the all-women’s service society on campus – the Alphites. As a society, us Alphites volunteer around campus and in our local community each week. There’s something about doing service together that really creates bonds, and the girls in the society have quickly become some of my closest friends.

We sign up to volunteer for a variety of different service projects each week, and Habitat is my current favorite project to sign up for. As a nonprofit organization, Habitat for Humanity helps families build and improve places to call home. Currently, our regional Habitat is working on building a house from the ground up for a local family in need.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a very ‘handy’ person. Luckily for me, there are always a couple volunteers with construction or engineering backgrounds who are willing to teach other volunteers with less experience – or none, like me.

Since beginning to volunteer at the site last year, I have learned how to use a power saw, how to fasten siding, and how to mix, pour and level cement. It’s definitely empowering to learn new skills and also to see how my handiwork contributes to someone’s future home. I also feel lowkey badass when I get to use the power drill for anything.

Pulling up to the worksite, I clutch my cherished 24oz. Wawa coffee. I finally feel somewhat human as I park my beat-up Jeep Wrangler and hop out to meet the other volunteers for our task assignments.

The site leader Eddie – a burly retiree with a background in construction management – greets me with a huge grin, “(y/n)-doll, we missed you this summer! I can’t believe you abandoned us during the hottest months of the year.”

I roll my eyes, smiling at his teasing. Eddie’s like a teddy bear disguised as a grizzly – all rough edges and a heart of gold. “Missed you, too, Eddie.”

“Look at our progress now,” he continues, “Pretty impressive, yeah?” Nodding, I greet some regular volunteers I recognize as Eddie leads me around the house. He proceeds to show me what they had done over the summer in my absence – and they had done a lot. The house now had its full foundation and wooden framing with most of the doors and windows installed.

As we walk back to the front of the house to the main area, I sip my coffee and turn to Eddie, “So, what can I work on today, fearless leader?”

Letting out a patented ‘Eddie belly-laugh’, he replies, “I know you worked on the siding at our last site so I'm gonna have you work on where we started the siding on the right side of the house.”

Sweet, I could work with that. “Aye, aye, captain,” I respond with a lazy salute of my coffee cup. Before I can turn to start towards the scaffolding to begin, Eddie stops me.

“Oh, one more thing. I’m gonna need you to orient our new volunteer and let him shadow you today. Kid’s from the same school as you, I think… Mandatory service. Anyway, he should be here any minute.”

Shit, I know what ‘mandatory service’ means. It’s the first form of disciplinary action that the college issues and is usually the only form of disciplinary action for our athletes or for Greek life – a fact I actively resent. During my time in the Alphites, I have had to deal with some of these ‘mandatory service’ characters and they’ve never been much fun to be around.

“Ah, that’s probably him now,” Eddie startles me out of my thoughts of dread and doom as a black gleaming Tesla practically purrs down the block, swinging into the spot next to my Wrangler. Scowling, I cross my arms as I survey the stark contrast between this person’s shiny-ass luxury car and my dirty-ass well-loved Jeep.

The Tesla door opens. A Timberland booted foot emerges followed by a thick leg encased in light jeans, a tanned well-muscled arm…

No. Nope, it couldn’t be— Please, not today, Satan.

He stands with his back to us now, stretching out his large body. In only a cutoff t-shirt, his rippling back muscles might be enough to send me into an early grave.

I sigh in bitter defeat of the inevitable. Seriously, the fucking universe must have it out for me because I can’t seem to shake this stupid fucking fraternity.

As if the boy feels my eyes on him, he turns. His eyes immediately clash with mine as he slams his car door, clicking the lock over his shoulder. Those eyes – golden brown beneath dark brows and a wave of bleached blonde hair. Their focus is absolute – hard – as he strolls towards us. It’s almost as if he knows the maddening effect that he has on me.

I think Eddie is speaking, but my senses are on lockdown, his words muted. My thighs tighten as my pulse picks up. Get a fucking grip, (y/n). I can’t let him know that just one look from him has me thirsty and oxygen-deprived. I can’t look away – that would be succumbing to weakness.

Instead, I hold his heated gaze as best I can as his confident gait brings him closer. God, he’s got to be at least 6 foot...

The goddamn president of BTS Kim Namjoon is getting closer and I can’t help running my eyes over him.

His thighs flex and shift beneath his jeans with every calculated step. His abs are apparent under his tight cutoff shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters.

Namjoon stops in front of us, hands stuffed into his back pockets, biceps flexing. “Nice to finally meet you, Eddie,” Namjoon takes his eyes off me long enough to greet Eddie and shake his hand, but then they’re right back on me, “Hi, (y/n).”

He drags out my name in a such a sinful way that even old Eddie does a slight doubletake. Clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, Eddie booms, “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Our differing replies sound at the same time.

“Yes,” Namjoon repeats, lips turning up in an infuriating smile, “We have several mutual friends that she’s met a couple times now. Want me to jog your memory? I’d be more than happy to do so.”

Eddie takes one look at my face and hustles off, mumbling something about support beams. I guess my inner thoughts of ‘kill, maim, slaughter’ could easily be read from my facial expression.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m faster, “Listen, Kim, I don’t know who you think you are, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is this house and these people working on it. Don’t fuck this up for me, okay? Let’s just get through today and then you can go back to ordering around your brothers and causing general mayhem.”

I’m feeling pretty proud of my little soliloquy until I realize he’s still smiling with those blasted dimples out in full display. No, his smile has grown even wider now as he simply answers, “The semester.”

My nose crinkles in confusion, “What?”

“The semester,” he repeats, “I’m assigned here every Saturday for the rest of the semester.”

I stare at him.

He smirks back.

I stare.

His smirk begins to fade, “Uh, did you hear me?”

I stare.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now, (y/n),” Namjoon waves his giant paw of a hand in front of my face, “How many fingers?”

I break out of my trance of denial and hiss, “What did you do? Double homicide? Serial arson? Oh my god, you were the one who blew up the science lab!”

His hand covers my mouth – it’s rough and warm and entirely disarming.

“You have quite the imagination, jagi. I’ll keep that in mind,” Namjoon chuckles, “To answer your question, I did none of the above. Now, answer a couple questions of mine: what did you do to get here and – more importantly – why did you distract Jungkook from doing his fucking job on Monday?”

I glare in response, waiting for him to remove his hand from my mouth. He takes too long, and I lick his palm. It works. He removes his hand, but from the look on his face it seems like he liked my tongue on his skin entirely too much.

Thankfully, Eddie chooses the perfect moment to yell across the site, “What are you doing just standing there, (y/n)-doll? I don’t pay you to just loiter around all day!”

“You don’t pay me at all!” I yell back, already moving towards the trailer with all the supplies to get started. Namjoon follows.

“(y/n)-doll?” his eyebrows are raised as I hand him a pair of the biggest gloves I could find, “What’s up with that?”

Taking a pair of smaller gloves for myself, I turn to look for some hammers and nails as I respond, “I’ve been here a while. He’s like my honorary grandfather at this point.”

I spot the hammers and nails tucked away on the highest corner shelf and I huff. Namjoon follows my gaze, “Need a strong, intelligent, tall young man to grab those for you?”

He’s impossible, but for some reason it draws a small smile to my face, “Yes, that’d be great.”

The smile I receive in response is so bright I wonder if it could make flowers grow, “Okay, but only if answer my questions, (y/n).”

I shrug, trying not to notice how his cutoff shirt rises as he stretches to reach the upper shelf. I catch a sudden glimpse of his abs, and I praise every god out there that hot weather can be blamed for my sudden onset of sweat. 

Clearing my throat, I laugh lightly, “Fine, first of all, I didn’t ‘distract’ Jeon. I just had a temporary lapse in judgement. Besides, he came to me all on his own.” His back muscles tense up at my words, but I continue, “And second of all, there’s no juicy story of how I got here. I just volunteer here every Saturday for the Alphites.”

The sound of a hammer hitting the floor startles me as he whirls around, “You’re an Alphite?”

Namjoon’s tone is one of disbelief and it’s a tone I do not appreciate, “Yes, why is that so hard to believe?” My arms cross defensively, “I’ve been a sister since my sophomore year...”

I trail off. He’s still gawking at me ridiculously. Narrowing my eyes, I stride across the trailer and grab his chin, closing his mouth for him, “Watch out, Kim, you’re gonna catch flies.”

Spinning on my heels, I sashay out of the trailer, nose held high in the air and satisfaction held even higher. He’ll catch up. After all, he’s basically supposed to be my bitch today.

I climb up the scaffolding next to the house’s right side and assess the siding work that has already been started. It looks pretty solid and level. I should have no issue with continuing without having to make any initial corrections.

The sound of a bucket of nails hitting the top platform I’m sitting on alerts me of Namjoon’s impending presence. Saving the bucket from teetering over the edge – a safety hazard for sure – I watch amusedly as Namjoon struggles stay upright and climb up to where I am on the scaffolding. Finally, he plops down next to me – entirely too close. I can feel his stare on my skin as I steadfastly ignore him.

“Hey, jagi,” he pokes my arm, “(y/n), listen, you just caught me off guard. I mean, you don’t seem like the type to be an Alphite – that’s all.”

Fury curls up inside me for the umpteenth time that morning, as I turn to face Namjoon with a sickly-sweet smile that has him flinching back, “Then do tell, Namjoon, what type I seem to be?”

I pick up the hammer closest to me and dip a hand into the nail bucket. The sooner this siding got done, the sooner I could haul ass out of here.

“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his chin, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, okay? I guess I just have always thought that your society was a bunch of mom-types—”

I cut him off with a swing of my hammer in the air, “What’s wrong with mom-types, you uncultured swine? And is serving your community really such a ‘mom’ thing to do? I’m sorry. I must have missed that memo. Here I was thinking that it was public service but go off I guess.”

He blinks, “Did you just call me an ‘uncultured swine’?”

I sniff in indignation, “Get with the times, Kim. I just roasted your ass. Now hand me that piece of siding and make yourself useful.”

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon mutters, sliding my request over to me.

“So what?” I shrug, “All the best people are weird. Now, do me a solid and explain to me why you and your ‘brothers’ keep suspiciously popping up everywhere I go.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he grins, “We’re interested.”

“What does that even mean? That you’re interested?” I wrack my brain, “As in all seven of you fuckers?”

“It means, jagi,” Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, “It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

a/n: i love namjoon. that is all. 

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @bewitch3dforivar @honeyspillings @xxonyxpearlxx​  @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang 

[florencwrites]

all is fair in love〚dreamwastaken〛

in which clay cannot help but desperately promise himself that she will remember him

part 2

"She doesn't know my name, George." A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, almost closer to a huff than a sigh, honestly. His left hand ran over his face, a slight tremble detectable in his movements. His other hand held his phone close to his cheek, both the other sides of the line staying silent.

Hesitation on his breath, George spoke up again, leaving a few seconds for his response, just offering some time for his friend to calm down. "She will, Dream."

"You don't know that." The blonde immediately retorted, rolling his eyes at his friend's pathetic attempt of making him feel better. "Doctor said it could take years."

"Dude, you've been in love with this girl for years, when she didn't even know you existed at all," Sapnap interjected, somehow trying to relieve the tension by cracking a light joke. "I'm sure it'll work out again."

"Took her years to like me back." Clay chuckled, "I was obsessed." His mind was clouded by pictures of her, of them together. When they were just little kids, littering the streets for hours trying to find an agenda. Their teen years, how he hadn't been able to muster up the courage to ask her to prom, for years in a row. Her cheeky smile, expressive eyebrows, and those eyes he loved that much, those eyes that had been shut closed for days now. Fuck, he ran another hand over his face, up through his locks, he would never let her out of his sight again. Not when shit like this happened when he wasn't around. He'd never forgive himself for it, never let himself live it down. His eyebrows folded in agony, once again entirely overtaken by the idea of her not getting better, never becoming her old self anymore.

"Oh, we know, Dream." A slight chuckle breathed through his words, "She's so cute, Nick, AH! She let me hold her hand!" He mimicked his friend with a higher tone of voice, the brit quickly joining in, "GEORGE! She added me back! I'm so pathetically in love with her, George."

"I hate you guys." His voice sounded meek, soft, vulnerable. He loved them with all his heart, always knowing how to lift his mood, how to comfort him when he needed them to. "Thank you, for -uh- everything."

"Yeah dude, of course." Nick's smile was shining through his voice, audible even through the wacky discord call. George kept silent, but it was clear; they'd always be there to help him get through whatever it was, for however long it was needed.

It took three months, two weeks and several days for him to get her to smile again, a few more days after that for a laugh, God knows he could use it. The glint that once occupied her gaze had now retaken its deserved place in her eyes again after all, her eyebrows finally dancing with her expressions once again. A few days ago, she'd even let him hold her hand while they watched TLC on the tiny little television in her hospital room. He'd bugged her about buying her a bigger one every time he came by, which was practically every day, now that he thought about it.

His friends understood that he couldn't join their streams as often as before, they still offered him a spot in their Jackbox lobby every time, and Wilbur took it to himself to make sure he was never left out of the script, even if he bailed on them more often than not. It killed George especially, to see his friend like this, barely eating, sleeping all the time he wasn't spending sitting by her bed. He realized he'd never worried more about anyone than he did about Clay those hazy months. His own channels were suffering greatly, too, but that wasn't even close to being on his mind.

"Hi there." Clay waved slightly, wiggling his fingers nervously as he opened the door to her room. His eyes glanced to hers, a faint smile on her features as she muttered out a greeting. His gaze flickered through the room. He remembered first coming here those weeks ago, the deadly white walls that caged him into his own mind, the panic that wouldn't leave his veins, no matter what he did. He'd sat there for hours, the nurses having to send him home every single day. The lack of personal items making him greatly uncomfortable. Gradually he would take more and more decorations into her room, starting with some flowers, bringing in several stacks of plushies a little later. George, Nick, and Darryl had decided to get together and get her a Switch, naturally, Darryl had convinced them to get the new Animal Crossing for her. Clay decided to throw in some Mario Kart, more for himself than his comatose girlfriend. Then, the news broke on Twitter, and the drawings flooded his PO box, the one he now apparently shared with her. Pictures upon pictures hung on her walls, he even went as far as getting her Christmas lights above her bed, some photos of their childhood, too. At this moment, her eyes had yet to see the light of day since her accident, he did it all in complete silence, perhaps a small part of him didn't just do it for her, but to calm his own nerves a little, too.

But now, she was back. She played his dumb games with him, joked about his awful stubble, and thus, let him hold her hand, too. God, how he had missed the warmth of her fingers with his, anytime she'd let him touch her, shivers ran through his body; goosebumps covering the entirety of his skin. She'd loved the games they had collected for her over the course of these months, playing them daily. And even though she had no idea who these incredibly attentive people were, she knew she cared about them greatly. She'd asked Clay about them several times, even going as far as recording a short voice memo, thanking them for everything they'd done for her and Clay together.

"How've you been?" His mellow voice made her senses tingle, familiarity had settled for a few days now, anytime he spoke she'd get flashes of warmth, radiating through her abdomen. He didn't know this, of course, because what if it was nothing? What if she just set him up for heartbreak once again?

But he, he didn't care. His heart ached for her when they were together, but even more so when they were not. He couldn't help but feel pity for himself some of these days, realizing how pathetic it must look for everyone around him, how often he had sat beside her bed without a single affirmation of recognition, of progress. How often he had interrupted his friends' calls, absolutely heaving with sobs, weeping for it to end, for it all to end. How often he had sat down on the freezing tiles of his shower, trying to drown out his thoughts, especially after the days he wasn't able to drag himself out of bed. The days he had wanted anything but to stay confined to his fucking sheets, the days all he wanted was for her to softly whisper his name, exactly in the way she used to do. The way she'd done when he was playing with her, fucking around, she'd whisper his name in the most loving way he had ever heard a woman do. Her voice was a song he couldn't get out of his head, no matter what melody was playing in the background; she was all that was ever on his mind. All he wanted was for it to fucking end.

That changed, of course, the day she'd finally awoken from her outrageous slumber, the day her pupils met his. Nothing but confusion and utter fear laced in them, he was so thankful for any form of life, he hadn't even noticed what her eyes were really telling him. Her melodic voice filled his ears, bound to echo through his head for the rest of the day, the least. "I've been better."

"That's good, that's good." His toothy smile subconsciously earned her one, too. "You, uh, you watched that show I mentioned?"

"I did!" Her fucking smile made all of it worth it, all his pain and suffering, all he had endured. It had always been just about her and her fucking smile, all along. Since they were children, he reckoned, he hadn't cared about anything as much as he cared about being the one to tug up the corners of her lips.

A hearty chuckle left his lips, his hand slowly hovering over the side of the bed as he finally wrapped her hand in his again, this time her being the one to interlock their fingers. He smiled. "You said," He dropped his head as a giggle escaped him, "You always used to say how you'd give your life to be able to watch it again, like -uh- like it was the first time."

A low hum vibrated through her chest as she tried to hold in her snickers. "You're telling me I almost went braindead for fucking Teen Wolf?" She burst out in hiccuped laughs, trashing her legs around imperceptibly under the scratchy hospital covers. "I need to get my priorities right this time around."

His stomach tightened at her words, she'd always told him about how much she hated that stupid show, but for some reason he always caught her coming back to it any time she felt even the slightest nudge of sadness. Braindead. She was minutes away from being braindead, unsalvageable. His eyebrows furrowed, and he was sure to be subconsciously squeezing her hand a little too much. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to break the unspoken barrier he had set for himself; don't let her see you cry. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm still here."

She tugged at his hand, offering him her other one as well. He took it, obviously unable to refuse any contact she offered him. He hung over her body a little as he held both of her hands, she pulled his far most one delicately, silently asking for him to stand. And as soon as he did, she pulled him down in a hug, completely engulfing the entirety of his body in hers, only their clothes and the uncomfortable sheets separating them. She wrapped her arms as tightly around him as she could as his soft sobs slowly started filling up the room. The silence was overwhelming, only his whimpers there to break through. Her eyes welled up, too, she'd lie if she said they didn't. He was holding her, wrapping his arms underneath her back, not planning on letting go anytime soon. "I'm still here, Clay."

"Are you?" He muttered against the hoodie she was wearing, his hoodie he had given to her when she'd first woken up and complained about feeling like a lab rat in her stupid gown. He had stupidly told her he would marry her even in her blue-ish hospital gown, which was the most adoring, beautiful thing a man had ever told her, especially would she have recognized him at that time. Alas, he was just a man in her room, nothing more nothing less. "Are you really?"

"I-" She stumbled on her line, completely sure of what it was he was fronting at. "I will be." She decided, "I will be soon."

"I'll wait for however long it takes." His shuddered breath made the hairs in her neck stand up straight against her skin. She closed her eyes, her face still plastered in the crook of his neck, his cologne taking over her senses, his warmth being able to make her feel safer than she had ever felt before. Her voice hadn't ever sounded as painfully vulnerable as it did that second, "It wouldn't be fair -you, for me.." A heavy breath. "It wouldn't be fair for me to expect that from you."

He hushed her gently, another sniffle leaving his nose immediately after. "All is fair in love."

[bbykpoper]

𝓑𝓵𝓾𝓮𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 🦋

Inspired by this post 🌼

Pairing: swimcoach!seonghwa x artist!reader

Warning: sexual content further in the story, read at your own discretion!

Index: Jongho // Hongjoong // San // Yunho // Wooyoung // Mingi // Yeosang

･*:༅

The canvas was covered in smudges of blue paint as you stared at it from your spot on the floor. You were disgusted by your work, by the mere atempt at the whole thing. Your whole being screamed ‘lack-of-inspiration’ and you were fed up with this shit you were trying to achieve. A groan left your lips as your phone started to ring somewhere in the background.

“Hello?” You sounded much more composed than you actually were, seeing as anger was slowly taking over you. 

“Hey, bad time?” The soft voice of your friend came through the phone.

“I don’t know...” You sighed, placing your paint brush on the ground. “I’m not exactly going anywhere with my work.” You looked up your canvas but disregarded it the moment you saw the frustration reflected on it. “Anyways, what’s up?”

“I need a favour.” You could hear the stress in his voice. “I forgot my swim bag at home...”

“How could you forget your swim bag?” You stood up and went over to the room next to yours and that’s when you noticed it. “You haven’t slept at home have you?”

“Maybe.” A silence passed over the speaker. “Can you bring it over please? I’m pretty sure Park will have my head either way, but I’d at least like to be prepared.”

“Sure Chan, but don’t come crying when JIhyo comes after you.” You giggled, grabbing the bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Dang, this is heavy.”

“Sorry again.” He spoke now guilt lacing his words.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re friends. And I do need a break from just blindly throwing paint on my canvases.” You giggled along with him. “I’ll be over in an hour or so. I hope Park doesn’t kill you by then.”

“So do I.”

Your steps were quick down the stairs of your loft appartment which led to the small florist shop underneath it. You passed by Yeosang who greeted you with a smile and grabbed the pair of keys from the back room. Jihyo was currently serving a customer as you hurriedly ran past them.

“I’m borrowing your car for a short while.” 

“Did Chan forget something again?” She asked while she prepared the bouquet for the customer.

“His swim bag.” And you left the store.

You’ve lived with your two best friends, the very scary yet beautiful florist Park Jihyo and forgetful playboy Bang Chan, since freshman year of college. You guys were well adults now, doing your own thing but still living together above Jihyo’s flower shop. Chan worked as an assistant swim coach at the local college swim team and he enjoyed his job drilling those poor students the best he could. Jihyo opened her flower shop during her last year of college and has been working there with Yeosang ever since. And you? You held art exhibitions from time to time, selling some paintings here and there. 

The ride to the local college was uneventful as you parked the car and made your way towards the pool. Students stood around, some going to class, some studying in the soft breeze and others just casually chatting with each other. With a small smile you entered the pool area, squeaking in surprise when a group of girls shuffled passed you annoyed.

“Are you okay?” A voice spoke, pulling you out of the way so the girls wouldn’t stomp all over you. “Sorry about them, they get angry when I tell them to leave practice so that the boys can focus.”

“It’s okay. They surprised me is all.” You sighed, looking up at the blond man who helped you out. “Thanks Park.” You beamed up at him.

Park Seonghwa was the main coach for the college swim team and technically Chan’s boss. He was also friends with Yeosang and you’ve known him since college. He was a nice guy with you, sometimes holding danger in his eyes but overall he was just soft with you.

“What brings you here?” He asked as you two entered towards the pools.

“Chan forgot his swim bag.” You looked at the unamused expression Seonghwa had on his face from the corner of your eye and only giggled now fully facing him. “Don’t be too harsh on him. He’ll get a much more doom filled talk when he comes back home from Jihyo.”

“I sure do hope so. He’s really become irresponsible as of lately.” The blond muttered.

“He’s just going through some stuff.” You sighed noticing Chan sitting on the bleachers, his mind wandering. “I’ll just give him the bag and leave. I won’t hold up practice for you guys.”

You ran over to your friend, flicking his fore head to bring him back to the land of the living. He looked up at you and smiled, taking the bag off your shoulder and throwing it on the ground. He pulled out a pack of baby wipes and started gently rubbing off some paint you had on your cheek.

“You have baby wipes?” You asked, closing your eye so he doesn’t peck it out.

“Of course! I have to take care of my struggling artist.” He giggled with you. “Jihyo has some too in her bag for these exact reasons.”

“Thanks.” You nodded your head as Seonghwa joined you two.

“Get dressed Bang, I’m gonna need your help today more than so.” He said, his eyes not amused by the exchange of affection you two displayed.

“Yes sir!” He said and got up to go. “Thanks for bringing this over y/n.” 

“No problem!” You yelled out after him as he waved goodbye to you.

“Are you guys like dating yet or not?” Seonghwa muttered out lowly but you still caugh on.

“You know Chan and I are just roommates. And he has this undying crush on Jihyo not me.” You sighed looking after his frame. “It’s sad that she now has a boyfrined and he’s alone, but at the same time it’s his own fault for not saying something to her on time.” You looked over at Seonghwa and shrugged your shoulders. “Love’s harsh in that way I guess.”

You turned to leave so that you won’t bother their job anymore and noticed how the boys in the pool looked to be having fun as they splashed each other. It made you smile when Seonghwa blew his whistle fiercly telling them to do a few laps to warm up. That whole picture gave you an idea but you couldn’t exactly place your finger on it. 

Something was missing.

“Good luck Park.” You waved him goodbye and left.

･*:༅

Waiting in line for coffee at Sugarberry’s you and Jihyo chatted along your mind wandering a bit. You were scared for the upcoming days because you had a gallery show in about two months but only had half of the pieces done. 

“You’re still struggling with your art?” Jihyo asks as she pays for your coffee.

“Yeah. I can’t seem to find inspiration anywhere...” You sigh and give her a thanks for your coffee. “I don’t even know where to look.”

“Well, the bookshop down the street has something like a poetry night. Maybe you’ll get inspired by some words?” 

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“What’s not a bad idea?” Chan suddenly grabbed you both by the shoulder, pulling you in for a bear hug.

“Poetry night.” Jihyo answered with a huff.

“Sounds boring.”

“I may find my inspiration there.” You giggled out. “Wanna come with?”

“Sorry y/n, but Daniel is coming back from his business trip so I’m going over to his house.” Jihyo apologised and you saw Chan’s mood darken a bit.

“What about you Chan?” 

“Poetry ain’t for me.” He simply stated. 

“Aww, I guess I’ll go alone.” You sighed trying to get the two with your puppy eyes. “Not working?”

“No, sorry.” Both answered.

From the corner of your eye you saw something blue fluttering around and your friends also turned to look at you at the same time. They followed your gaze and were also mesmerized with the creature floating around you suddenly.

“A blue butterfly?” You whispered out the quesiton as it landed on your head. “And it landed on me!”

“I’ve never seen a blue one before.” Jihyo commented.

“Where’d you come from little guy?” Chan brought his face close to your head.

“You’ll scare the butterfly away.” The waitress laughed as she came over to you three. “It’s a rare sight. Blue ones aren’t that common.”

“You know, they say that if you wish upon one it may come true.” She said with a smile. “You better make a wish before it flies off.”

As she left you looked up at the winged creature on your bangs and smiled, whispering out a small wish. 

I wish to find inspiration again.

The butterfly flewed off in the direction of the exit of the outside terace of the caffe and you noticed Seonghwa walking in with two other boys. His eyes caught yours and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. He wasn’t expecting to see you all together. The small creature circled the blond man and disappeared into the skies. And in that moment it clicked to you. The inspiration was there for you all the time. 

It was in Park Seonghwa.

“I see you still like Irish coffee.” He chuckled at your half dazed gaze at him.

“I haven’t stopped.” You laughed as his friends entered the shop. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” He stopped in his tracks.

“This may sound weird, but bear with me for a moment.” You sighed as your friends walked up a bit so they could let you talk to him in private. “I want to draw you, but like would you be willing to let me draw you?”

“I know it’s a weird request, but I finally found my inspiration in you.” You blushed at the last bit. “And I’d like to explore it fully if you’ll let me.”

“To draw me?” He thought for a second, his eyes following your every reaction. It was fascinating to him how you still looked on at him in wonder, since college to now. “Why not? I think It will be fun.”

“Really?” You were surprised at the answer.

“Yeah.” He smiled at your happy expression.

“Awesome!” You exclaimed. “You know where we live right?”

“Yeah, I took Chan home enough after drunken nights to know.” He laughed out. “Does Wednesday sound good?” 

“Yeah. Come by whenever you’re free.” You said excited and jumped over to your friends. “Oh and Seonghwa?” He looked after you. It was the first time since college that you said his name. “Thanks.”

･*:༅

A sharp knock on your front door got you to your feet from your position and you went to open it, revealing a cool looking Seonghwa. He was neatly dressed in a jumper and some washed out jeans, his hair still a bit wet from his job. You let him in with a smile and he placed his shoes by yours, entering the small appartment.

He noticed how the living room was cozy with a simple couch, a few swinging chairs hanging off the ceilings and flowers scattered around. The kitchen was close by warm as ever and four more doors decorated the walls. He noticed how every door was painted over except for one.

“Interesting doors.” He said observing them.

“Right?” You giggled. “When we first moved in Jihyo had this idea for me to paint the doors of our rooms with something that represents each of us. That’s why her door has so much flowers, Chan’s has the coast of Australia and if you look closely I tried painting him on a surfboard but failed miserably, and my door has the view of the Eifel tower because I feel like that’s something every artist needs.” You shrugged your shoulders and led him into your room.

Your canvas and paints have been prepared neatly in front of your bed and Seonghwa took notice just how artistic your room was. Especially the floor with all the paint splotches covering it.

“Ignore the floor.” You said as you noticed him looking at it. “I tried scrubbing it off but it didn’t exactly work so I just gave up.”

“Nah, I think it’s kind of cool. It gives this room your personal touch.” He laughed and went over to sit on your bed. “So how do you want me?”

“Um well, can you lay on the bed? But like sideways. Propt by your elbow. Maybe one leg up too.” You went over to position him as you thought right and Seonghwa felt his breath hitch when you went to touch his shoulder. 

It was a feather touch, just enough to let his jumper slide off his shoulder but it got him all hot and bothered. You were so focused that you didn’t pay attention to any of his expressions while you were this close to him, only looking up when you went back to your canvas.

“This is perfect.” You said with a smile. “I’ll just sketch this out today.”

As you said that you plopped a blueberry from your bedside table into your mouth and went on to your work. The man just observed you and enjoyed this silence which was much needed after a long work day.

The hours passed and you noticed that Seonghwa was eyeing the bowl of blueberries on your table. You laughed out loud when you caught his off guard as you threw one at him.

“If you want some just take them.” You said and handed him the bowl. “I don’t bite if you want some.”

As Seonghwa took the bowl your whole perspective changed and it was then that something hit your heartstrings like a truck.

“Keep the bowl.” Is all you said and rearranged your sketch.

“You like blueberries?” He asked, filling the room with his deep voice.

“They’re my focus berries.” You answered laughing along with him at your words. “They help me focus.”

The comfortable silence which filled the room coated your being with warmth as you continued to do an outline. Chan came home not long after and greeted you both, but locked himself in his room and you sighed. 

“Is he okay?” Seonghwa asked.

“He will be.” You shrugged your shoulders and looked over at the time, jumping to your feet and startling the man. “Oh no, I’ll be late.”

And you remembered he was still in the room with you and you blushed in embarrassement with everything.

“I wanted to go to the poetry night at the bookshop and it’s starting soon.” You said with a small head scratch. “I hope you don’t mind if I cut our session here.”

“Not at all.” He said sitting up and watching you grab a jacket and some stuff so you can leave. “Would you mind if I tag along?”

･*:༅

“That was so beautiful.” You whispered out as the poetry night came to an end. “Those romance poems really have my hands tingling. I can’t wait to get back and start painting.” You sighed in content, finally coming back with a new found inspiration. “Jihyo was right, I needed this.”

“I’m glad.” Seonghwa stated as he walked beside you.

“But that still doesn’t change the fact that I want to paint you.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “Same time next week?”

“Sure.” 

You walked up the steps to your appartment and went back into your room, getting a new canvas out and happily getting lost in your thing. The days passed and so did a month, the painting of Seonghwa almost finished. You guy became much closer friends over this period and he was actually amazed at how well you drew. Today was the last day of working on his painting and just as you finished, you took the canvas to the kitchen so it could dry. 

“We’re done.” You said as you went to get your brushes.

“Awesome, can I see it?” He asked.

“Nope. You have to come to my gallery show to see it!” You excitedly waved one of your brushes and it sploshed some blue paint onto his face. You snorted out a laugh. “Sorry.”

“Well, I guess it’s okay.” He looked next to him and quickly took a brush and placed a large dot of black on your own cheek. “Now we’re even.” 

The huff of surprise you let out was followed by a giggle and a battle of paint broke out between you two. Even one of your blank canvases was now fully covered in greens, bluess, reds and some whites. Seonghwa splashed some paint on your uncovered back and the play time stopped.

“Seonghwa! How will I wash this off now?” You laughed thinking how Chan was out for the night and Jihyo was spending the weekend with her boyfriend.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” He laughed along going to the bathroom.

You followed after him, moving your hair from the way so he could easily access your back. As you did, the strap of your shirt fell off your shoulder and it had the blond man gulping with nerves. He was very gentle in rubbing off the paint, easily cleaning it from your skin. On the other hand, you were blushing like crazy, heat spreading through your body.

“Hey.” He whispered out. “Why were you so scared of me in college? Whenever I hung out with Chan you’d run away from me.”

His touch made you shiver and you know he noticed. 

“I wasn’t scared.” You whispered back. “I was just shy. I had this huge crush on you but didn’t act on it because I thought you didn’t like me like that...” You sighed. “I still do.”

You felt the feathery kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“There was a whole magnificent soul burning brightly behind her shy.” 

The whisper was close to your ear and you turned around, your heart hammering away in your ribcage. His eyes were tender, but there was hidden lust in them, something you didn’t notice before. Even though he had it all the while while looking at you. 

“Have you ever wondered why I never had a girlfriend throughout college? Or even now?” His fingers travelled down your back, the touch leaving fire in it’s wake.

“Rumors were that you were a playboy.”

“I’ve had my fair share of hook-ups, but only because I couldn’t have the one girl I really wanted.” 

“You really wanted to have sex with me?” You turned around, raising your eyebrow. “I’m not the type to do this one night.”

“I know, and I really don’t want to.” He came closer to you now, your noses touching. “I want to fuck you everyday, the whole day.” His breath faned over your face. “How does that sounds?”

“Tempting.” You whispered back. “But we’re covered in paint.”

“A minor set back which can be washed off.” He chuckled, pulling you even closer than before, his hands landing on your hips. “Care to join.”

In slow motion his hands brushed against your skin, pulling your shirt over your head. His hands made their way behind your back and climbed up to reach your bram skillfully unhooking it, all while not breaking eye contact with you. The minute his breath hit your neck, you tugged on his shirt, his smirk striking as he stepped back to take it off.

“You enjoying the view baby?” 

“Are you?” With a strong tug you unbuckled his belt.

“Well look who’s been working out.” He laughed, grabbing the waistband of your jeans. “You’ll have to slow down a bit baby, we still have some paint to wash off.”

Soon enough you were both standing in the shower, the hot water pooling by your legs in a specter of colours. He kissed along your jaw, his hot kisses left stings on your body as the electricity transferred from his mouth to your skin. Your shoulders were now stained blue and purple, the bulge which was his dick now struggling against your ass. You moaned and whimpered at the same time when his hands wandered down your body towards your folds, that ticklish feeling becoming stronger as he teased your clit. 

“God, I can’t take it anymore y/n.” He breathed out as he pressed you closer to him, his hardness growing even more. “I need you.” He mumbled into your ear. “I want you.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Your hazed eyes looked back at him as you stepped on your toes to give him better access.

He didn’t hesitate, he thurst in full strength, the surprise and pleasure filling you fully. The moan which followed made him shiver with something so unknown that his heart skipped a beat.

“Oh my God.” He groaned, hips coming to meet yours full force. “This is, uh, fuck, you’re perfect.” He stuttered. “You just feel so fucking good.” The breathlessness he was showcasing was matched with your loud moans which you were sure Yeosang could hear downstairs.

“H-Hwa...” The groan which left his throat grumbled in your abdomen how strong it was. “F-Faster, I need to take you whole!”

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. He couldn’t believe you would say something like that. Hell, he never imagined he’d have the chance to fuck your brains out like this. 

He pulled almost fully out of you, pausing for a moment only to slip back into your core, a moan erupting from both of your throats. You could feel him inside of you, moving along the ridges of your core and giving you that electric feeling deep inside of the pit of your stomach. He leaned down, bitting on your shoulder as he thrusted into your lower half. He was getting faster, harder, and rougher, and still, it wasn’t enough. His hand came to slap your ass harshly, your walls tightening around him as a result.

“You like that baby.” His shit eating grin had you pulling him into a kiss.

He hooked one of his arms under your leg to get a better angle, pushing you up against the glass doors of your shower, your boobs becoming more sensitive with the cold friction provided.

“I’m really close Hwa.” You cried out.

It’s a mess. Loud. Wet. Uncomfortable. But the high rippling through your body makes it all up to you.

“The way you moan my name has me going places y/n.” He whispered in your ear, pushing your leg up higher and reaching your sweet spot. The way your leg shook had Seonghwa smile to himself knowing he was making you feel like this. When your eyes made contact with his, when he saw just how fucked you were, and when a whimper of his name left your lips... Seonghwa went crashing down. His thursts were so good you let yourself go, tightening around him and cumming with a squeaze of your eyes. 

Seonghwa lost his footing and fell with you on top of him, hitting so deep he released his seed inside of you, making you spasm all over. 

The water came over you much stronger than before and you noticed from your tired vision that as you both fell, you broke the handles and the water wasn’t going to stop soon.

“Fuck...” You layed back onto him, letting his dick fall out of you and the jizz to come out your throbbing hole. “This will be fun to explain to Chan.”

“It’s okay, I know how to fix it.” He said his breathing barely coming back to normal. “I’m sorry I came inside you... It wasn’t my intention.”

“I’m on the pill so we’re good.” You huffed out tired. “Though I’d like a nap.” 

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up and I’ll fix the shower head while you take a nap.” He helped you up and you giggled.

“I hope we can have more of these.” You commented.

“More accidents in the shower?” He laughed.

“More sex.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He came up to you and kissed you on the lips. “We will.”

･*:༅

“But y/n, that painting could make hundreds of thousands of won!” Daniel yelled after you as you walked the gallery halls. “Come on, you have to sell it!”

“Daniel, for the last time.” You turned to him, glaring daggers at his pleading eyes. “I’m not selling the painting of my boyfriend to anybody!” 

With a huff you walked up to Jihyo and Chan as he followed after you. You pleaded with her to stop her stupid boyfriend before you commited a crime and she was quick to put him in his place.

“Why don’t you deal of the rest of my paintings? Why must you target that one?”

“Because you can feel the emotion you put into it.” He whined.

“Yes, and that’s why it will hang in my living room.” An arm snaked around your waist and a kiss was placed on your shoulder. “Please stop trying to sell me off.”

Daniel grumbled but pulled back. You greeted Seonghwa’s friends as they scattered around the hall, enjoying your pieces which hung off the walls. Seonghwa turned to look at the picture in which he laid on your bed, surrounded by sunlight and your many knick-nacks, one hand holding the bowl of blueberries and the other plopping one into his mouth. The most intense gaze staring back at him.

“What made you consider me to be your main piece?” He asked you suddenly.

“I wished upon a blue butterfly and you happened to walk in.” You smiled at him. “I guess that waitress was right.” Your eyes held so much affection for him. “I found my inspiration in you.”

[beauvibaby]

anxious - a.matthews

a/n: totally different than my writing normally on here, taking some random inspiration from things that have happened between my uncle and I

WARNINGS: mentions of physical altercation, anxiety, temper issues, cursing cursing cursing (I think that’s all I just wanted to make sure I covered everything)

“What do you mean you’re going over there?” I gasped into my phone as my mom told me she was going to my uncles house. My mind instantly flashed with what happened last time she was there, I could hear my shaky voice calling the cops all over again, the way I was terrified that he would lay a hand on her and I wouldn’t be able to stop him. “I’m coming with you.” I deadpanned, I was nearly at Austin’s place, planning on spending some quality time with him and some of the guys, and their girlfriends. “Y/N, I’ll be fine, you don’t-“ “for god sakes, mom, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” I quickly hung up the phone, dialing Auston as I made a u-turn, he picked up relatively quickly as I drove a little too fast down the road, but it was empty so I couldn’t really be bothered to care. “Hey, baby, you almost here?” Auston asked and I could hear people talking in the background, I let out a soft sigh. “I’m going to be a little late, my mom needs help with something, I’m sorry.” I lied to him, not entirely, that’s what I had to tell myself. He knew of my uncles issues, but he’d never witnessed them, he’s only met him once and that was in a restaurant so my uncle was actually trying to act normal. And if he knew that’s where I was going he’d have a heart attack, over the safety of me and my mom.

“It’s alright, is everything okay?” He replied, hearing the way my voice shook a little, I could feel the anxiety building in my stomach, I knew a fight was sure to happen when I got there, it always did. “Yeah, just uh, her last bulb went out in the kitchen.” I lied, a stupid lie at that, but he believed it, knowing my mom had a bad knee and couldn’t use the step ladder to change her lights. “But I’ll call you when I’m on the way to your place.” I assured him, my uncles house coming into view. “Alright, love you.” He never failed to sound like a loved truck teenager when he said those words and it always made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. “I love you too.”

The second I stepped out of my car, I could hear them both yelling inside, “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” I mumbled, rushing towards the house as my stomach knotted itself up in worry. I swung the door open and saw my mom standing on one side of the table, him on the other, yelling to the point of where his face was red. He was going back and forth between topics, not even making sense. The only words I caught, or even needed to understand was him telling my mom she was a useless bitch. “Don’t talk to her like that!” I shouted cutting him off, he looked at me incredulously, “don’t tell me how to talk, you’re in my house!” He yelled and I flinched back when he took a step towards me. “Dare I remind you that this is actually my mothers house? Because you’re a fucking lunatic who can’t be trusted to have anything valuable in his name!” I regretted my words the second his hand gripped my wrist. My mom yelling at him, he tuned out her words as he gripped my wrist tightly, I tried pulling it out of his grip. “If you don’t let go of me, I’m calling the cops and having you bakeracted!” I hissed, my eyes narrowing on him as my mom has her phone out and ready to call the cops. He faultered his grip and I took the chance to pull myself from him, “if you don’t go get your shit taken care of you’re going to be out on your own, I’m done dealing with your psychopathic tendencies.” I seethed, grabbing my mom by the hand and pulling her out of there. “Are you okay?” She asked as soon as we were by our cars, I nodded silently, “I, yeah, I’m fine, I’m going to Austons.” I muttered, keeping it together for her sake, knowing if I broke so would she. “You should.” Is all she said, climbing into her car, her tensions running high as well.

I was pulling into my parking spot at Austons apartment complex when everything started to hit me, but I sucked it up, wanting to go inside and see him and hopefully forget about it. I climbed out of the car and headed inside towards the elevator and gasped as I saw the already bruising mark on my wrist, “shit.” I muttered as I stepped into the elevator, it was the middle of summer, so I was in a tank top, and had nothing to cover the mark with. I was undoubtedly going to have to tell Auston, there’s no way he wouldn’t see it. When I got to his floor and I stepped out of the elevator I started to get anxious, and realized I never called him when I left either. I twisted the doorknob to his apartment, the door swinging open, “hey, y/n!” Freddie greeted. His tone was excited but came out a little loud making me flinch, he furrowed his eyebrows as I barely looked up at him, I had yet to walk in enough to see everyone else in the living room. “Are you okay?” He asked quietly, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention. I shook my head as I closed the door leaning back against it as I squeezed my eyes shut, I heard movement and when I opened my eyes no one was in front of me. I took the chance to angrily wipe at my tears before wincing from the pain in my wrist.

“Baby?” Auston called, speed walking around the corner, I flinched shooting straight up like a board, my back pressed flush against the door. “Hey, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” He whispered, seeing how tense and scared I was. “I lied.” I managed to squeak out before I hid myself in his chest, his arms were around me instantly, “what are you talking about?” He asked completely confused as I sniffled against his chest. He moved his hands down to grab mine, moving me back, “ow!” I whined, quickly pulling my wrist away. “Y/N, what the fuck happened?” He gasped, seeing the mark on my skin, “don’t be mad.” I whimpered, and he looked at me his eyes softening. “I’m not mad, just tell me what happened, please.” He pleaded, cupping my face, “my mom went to my uncles house, and when I got there they were yelling.” I paused glancing at my bruising wrist, feeling Auston tense a little bit. “He told my mom she was a useless bitch, so I snapped at him, and then he grabbed my wrist and got in my face-“ “I’m going to fucking kill him.” Auston cut me off, releasing my face as he ran an angry hand through his hair. “That’s it, I threatened to call the cops, he let me go, and I came here.” I tried reasoning with him as he had a stone cold look on his face. “He physically hurt you!” Auston snapped a little to loudly and Mitch, Stephanie and Freddie peeked around the corner.

Auston was too busy pacing around the entryway to listen to me trying to tell him to let it go. Stephanie knew about my uncle, having found me after yet another argument. She saw the look in my eyes, “oh, y/n.” She muttered rushing over to me, the guys sharing a confused look as Auston went out into the hallway. “Don’t just stand there, go stop him!” Stephanie snapped at the the two guys, they didn’t question her and ran out into the hallway. “I just want to stay here with him.” I whispered to her when she asked if I needed anything. “God they’re idiots, let me go talk some sense into them.” She sighed releasing me when she heard all the guys now angrily speaking outside. “Hey you, genius, get your ass in there and put your manly pride aside, she doesn’t want you to beat the shit out of him, she wants you to hold her and tell her she’s okay.” I laughed at Stephanies temper towards Auston and within a second he was back in here.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He sighed scooping me up in his arms, I hid my face in his neck as I held onto him, he walked into the living room continuing his muttered words of endearment. “It’s okay, any other time I would’ve gladly let you handle him.” I laughed lightly, and I felt him loosen up as he sat down on the couch with me as I still clung onto him. “I just don’t want to think about him anymore, I’m so tired of the drama. I just want to live my life without dealing with his craziness. One day he’s going to be my problem and I swear to-“ “baby, calm down, and one day he won’t be your problem, he’ll be our problem, and I’ll be damned if he lays a hand on you again.” He cut me off, his words making me let an audible aw fall from my lips. “We’re just gonna go.” Mitch muttered grabbing his keys off the counter, disappearing out of the door nearly as quick as he appeared. I let a soft laugh past my lips as I met Auston’s eyes. “Are you mad at me for lying?” I asked like a little girl. “No of course not, I just wish you had told me, but you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” He assured me, a range of emotions running through his eyes. “You know what would make me feel better?” I asked after a while of silence, he was gently holding my wrist with an occasional kiss being placed on it. “What’s that?” He mumbled meeting my eyes, a lopsided smile on his face as he saw my droopy eyes from crying. “Ice cream.” I practically mouthed, and he let his head fall back in a laugh. “That can be arranged.”

[wherevermyway]

bound up // binchan // oneshot // 18+

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: explicit sexual content, BDSM, rope bondage, dacryphilia, degradation word count: 2,722 also on AO3

originally posted: 13 november 2020

Chan and Changbin had an unconventional relationship, and they had some peculiar ways of relieving built up tension. Sometimes, vanilla sex was too boring. Drawing out their orgasms in the oddest ways possible really bring them closer together and make them feel better in multiple different ways.

Luckily, their oddities fit well with one another.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are  interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do  not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of  the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable,  please stop reading now.

“Is that tight enough, love?” Chan sarcastically coos, knowing that his lover can’t respond. If Changbin was honestly uncomfortable, he would have pressed the clicker he held in hands. Instead, the man bent in half, arms behind his back and tied up in an intricately woven criss-cross pattern in black rope, offers a strained grumble through his open-mouthed spider gag.

“It’s a shame you can’t speak, hmm? You’ve been so talkative lately, and it’s so nice to not hear you talk for once.” Changbin winces at Chan’s words, drool starting to spill from his mouth as he looked up to his senior.

Chan wore a proud, arrogant smirk on his face like he had gotten first place in a marathon, looking down at Changbin. His junior was being a bit too snappy and opinionated during rehearsals, and Chan knew this would be the perfect way for them to relieve some tension. “Shall we begin, my pretty little bratty boy?”

Changbin offers a weak nod, wiggling his toes around and adjusting the positioning of his arms as they pulled against the rope fastened to the ceiling.

“Remember to click if you need me to stop, alright?” Another nod in affirmation, paired with a tiny squeak.

The two of them just simply worked this way. They had been an unofficial item for nearly a year now, but they really preferred their unconventional relationship and unusual way of relieving tension. One night, when they were drinking on the rooftop and staring out at the Seoul skyline, Changbin blurted out how he had always wanted to try restraint play, but he figured he’d never find someone he trusted enough to try it.

“Why not me?” Chan slurred slightly, taking a drink from his bottle of strawberry soju. “We’ve known each other for years, dude. Not to mention, we’ve been sleeping together for, what, five months now? It could be fun.”

Changbin had shook his head in disbelief and stared wildly at Chan. “You don’t know what you’re doing, though.”

Chan offers a cheeky smile in response. “I never said that.”

This was their sixth restraint session, and they were getting bolder and bolder with each new session. Chan had just installed a seemingly innocent hook into the ceiling of their studio, something strong, yet easily concealable, and they were both dying to try it out.

Sure, their sex was satisfying enough, but to open up to someone and be so vulnerable with them was like ascending to another plane that was unattainable for most conventional relationships. Chan would bring Changbin down enough, knock him down several pegs to reset his arrogant attitude and pent up energy. Then, he would bring him back up to where he wanted to be as they cuddled in their dorm room and watched stupid videos on the internet, Changbin curled up against Chan, until they passed out together.

Chan’s embrace at the end of all of this felt so much sweeter because of the labour they went through to get to it. For Changbin to earn it. Sure, he could find himself in Chan’s arms whenever he wanted, but the way that Chan felt to him after their sessions was otherworldly.

“Alright,” Chan sighed as he sat down in the chair across from Changbin. He danced his fingers over the rope shears on the table, then grabbed a remote control, fiddling with his laptop with his other hand. Some background noise-type of lo-fi electronica quietly boomed through the studio’s speakers.

“I want you to be a good boy and press the clicker in your hand. Let’s see if I can still hear it over the music.”

Changbin does as requested, a couple of plasticky clicking noises coming from behind him. Chan nods and taps around on his laptop a couple of times until the music shifts to some other similar sounding song. “Now we can get started.” He leans back into his chair, bringing up the remote control to his face as he locks eyes with Changbin.

The two of them exchange an excited, somewhat nervous glance. A string of drool continuously spills from Changbin’s mouth, and Chan devilishly smirks.

“Three minutes, twenty five seconds until the next song.” He presses a couple of buttons on the remote control, and Changbin’s knees curl inward and his head drops. A throaty moan shakes its way through the younger man as he shudders at the sensation as the vibrating prostate massager quivers inside of him. “Like we discussed prior, you’re not allowed to come until the end of this playlist, and I’m not going to tell you how long the entirety of it is, only how long each song is. With every song, I’m going to up the ante. If you come before you’re permitted, there will be consequences.”

Changbin lifts his head, locking eyes with Chan before he nods once and drops his head back down. He tries to keep his pathetic mewls restrained, but some choked whines and whimpers still manage to escape him, causing Chan to nibble on his bottom lip in excitement. As the music played in the background, Chan grabbed a small candle off of the table next to him and lit it, preparing it for the next song.

Using wax wasn’t really something that crossed Chan’s mind, but when Changbin awkwardly gave him a couple of candles the day prior, he couldn’t resist the thought of adding it to the session he had in mind. “They’re special,” the younger man had whispered. “Don’t use these to make shit look pretty, because it’d be a waste. These were expensive and I don’t wanna waste them.”

Chan shook his head in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

“Me,” Changbin furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips, his face flushed. “Use them on me tomorrow. That’s why I bought them.”

The tiny flame flickered and Chan smiled as he looked at it. There was twenty seconds left of the current song, so he stood up and held the candle, taking a few steps towards Changbin. “The next song is two minutes and fifty-five seconds. I think you’ll look pretty with your back painted in blue, hmm?”

Changbin tried to hum in some sort of response, but the spattering of warm wax to his back causes his soft murmur to turn into an unrestrained, loud moan.

“Now, now,” Chan tuts as he stops dripping wax onto the younger man’s back. “Everyone may be back in the dorms, but you never know who may hear you sound like such a needy whore. Do you want someone to walk by the door and hear you pathetically moaning for me?”

Chan doesn’t wait for a response he knows won’t come, so he tips the candle in his hand again, painting mindless patterns against Changbin’s skin, indigo blue spattering recklessly onto the roped arms of the bound man, against his own black button-up shirt. The wax would come off, Chan figured, and this was a small price to pay in order to watch his junior squirm.

The song was nearly over, and Chan brought the candle up to his face and blew out the small flame. Almost perfectly timed with the end of the song, he spun on his heel and walked back to the table, setting the candle down as the next song started playing. He started pressing buttons on the remote control again, causing Changbin to cry out again, curling his toes and shaking the ceiling rope a bit as his body convulsed. Saliva dripped from his lips, feeding into the growing pool underneath him.

“Four minutes, twenty-five seconds. Let’s see if you can hold out with this setting.” Chan looked over his shoulder, taking in the view of the mess they were starting to make all over the studio floor. Blue wax had splattered onto the hardwood floor, which would easily come off with a bit of effort. Changbin was twitching uncontrollably now, and precum was starting to add to the chaos painted on the floor.

Waiting for four minutes for the next phase was going to kill Chan. He reached a hand down to his pelvis, pressing the heel of his palm against his erection. Subconsciously, he looked to his laptop. Three minutes, thirty-seven seconds. A hiss escaped his teeth and he shook his hands away, trying to compose himself.

“You should know better than to talk back to me during practice, you know,” he groans, trying to distract himself by talking down to Changbin. “A dumb slut like you knows better, unless you’re specifically trying to rile me up so I treat you like this?” Changbin makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whine and a moan, shaking his head and causing saliva to go flying from his mouth.

At first, Chan didn’t understand why Changbin asked him to talk down to him during their sessions, to call him such degrading things. However, for some bizarre reason, it was one of the things Chan loved doing the most. With each session, he looked forward to this more and more.

Two minutes, fifty-one seconds.

“Regardless of if you’re even capable enough to not come before you’re allowed to, I’ve decided I’m going to paint that pretty face of yours with my cum,” Chan’s breathing was heavy, his nails digging into his skin as he felt his cock throb against the cotton of his briefs. “I’m gonna make you walk around with my cum all over your face and show you off to everyone, show every one of our friends how much of a pathetic slut you are for me.”

Chan’s words were dangerously close to causing Changbin to prematurely come all over the floor. He buckled his knees and whined, tugging hard against the rope fastened to the ceiling. He regained enough composure to look up to Chan with teary eyes, tears spilling down his face, a pleading look in his gaze. It may not seem like it to anyone else, but this look was what made the degradation worth it to Chan. Changbin was beside himself, loving how he was being forced exactly into the place he wanted to be.

Another glance to the computer. One minute, twelve seconds.

It was early, but Chan slowly walked over to just in front of Changbin’s face. “Are you going to be a good boy and keep yourself from coming?”

A nod. A whine.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Chan whispers, reaching up to Changbin’s soft, black hair, and giving it a couple of gentle strokes. “But you’re going to stay just as you are a little longer and make yourself useful.” The elder knelt down, taking in the look of how the metal fastened to leather straps inside of Changbin’s mouth looked. He made a mental note to make sure to apply some more lip balm to the younger man’s lips as soon as they were done, as they were starting to dry and crack a bit.

They exchange a caring glance, something that couldn’t be hidden no matter how hard and stern Chan tried to act. Deep down inside, they both really did love each other. That couldn’t be hidden.

The song faded out and blended into a new one, and Chan smiled. “Five minutes, thirty-seven seconds. Once this one is over and I’ve come all over that pretty face of yours,” he says in a low voice, standing up and fumbling with his belt buckle, “I might let you come. We’ll see how much of a good boy you are while you get me off, hmm?”

Chan doesn’t bother removing his pants, only undoing them enough to pull his cock out. The cool air is enough to cause a shiver to run down his spine. He takes Changbin’s chin into his hand and guides his way into the younger man’s mouth. It feels a little different, knowing that there won’t be the added sensation of having a vacuum-like seal around him, but it didn’t matter. He was already so close to coming from watching Changbin writhe and listening to his pitiful whimpers and moans.

Changbin wastes no time guiding his tongue around the length of Chan’s cock. He acts as if his tongue was a paintbrush, painting swift, broad strokes of saliva against the warm canvas presented to him. Chan revels in this for a few moments before pushing in a bit more aggressively, needing more stimulation. As he hits the back of Changbin’s throat, he watches the younger man twitch, and he pulls back a bit.

“I’m gonna move. Be a good boy and stay still, hmm?”

Changbin lets out a muffled whimper, but doesn’t press down on the clicker, so Chan interprets that as an affirmation. He sucks in a deep inhale, grabbing a fistful of his junior’s hair and slowly increases his pace.

The music is more intense now. Chan specifically picked this bass-heavy song, imagining how it would feel to fuck Changbin’s dripping wet mouth. A pained groan leaves his lips as he starts to relentlessly thrust into the younger man’s mouth, the head of his cock rubbing against the firm tissue at the back of his throat.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Chan tries to stay composed as he whines. He doesn’t bother looking at the remote in his other hand as he aimlessly presses a couple of different buttons on it. Changbin nearly collapses onto the ground in reaction and Chan rubs his thumb soothingly against his scalp. “Not yet, not yet.” He’s not even trying to hide his pants as he fucks a little faster now. “I’m gonna come all over that pretty face of yours first. Gonna let everyone know you’re mine. You’re fucking mine.”

Chan can’t help but gasp as his possessive nature slips out, but he doesn’t care. The way that Changbin gives himself up to Chan, trusts him so much, enough to restrict his movements and use him as nothing more than a glorified sex object makes him possessive. Protective. If anyone did anything to hurt Changbin, Chan wouldn’t be able to contain himself.

“Fuck,” the older man whines as he pulls out, right as the song transitions into the next bass-heavy song. He lets go of Changbin’s head and mops up some of the spent drool under his chin, using it as a makeshift lube as he pumps his cock. “Look at me. Show me how badly you want my cum all over your face like the cumslut I know you are.”

Changbin obliges, his eyes weepy and his cheeks tearstained.

That’s all it takes. Chan throws his head back for a moment before he forces himself to watch as his cum spills all over Changbin’s face. He pants and shudders a couple of times, nearly collapsing to his knees due to the intensity of his orgasm. “You’ve done so well,” he gasps. “You’ve earned it, so do it. Come. Just fucking come for me.”

Chan pushes a button on the remote control again, and Changbin’s back arches, a choked, guttural moan absorbed by the soundproofing on the walls. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, his arms staying in place thanks to the ceiling restraint. Chan watches as Changbin’s cock twitches, cum splattering over the dried wax and precum from earlier.

They take a moment to come back to reality, and Changbin finally drops the clicker from his hands. Chan bends down to the younger man’s face, undoing the metal fasteners at the back of the gag. “You did so well; I’m so blown away by you yet again. That was absolutely incredible. How are you feeling?”

Changbin pops his jaw a couple times and shakes his head. “That was great,” he sighs and looks up to Chan. “I’m not gonna lie, though, my jaw is killing me.”

The older man laughs, pressing a kiss to the younger man’s forehead. “Well, I’ll untie you, get you cleaned up, and then you can have a well-deserved break. We can shower and get that wax off of you, then cuddle up under the covers all night. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds great,” Changbin weakly smiles. “I love you, but you’re cleaning all of this up, though. My arms are sore as fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chan rolls his eyes. “I love you too.”

[saltedpeppermintmocha]

into the night (bakugou x reader) - Chapter 3/?

Summary:

You were born to die.

It is a fact you’ve known since your quirk first manifested, and one you have been denying for just as long. You refuse your supposed fate and try to live the best life you can while remaining undetected.

But maybe fate has another plan. A chance encounter on a mountainside changes your life forever.

Chapter One

MATURE : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT // 18+

“-such an asshole though!” You groan into your hands, hiccuping lightly.  

“I couldn’t hear that, but I can kinda guess what you said.”  A tinny voice responded.

“Sorry.” You mumble, bringing the phone up to your ear. “I’m jus’ angry.”

She laughs. “And drunk."

“Mmmaybe.” You attempt.

“Honey, I know when you’re drunk.” She laughs. “I met drunk you first.”

“HAH! Yeah, that was great.” You smile at the ceiling.

“I don’t know about that.” Her voice is light and airy. “Having some random girl come into the bar at like midnight screaming that I stole her desserts wasn’t exactly how I planned my first day open to go.”

“But, you met me!”

“Ah, and my life hasn’t been boring since.” Another light laugh. You hear a different voice in the background. “Okay hun, I have to get back to work now. Take care of yourself okay? Drink water, eat some bread.”

“Imma go for a walk.” You decide, sitting up. The room spins a little, so you close your eyes.  

“Uh, that’s probably a bad idea hun.” The voice on the phone continues. “Just stay home.”

“No no no nonononononono.” You say. “ s’Makkari, s’fine.”

“I just don’t want you to run into any shady characters out there.”

“Pshhh, shade-shady characters should be scared of ME!”

The voice in the background gets a bit louder. She puts a hand over the phone and responds to them. “Ah, shit okay. One sec.” The muffled sound stops as she takes it off. “Hun I gotta go, but please be safe okay? Text me in the morning.”

“Will do captain.” You salute lazily, then hang up the phone. Ah, shit. You forgot to say goodbye. Bringing the phone into your eyesight, you sigh sadly. You miss her. Naoko had been too busy with an event at the bar a week before you left, so you haven’t seen her in almost two weeks now. It’s longer than you’ve gone without seeing your friend since her bar first appeared in your neighborhood.

Putting your phone down on the bed, you stretch a little before reaching towards your nightstand. Past-you had been smart enough to grab some water on your way upstairs, so you chug it. It doesn’t make you feel any less woozy, but you hope you’ll be happier in the morning because of it. Once gone, you return the glass to the nightstand and stand up, making your way shakily downstairs. The stairs are no challenge for you, so you make your way towards the front door, pausing only to peek into the living room. Dad is still passed out on the couch, the blanket you laid over him earlier somehow still holding on. The room itself is a bit of a mess with beer cans littered throughout, but that is a problem for tomorrow.

You give a quick nod, grab your jacket, and head on out into the cold. It should be cold, as evidenced by your breath becoming visible, but your alcohol-ridden body stays warm as you walk. It’s only after you’ve gone quite a distance that your body starts to register the change in temperature. You don’t mind much, the cold serves as the shock your system needs to gain more awareness. While you are walking a bit more clunky than normal, you are no longer stumbling or swaying. You feel lucky that nobody is outside to witness you.

Nostalgia hits you in full force as you pass your old elementary school. Memories flash behind your eyes of running around the field, digging in the dirt, and playing make-believe. You were lucky to go to school here. Nobody gave too much thought into quirks beyond the initial ‘cool’ factor. Kids from Makkari didn’t have particularly strong quirks, and you can only think of one classmate that even dreamed of becoming a hero. Maybe that's why Dad decided to come here after all.

You pass the school and continue down the road, drawing a smiley face of condensation on the window of Tanaka’s store as you pass. Task completed, you continue on your aimless walk. You should probably start heading back soon, your fingers and toes are getting a bit cold. You look up as you walk, marveling at the star-lit sky. The sky in Sapporo is never this pretty.

“Watch it, idiot.”

Your head snaps forward at the unexpected voice, vision swimming slightly.  There is a person directly in front of you. A few blinks later, your eyesight clears enough to recognize him. The asshole on the mountain. The blond is dressed in all black, breath coming out in quick wisps of mist in front of him. You can hear a dull beat of music from his headphones.

“It’s a shady character!” You raise your hand to your mouth, covering a gasp.

A scowl forms on his face. “The fuck did you call me?!”

You giggle, hand leaving your mouth to return to your side. You want to say something, really, but nothing is coming to mind. In the end, you just stare at him. To be fair, he also takes a minute to consider you. Those red eyes flicker up and down your body, brows furrowing.

“You’re drunk.” That scowl fades a bit into an unimpressed look.

“Whaat?” You deny, looking away. “Nooo.”

“So you’re usually fucking dumb enough to walk around in slippers?”

Huh?  You look down at your feet. “Oh.” Wiggling your toes a bit, you giggle. “Cold.”

“Tch. Dumbass.” A moment of silence. You are still looking down at your feet when you hear the shuffling of clothes. Looking up, you realize he has begun to leave. Something in you wants to stop him. Probably the alcohol. Wait, what is he even doing here? Shouldn't he be up on the mountain? Is he actually here?

“Are you a ha-hallucination?” You ask, taking a step forward. You bring your hand up towards him, not entirely sure what you intend to do. It stops inches from his shoulder. Huh? A warm hand is wrapped around your wrist, preventing you from making contact. “You feel real.” Your hand opens and closes in his grasp.

“Go home, extra.” He scowls. Wow, his eyes look more intense up close.

“Yanno,” You say. “I think - I think you’d be pretty if you smiled.”

“Hah?!” Red eyes widen a small bit.

You smile at him, big and bright. “Like ‘dis.” It’s a bit muffled through your smile. There is a moment of silence, both frozen in place before he scoffs. Your hand drops heavily to your side as he lets go. The hand that was holding your wrist moves to your shoulder, a sudden pressure forcing you to completely turn around to face the village.

You stumble as he lightly pushes you forward. “Go home.” Looking over your shoulder, your eyes lock with narrowed red ones. Ugh.

“Fine.” You mumble, turning back to walk. “Byebye shady character.”  You can almost feel that intense gaze on your back as you walk away, only breaking when you turn a corner. It’s a bit weird, but despite his sudden appearance, you don’t feel unsafe around the mysterious blond. That intense gaze was more...intriguing than scary. Maybe it’s because he saved your life. Hm.

It takes you much longer to get home than you thought. You had been too distracted to realize that you made it all the way through the village and onto the surrounding side roads. Extremely unsafe, in hindsight, and something you would never do in Sapporo. Still, the walk back was quiet and easy.

Dad is still passed out when you re-enter the house. You adjust the now fallen blanket to once again cover him and head upstairs. Now that you are a bit soberer and inside, your feet feel frozen. You grimace and change into pajamas and your thickest socks. You contemplate having another layer of socks, but decide to just head to bed instead.

You don’t exactly fall asleep, but pass out when you hit the bed.

The headache creeps up on you in the morning. At first, you think you’ve gotten away without any consequences of trying to keep up with your Dad in drinking, but by the time you are dressed and heading downstairs, your head feels like a jackhammer has hit it.

The main floor is clean of any remnants of last night. Dad is fully dressed and humming while making breakfast. You frown, jealous at his cheerful demeanor.

“Morning.” Dad sings, placing food down on the table. It is a simple breakfast today, definitely something your body should be able to take. You grunt in response and grab a piece of toast, nibbling lightly on the edge. Breakfast is a quiet affair today, with Dad slipping you some headache pills in the middle of it. Ah, how you love him.

“Your phone is buzzing.”

Glancing down at your phone, you see it light up briefly. Huh. While you had grabbed it on your way downstairs, the headache had made you concerned about checking it.

[ 7 New Messages ]

[ 6 Missed Calls ]

You blink at your phone, confused. Checking the missed calls first, you see they are all from Naoko: four from last night, two from this morning.

22:08

Naoko: Hey hun plz remember to text me when ur home.

23:34

Naoko: Are you still on ur walk?

23:55

Naoko: Plz let me know you got home ok.

01:24

Naoko: I hope you’re just passed out at home. PLZ CALL ME IN THE MORNING

Naoko: I am not above calling Makkari police on ur ass.

08:33

Naoko: Okay I’m getting really worried now.

09:10

Naoko: Please be alright.

“Oh shit.” You sit up straight, thumbs hitting the buttons to call Naoko back instantly.

“Not at the table,” Dad grumbles.

“But-” The phone connects.

“I’m going to kill you.” Aaand she's pissed. You grimace at the sound of her voice, a bubble of guilt growing in your stomach.

‘Out.’ Dad mouths, pointing towards the living room. You roll your eyes but get up, passing the living room to make your way up the stairs.

“I’m so sorry!” You say. “I honestly got home and passed out. I just woke up!”

There’s a long silence on the other end as you enter your bedroom, sitting down at your desk. Then, a sigh. “It’s alright.” She replies, and you can practically hear the anger drain from her voice. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was just worried, you know? The last I hear, you are absolutely drunk and wandering the streets. It’s not safe.”  That bubble of guilt grows a bit more in your stomach. As the owner of a bar in the busy downtown core of Sapporo, Naoko has witnessed a fair share of horrible things happen to drunk people. You stay quiet as she seems to calm herself, then “I never got it out of you last night, why were you even that drunk?”

“I tried to outdrink my dad.” You mumble.

“...Really?” She sounds surprised. “Your dad? All of this wasn’t at least for some guy or something? A rebound?”

“As if!” You let out a sharp laugh. “There’s no cute guys in Makkari.” An exaggeration, sure, but the cute ones are either taken or not in your age range. In fact, now that you’re thinking about it, you might be one of the only single people around your age in the village. Oof, that's a bit of a punch to the gut.

“What about your mountain boy?” Naoko asks. “I thought you said he was attractive.”

“He is  but he’s a complete…jerk…” Your words fade off a bit as a memory floods your mind. The night sky, dark and beautiful. Drawing a smiley face in the window. Blond hair and a heavy base echoing from headphones. Red eyes and a scowl. A hand on your wrist, on your shoulder.

“Ahhh…” You raise your free hand to your cheek, feeling it heat up. “Oh no."

“What?”

“I think...I think I saw him last night.”  

“Wait, while drunk?”

“I don't remember all of it!” You insist. You remember reaching for him, smiling big in his face. “It’s all a bit blurry, but I think we talked for a minute.” Oh shit, what did you do? What did you say??

A laugh echoes through the phone, juxtaposition from the dread that creeps up your spine. When you reached out, what exactly were you doing? “Well, did he walk you home?”

“No." You hope you would remember that. "I don’t think so…”  There's a disapproving sound from Naoko on the other end, then a thoughtful silence. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Alright, I’ll let it go. For now. ” She responds. “Hm, let's see, I can tell you about this girl that came into the bar last night…”

The call didn’t last much longer after that. Your heart wasn’t really in it, and Naoko always has a bunch of errands to run on her days off. You hang up the phone and place it on your desk, walking over to plop down face-first on your bed. You groan as more blurry half-memories from last night flood your brain. Did you make even more of a fool of yourself in front of that jerk? Ugh.

Eventually, Dad calls you to help with clean-up downstairs, so you begrudgingly pull yourself up and go help. You shoo him away from the sink, manners telling you that if he made the food you should be the one to clean up. Instead of leaving, however, he sits back down at the table and talks. It warms your heart, really, how much you can tell that he’s missed you.

You agree to go with him today to run errands. Originally you had planned to climb the mountain today, but after everything that happened yesterday you are not too sure if you can face the blond again. It’s a nice day, walking through the village and spending more time chatting to folk. You both pop into Tanaka’s store and chat for a bit with him. It feels like you are a teenager again, almost like you’ve gone back in time, but Dad has gone more grey since you’ve last seen him, and Tanaka struggles to move around the store like he used to.

Dad stays to chat with Tanaka a bit longer as you pop into the nearby cafe. You are next in line when familiar voices make you turn around. Saneka and Nakamura wave from the door, walking up to talk. It’s mostly mindless small-talk until Nakamura brings up the noises on the mountain again. He mentions hearing them again last night, definitely more interested in them than the other day. You think about the blond, his scowl, and intense gaze, and honestly consider mentioning something. But what would be the consequences of that? If a hero had to come to Makkari to take care of an unlicensed quirk, that would only spell more trouble. And, well, you sort of owe him. You deny hearing anything.

Luckily, you are next to order. You order a latte from someone you don’t recognize. It’s made quickly, and you wave at Saneka and Nakamura as you leave, headed back towards Tanaka's store. You are about to go in when your pocket buzzes. Letting go of the handle, you check your phone.

[ 1 New Message ]

Naoko: What did you say the mountain guy’s quirk was?

You are confused at the sudden question. Sure, you were drunk when you explained it, but you don’t suddenly have more information now. Why did she even care? With one hand occupied with the coffee, you slowly answer. Thank god for autocorrect.

You: I’m not really sure. Didn’t see it.

You: It was loud tho, and strong. The trees were completely shattered. Some I think were on fire?

[ Incoming call: Naoko ]

The hell? You pick up the phone. “Uh, hello?”

“Was it like an explosion?!”

“Hm, yea. I guess so.”

“Shit.” She mumbles to herself, voice shaking slightly. “I think that might be him...”

“Who?” You take a sip of coffee.

“A pro hero.” You startle at her answer, coffee definitely going down the right pipe. Coughing harshly, you hit your chest with the hand holding the phone and try to breathe. It takes a minute before you calm down.

“A-what?” You finally make out. “That’s not possible.”

“I don’t know hun.” She replies. “Just, the description you gave of him and the attitude and now the quirk….” She fades off for a moment. “Google him. Ground Zero.” You place your coffee on the sidewalk, careful to not knock it over. You put her on speaker and open up your internet app, typing in ‘Ground Zero hero’.

You pause, hand over the ‘search’ button. There is no way. Naoko must be wrong. But Naoko has always been obsessed with heros and hero culture. Still, she could be wrong about this, right? Your heart pounds a bit harder. Heroes don’t come to Makkari. Nothing happens here. Why would he be here? It makes no sense. Taking a shaky breath, you hit the button. It takes a minute, as your data has always been a bit spotty out here, but soon the page loads.

RED RIOT TAKES DOWN VILLAIN WITH GROUND ZERO

IS GROUND ZERO DATING FELLOW HERO URAVITY?

GROUND ZERO: SETTING A HORRIBLE EXAMPLE FOR CHILDREN

TOP 10 EXPLOSIVE GROUND ZERO INTERVIEWS

You stare at the articles as they come up, dread crawling up your spine. There are no pictures, but something in you fears the worst. You click on the images tab. It loads slowly, but the first image that appears makes your stomach plummet.

Blond hair. A red, intense gaze. A seemingly permanent scowl. Your wide eyes take in more photos as they load. Some of them are professional, magazine shoots or runway press. Some of them are shakier, taken of him the heat of battle with a terrifying look on his face.

“Well?” Naoko's loud voice shocks you from your staring.

You take a deep breath. “It’s him.”

In a village like this, if a hero showed up it would be the only thing people talked about for years. So, why haven’t you heard of it? You frown in thought. If people don’t know, did he come here in secret? It's extremely suspicious, but if it was something bad, why would he risk his cover to save you?

“Let’s talk about this later.” You take it off speakerphone and press it to your ear. “How does five sound?”

“Sure.” She replies steadily. This discovery seemingly has less of an effect on her. “I have some other stuff I have to do anyway. If you run into him again, think you can get an autograph for me?”

You respond unsure and hang up after a quick goodbye. Reaching down, you grab at your latte and take a large sip, not really tasting it as it goes down.

The door to the store opens and your dad pops his head out. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” You give him a -hopefully confident- smile. He still looks concerned, so you take the opportunity to hide from his gaze by walking into the store. Tanaka waves at you from the counter.

“What was that about?” Dad asks from behind.

“Just...work.”

“Does your team really need to call you on vacation? What is so urgent about accounting?” The two of you reach the counter. You determinedly look at Tanaka, avoiding Dad's gaze.

“Uh, yea.” You mumble, before realizing you probably need more to dissuade him. “One of my juniors made a mistake, so she called me to figure out how to fix it.”  It concerns you how easy it has become to lie to him. Dad makes a sound that you can't understand without looking at him, but you can feel another question coming, one you probably can’t answer. You decide to change the topic.

“Hey, Tanaka.” You lean against the counter, feigning causality. “That guy that is staying in Fuccanchi, what do you know about him?"

“Oh, him again!” Tanaka smiles. “Not much, I’m afraid. I’m afraid you lost your chance dear, he left this morning.”

...

Oh.

[secretshinigami]

routine and soft eyes

Author: @hazblogs For: @beyondplusultra Pairings/Characters: nearmellomatt, mention of lawlight Rating/Warnings: T, mentions of Mello’s scar  Prompt: Wammy House kids sleepover (A, B, L can be included, can be AU) Author’s notes: I had so much fun with this !!! soft bois…. thank you to anyone who reads it !!

Mello is positively fuming. Someone (who shall not be named, though if you want to know it starts with “N” and ends with “-ate River”) just got on top of Forensic Science and Investigative Skills and History of Crime and the Justice System. Those are Mello’s topics. They’re the best at these and they always have been (in the two years they’ve studied here. But that’s long enough, right ?), so the fact that Mister Nobody just came in and stole their turf… That’s infuriating. To top it all off, the dean did them dirty and assigned someone to the second bed in their room, knowing full well that they need that second bed for Matt. This week is just a pile of flaming shit.

As they swing the door open they are greeted by the beeping sounds usually coming from Matt’s bed, a comforting electronic melody. Matt doesn’t even turn around to raise his middle finger to protest against how loud Mello is, but that’s also common practice around here, so no worries. 

“Heard you got your ass beat,” Matt says a while later, Mello’s hand carding through his strawberry-green hair. “By the newbie no less. How’re you taking it ?”

“Matt, my hand is dangerously close to your eyes and you need those to play on that stupid console. Better not risk it.”

“Like you’d ever hurt me,” Matt grumbles, and the certainty with which he speaks makes their heart pulse just a little faster. Mello is hopelessly in love, aren’t they ?

The rest of the evening is quiet save for that same musical background, a welcome white noise as Mello finishes their essay for Writing Comedy. The teacher seems to have some trouble with their rather macabre humour so they try to tone it down for once - rather unsuccessfully.

“Also heard you’ll have a roommate,” Matt continues a few hours later as they prepare for bed - gotta put some moisturiser on that scar like a damsel doing her skincare routine, the doctor said, “or you’ll experience how actually painful it can be”. Talk about being threatening…

“I heard. I can kick them out.” Mello would do it. Without remorse, even.

“I can sleep in your bed too,” Matt offers. “But only if you promise not to kick me out from under the covers every single night.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off, and secondly, why the hell would I want someone else to room with me ? You’re already here. You’ve always been here.”

“And I always will be, Mels. Just… I think it’s time you get out of your shell a little bit, you know ? You can’t keep pretending that talking to me twice every day and ignoring Linda a couple times a week is enough friendly interaction for the little pea inside your coconut.” Mello turns away from the mirror, moisturiser in hand, and sends a glare to Matt who sighs and raises his hands in defeat. “Don’t say I didn’t try ! Think about it, okay, Mello ?”

They do think about it. The whole night. They don’t sleep - it’s not because Matt snores but that’s the excuse they’ll use. Ever since the accident and the scar, people have usually been too impressed - or scared - by them to even consider starting a casual conversation. Matt was there even before, and he probably always will be, Linda is a weirdo who wants to draw them with a ponytail, and… Well, that’s it. Mello lives for schoolwork, to be the best and hope to right some of the wrongs in this world.

“Yo, Mihael,” the dean says when he sees them in front of his office the following morning. Lawliet is a TA at their university, still haunting the dorms. He has a creepy smile under his stupid raccoon eyes and he keeps using Mello’s birthname, like it makes any more sense to call them with that than to call them “xXx_sexy_blondie_xXx”, or however you pronounce that out loud.

“Lawliet. I saw you assigned me a roommate.”

“I did,” he smiles still, like there’s a joke Mello doesn’t get.

“Why ?” Mello would actually like to know - Lawliet never does anything at random.

“You’ll see when he arrives later today,” is the cryptic answer, and Mello sneers at their stupid fucking dean as they leave for their 8am lecture.

Because yes, multiple things are out to get their skin - though they won’t be deterred.

The day goes by in a flash, Screenwriting and Poetry being two of their most interesting classes, and by the time they’ve finished their Crime Prevision and Prevention homework at the library, the sun is well on its way down. Mello walks slowly to the dorms, enjoying the warm air - it’s still only September and winter hasn’t come yet. The music blasting from their headphones is a perfect background to the chill atmosphere, a few bird silhouettes dark against the wonderfully peach clouds. In a few minutes they’ll kiss Matt and they’ll eat a bite, and they’ll sleep knowing they’re safe now.

When they arrive in front of their room, a few cardboard boxes occupy the entrance. Shit fuck hell, they’d forgotten the roommate arrived today. All they can see from where they’re blocked from entering is a white blob of hair on top of baggy clothes, perched on the desk and looking at whatever Matt is playing.

“Uh, I’m supposed to be able to enter my own room,” Mello kind of yells. Only kind of. “Would you please not be a giant stupid bother before I even get your name ?”

“Sorry,” the snowball says, not looking sorry at all. “I’m Nate River.”

“But you can call him Near ! He plays retro games, which isn’t… let’s say it’s not my strong point, but I’m sure it’ll go well, we’re three whole weirdos with weirdo nicknames !”

Mello blinks. Near is still here. They blink again. Near is still here, looking a little like a frog with his lopsided smile, a hand playing with one of his curls. Mello blinks a third time and doesn’t expect Near to have packed his things and go, but that was a close call.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” they mutter. “Lawliet is gonna get killed.”

“You actually know enough about criminology to not be caught, so go you.” Near is smirking. Mello wants to cry. “But I would advise against it, because he’s dating that twink Light Yagami, the alumni who came last week to give the presentation about the War on Drugs and its consequences. He’s a police lieutenant now.”

“Called it !” Matt raises a fist in victory, taking five years from Mello’s lifespan. “Anyway, now that you’re here, please do help us with the last boxes. We’ve been setting up Near’s compy and it’s revoltingly difficult.”

“I will not- how can you ask me to- I’m gonna commit arson and this time I promise I’ll succeed !”

“Dramatic bitch,” Matt says jovially. “Just come in and drop your stuff, apparently someone from the ADA thing comes tomorrow to make sure the room is accessible with a crutch and to help Near settle in.”

Mello just now notices that Near isn’t fully standing up - he’s propped on the desk, a mechanical knee peeking through the bottom of his shorts. This changes nothing - though Mello feels the both grim and hopeful sense of community that disabled people get when they meet. Their ear still works wonky and their eye ? Not the sharpest either. Without talking about all the skin damage, the phantom pain, the- hell no, they won’t get into “reflective mode” without having eaten dinner first.

Reluctantly, Mello spends the rest of the evening avoiding Near as Matt and them help him settle in, surprised by the small amount of belongings he actually has - most of the boxes he brought are board games and hundreds of little kapla sticks. Is Near planning to recreate the Golden Bridge ? He looks like a nerd, maybe it’ll be the Death Star.

Routines are a persistent thing, and before they know it, Near has managed to get a small space - small, they insist - in Mello’s well-oiled machinery. He eats breakfast with Matt, a meal that Mello forgoes entirely, and he goes on unfortunate walks to his PT appointments, because he’s out of money from whatever government organism gives benefits to disabled people and can’t afford a cab. Mello thinks they should get into it a little more, maybe call their case worker, because ramen tastes worse and worse when you have it for every meal of the week. And then Near and Matt start talking about something or another, especially topics that annoy Mello, or Near gets a little too close to them while they both work on their assignments at their desk, his elbow barely brushing Mello’s side. It makes them shiver, but they will ignore that, thank you very much.

Another routine - bedtime - has gotten a little different. One single bed is enough for “one person and a half”, according to Matt, so the obvious solution to them being three in a two single beds room is to push the beds together.

“And now you have a perfect three people beddery !” Matt triumphantly declared. “Mello, you sleep in the middle.”

“Why am I in the middle ?” they protested. “It’s the least comfortable !”

“Oh well, we can take turns,” Near had snarked, knowing full well that the first one of them to sleep in the middle would have to accept defeat.

Mello does end up in the middle, Matt cuddled against their left side where the burn is, and Near an ever-closer presence against their right arm. It’s not as uncomfortable as they expected. Near doesn’t snore and he smells like minty toothpaste, a strangely comforting scent that lulls Mello to sleep way more easily than the five thousand melatonin pills they take before going to bed.

Oh well, maybe Lawliet can live a little longer. His boyfriend - Matt saw them kissing through the peephole, it’s official now - won’t have any (more) reasons to put Mello behind bars.

Near gets on top of International Law and keeps wearing strangely baggy clothes everywhere - or well, everywhere but in the dorms. Mello has time to get used to that mechanical knee, even asking a few questions about phantom pains on the days Matt is away and the itching gets unmanageable. Near is quiet like snow but they’re nothing alike in warmth, grey eyes like molten metal setting on Mello’s face and crinkling in a smile.

And it works wonders. One time they get a bad mark (for their standards) and they even study with Near for extra credit, a presentation about the death penalty that lasts about three quarters of the two hours class. The teacher gives them both full marks and Matt celebrates by crushing them both against his chest, the smell of motor oil and mint so comforting that Mello closes his eyes, just for a little while.

It’s winter before they have time to think about it, and finals go by in a blur of “no sleep, no food, no distractions”. They even manage to end up at the nurse’s office when they faint during the Criminology Theory exam, forced to drink sugar water until the world stops exploding in a million tiny stars when they move their head.

Mello thinks that surviving their last winter exam session ever - they should be able to find a job with a double Master’s degree in Criminology and Creative writing, right ? - deserves a celebratory nap and they sprawl on the bed as soon as they’re back from the last stupid oral presentation they have to do about stupid Foundations of Criminal Justice. Near is not in the room - which is weird, because he finished five minutes and thirty six seconds before them - and Matt is away for the day to try and get his internship at the garage, so they have the full three-person bed, and they fully intend to enjoy the luxury.

They enjoy it so much that they fall asleep, only noticing that time has passed because before they blinked, it was day, and it is now very much nighttime. Light giggles fill the room along with the muted light from Near’s bedside lamp, and Mello takes the time to relish in the quiet atmosphere. Hushed conversation rises from near the desk, giggles and the smell of hot chocolate both making Mello sit up at last.

“Lookit you ! Sleeping beauty arises. Though I haven’t kissed you yet,” Matt smiles, and he climbs on the bed to press his lips against Mello’s. “Love you,” he whispers as he pulls away and goes back to slump on Near’s shoulder.

At first, Near felt like an intruder each time Matt kissed them, but he’s become so embedded in their life that Mello doesn’t feel any awkwardness anymore - to the point where not including him has become the cause of their inner turmoil.

Because yeah, uh, there’s that. Near in a tank top and booty shorts, prosthetic being painted on by a very enthusiastic Matt, has become the new image they conjure up each time the need to strangle someone arises. And poof, instant peace. Discreet touches, Near sleeping fully cuddled against their right side now, Matt nosing through Near’s hair just after he’s washed it because his strawberry shampoo smells divine, Mello even going as far as ruffling Near’s hair without warning, just to see his little nose scrunch up… All that has become routine too, and suddenly the change is too big to go by unmentioned. 

They’ve managed to hold on to their feelings until then but as Matt starts talking again, Near’s smile is a little too tight - though his eyes sparkle, it’s like… something’s missing. 

“Emergency mee-ee-ting,” they yawn, the skin around their left eye crinkling up painfully. Near notices and doesn’t even ask before grabbing the petroleum jelly tube and throwing it rather inaccurately at their face. See, that’s what they were talking about, Near has just become… there, in the way Matt is there even when he’s asleep in another part of the universe where Mello can only hope to ever go to. “We gotta talk shit out.”

“Are you over your gay crisis yet ?” Matt asks, eyes calm and open, sipping hot chocolate with noisy slurps that Mello doesn’t bother mentioning anymore. His green hair looks more and more red as time passes, which is a strange feat of hair dye conspiracy. “Can we go back to playing ?”

“I haven’t even talked !” Mello protests. “I just really think it’s necessary to mention that…”

They don’t know how to continue that sentence. Near is looking at them with something strangely akin to hope, and Matt still has that infuriating openness about him like he just knows Mello so well he doesn’t need to be told what they feel. 

Near doesn’t, though, and he matters enough to Mello now for them to want to include him in the little bubble as well.

“I just think it’d be cool if we shared the secret chocolate stash with Near,” is what comes out of their mouth.

Well done caporal, please die of shame now.

“Mels, wow, that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said !” Matt’s voice drips with amusement - devoid of any mean spirit, they should add, because Matt is the one thing Mello knows is good in this world. And well, maybe there’s a second one they’ve stumbled on, and they want Near to know that he means a lot to them too.

“I mean it !” Mello whines. “He’s one of us now. I think we can share.”

“Mello. Please realise that I’ve been flirting with you this entire time,” comes Near’s deadpan answer. “The time I told you I wanted to braid your hair ? The time I made you sleep and finished the presentation alone because you’d gotten the flu and I hate being sneezed on ? The fact that Matt literally sits in my lap half the time, and only half because the other is spent on your lap ?”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off with me getting the flu.”

“You’re avoiding my question.” Near looks stubborn, and it’s a good look on him.

When did Mello start to think Near looks good ? “I, uh. I may be slightly romantically obtuse. Has Matt told you the time when-”

“-he kissed you and you thought he wanted to practice smooches for his secret best friend, because of course you wouldn’t be his best friend ?”

Utterly mortified, Mello can feel their cheeks become bright red. “Well, uh. Enough mushiness for tonight. Just pass me the chocolate, Matt, I’m starving.”

Matt giggles and throws a Kinder Egg at their face. Near munches on the leftover shell while Mello assembles the toy, and it’s peaceful - and happy, too, so when Mello raises a hand to their scar they smile still, in spite of their involuntary shiver.

[aesthbaby]

Because I Love You

Summary: Angst/comfort story. Check out the request for an actual summary

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x gender neutral reader

Request: This one

Warnings: Cursing | fighting

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

She didn’t come home.

She left you a voicemail saying she was sorry but she didn’t come home.

Rationally, you called Penelope and she didn’t really tell you much except that this case really got to Emily. She didn’t say anything on the jet back but everyone knew it really got to her. They had a rule, never take your work home with you. After everything that’s happened with Morgan, Hotch, and JJ the team had made a promise to never take your work home with you. You and Emily don’t have children like they do but it was the same principle, the best way to keep their loved ones safe is to keep them away from their work. You didn’t know that was a rule they made; all you knew was the Emily hardly ever talked about her job and just chalked it up to her being closed off.

You had to hear about the rule from Penelope when you called her all flustered and worried. Apparently Em stayed later than everyone to finish her reports but since she was silent throughout the whole thing everyone was worried. Penelope volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye on her but eventually Emily convinced her she was fine.

So when you called and asked where your girlfriend was, she didn’t know what to say. 

“Emily, baby, please pick up. I know you’re not okay, I mean I know you’re physically fine. I didn’t ask Pen to ping your phone because I know that’s an invasion of privacy but don’t underestimate me Emily Prentiss.”

That’s the 6th voice mail you’ve left for her and now its two in the morning. You’re on the couch eating Twizzlers (mostly just chewing on them because it calms your nerves) while some trashy reality show is playing in the background. When you first moved in together you couldn’t sleep without her next to you. It took some time for you to get used to the empty space in your bed and being woken up by her crawling into bed at late hours. She would snuggle herself under your arm and just listen to your heartbeat after a long day. She always thought you were asleep so you’d play along while she would tell you about her day. Its the most vulnerable she’ll let herself be; although you’d prefer it if she talked to you awake, you’ll take what you can get. Just when it felt like you were settling into a routine, she up and does this. You’d finally gotten her to agree to do an emotion chart with you. As ridiculous as it sounds it was something you used to write in your bullet journal years ago, you bought Emily one so she could do the same. She resisted at first but now she likes doing it (but she’d never admit that). Writing her emotions down has helped her be more open with you.

“I’m sorry y/n but the last time I saw Emily was on my way out of the bullpen, hours ago.” JJ sleepily tells you over the phone. “But I’m sure she’s fine, probably just needed some space after today.”

“Right...well, sorry for waking you up JJ.”

“Oh no, don’t worry its fine. I’m still finishing up some paper work for Henry’s new school. Who knew getting into a private school would take so much work out of you?” She laughs.

“The uhm...The Merit School?” I doubt I’d ever send my child to a school THAT expensive but who knows.

“Yeah, its going to cost us an arm and a leg but its a really great school.”

“I wish you guys the best of luck, and I’m sorry for bothering you so late.”

“Anytime,” Right when you’re about to hang up you hear her call your name. “Take care of Emily for me--for all of us.”

“I will JJ.”

Then you texted Garcia but never hit send because you already feel bad for bugging her earlier.

So you bothered Reid instead. You two have never been close but you do bond over vintage movies every now and then. You practically beg him to break this rule the BAU team has put into effect. The doctor was hesitant to tell you anything but eventually he did after rambling on about something that didn’t make any sense he gave you a brief summary on why he thinks this case may be hitting Emily so hard. “The unsub was the lieutenant for the local cartel who had been killing off his lovers. Those being undercover detectives who he would nicknames his wives. They would have to feign loyalty to him no matter what he did and by the time we arrived he had already executed three of them.”

“Why did he kill them?” You ask not really wanting to know the answer.

“There was a mole in the department. When he found out about them he...uhm...”

“Its okay Spencer, I get it.”

After a moment of silence he says, “Emily’s going to come home to you y/n. She loves you, we can all see it.”

“Thank you Spencer.”

Your concern is slowly morphing into frustration. How could she do this? She knows how worried I get if she simply leaves me on read. If I did something like this, Emily would have my head! Oh and what happened to aLwAyS teLLiNg eAcH oTheR tHe TrUtH?? Guess that doesn’t apply to her huh.

You get up to take a shower but instead you run smack dead into the coffee table. You’ve got to be fu- 

“Oh hi Sergio.” The black cat dances around your legs. I think this cat senses my impending anxiety. “At least you’re here, your  mommy is going to be in trouble when I see her.”

Where the hell are you Emily Prentiss? And like magic you hear the door unlock and open. I’m going to kill her. No no, I am going to give her a stern talking to. You know what? I don’t even feel like arguing--actually I do. “Sergio, hold me back.” Y/n, breathe, you need to empathize and sympathize with her. Or else this could get real ugly, real fast.

So, you sit down in the plush arm chair you begged Emily for when you first got here. She thinks its ugly but eventually she stopped trying to fight you. “Emily. Elizabeth. Prentiss.” You pronunciate each word slowly.

And there she is, white button up shirt tucked into her hundred dollar Express slacks with a double breasted blazer over the whole thing. My baby looks good but I will show no mercy for this behavior. “Hey.” She says casually, like she hasn’t been MIA for hours. “I brought Pad Thai.” She dangles the brown bag while locking all the locks on the door. A total of four, five if you count the alarm system. She goes straight for the kitchen without looking your way. No doubt that’s suspicious. “I couldn’t decide between cheese rangoons or egg rolls so I got us both.” You hear the fridge open and close but you still haven’t seen your girlfriend’s face. “Sorry for not picking up earlier. I needed time to get my head together.”

“Emily.” You almost growl the name. “Please, come and sit down.”

“You know at first I thought I’d get something from that fancy Slovakian place you like but then I remembered how sick I got last time.” She walks straight past you without a glance, into your shared bedroom.

This is unbelievable. “If I have to call your name one more time, Emily there will be hell to pay.” That seems to get her attention. She walks back into the living room but her back is to you and her head is low. Emily’s head never hangs low. “Look at me, Em.” When you’re met with nothing you stand, “Meet me half way Emily. Look me in the eyes.” You walk up to her and gently turn her by her shoulder. Her eyes have a sheer layer of pink over them, she’s not crying but she wants to. “Em...” You let out a brief sigh.

She walks out from under your grasp and heads toward the kitchen again. “Y/n...can we just go to bed? Eat trashy Chinese food like we always do and watch, I don’t know? The Bachelor?”

“You hate that show.”

“I know...”

“But you need something to take your mind off of today...” You nod, you know her too well. She’s silent in that moment. “Em I know this is about Ian Doyle.” Her eyes shoot up to yours. “Don’t be mad but I made Spencer tell me.” She turns to walk away but you grasp her hand, firmly. “You have no right to be upset about that Emily!” You and her hardly argue so the shout that came from your mouth was shocking. “I had to hear from your friend what was going on with you because you tell me nothing!” You’re in tears and it looks as if she feels some level of guilt. “Nothing Emily! I respect your privacy to the best of my abilities but this is where I draw the line.”

“Why do you care?” You look at her in complete disbelief. “Y/n why do you care so much?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me?” You don’t curse much around her (away from her is a different story) so this is how she could tell when you’re really upset. “Are you serious Emily? Why can’t you just open your heart to me? Is it honestly that hard to sit down and have a decent conversation with me?”

“Y/n,” She pauses. “Why do you care about me? Why do you care about any of this?”

“Because I love you! Do you not understand that? I’m constantly worried about you and the main reason has nothing to do with your job. Its because you compartmentalize so well that it feels like I don’t even know you sometimes. I never know if you’re actually okay because you don’t tell me anything! Not knowing what you’re going through hurts like hell.”

“Y/n...Its not what you think. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Emily,” You take both of her hands in yours. “I’m not the one that’s hurt, you are. I know you don’t like to talk about him but baby if you keep this shit bottled up it will destroy you.” Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to say something but nothing comes out. “The victims reminded you of yourself, didn’t they?”

“What? No,” She tries to shrug off your question. “They were detectives. They were young, blonde, and sporty types. That’s not me.”

“They had to pretend to be in love with a drug lord.

“No...”

“They had to pledge allegiance to a man who didn’t think twice about killing them.”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Someone from their own department exposed them and for that they were executed.”

“Stop!” She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t scream. Her voice is broken by the tears welling up in her eyes.

You lay your palm on her cheek and look deep into her brown eyes. “These women were betrayed by the people sworn to protect them. Their lives were taken by a man who called himself their lover.” She starts to cry a little more and you feel bad but this has to come out.

“Stop. Please.” She chokes.

You wrap her in your arms, with her head on your shoulder. “It could have been you...”

“It could have been me...” She repeats after a beat of silence.

“But it wasn’t you.” You just hold onto her until she pulls away.

“Y/n...I’m sorry.” She takes your other hand in hers. 

“Its okay.” You just hold your love like this is the last time you’ll ever meet. She deserves so much more than what this world has given her. She’s worth more than she’ll ever know. “He will never lay a hand on you ever again.”

She looks at you with the saddest eyes, it reminds you of the childhood pictures she’s shown you. “Never.”

“Never.” You repeat. You sniffle a little while wiping your eyes. “Now, did I hear you say you brought Cheese Rangoons?”

She laughs a little at that. “Yeah...about that...”

“What?” Your eyes narrow on her.

“There’s only one left.” You playfully punch her shoulder. “I ate like three in the car.” Its good to hear her laugh after the day she’s had.

“Its okay.” You grab the bag from the fridge and two bottles of water. “Now, you and I are going to eat in bed and talk about your day while Keeping up with the Kardashians plays in the background.”

“But I hate that show.” She wines.

You steal a quick kiss before heading to the bedroom. “I know, we’re just using it as background noise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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