#i swear those two flop every time i see them

[beetrotxo]

vi and jayce bookstreet allegations but its kai and morro

[crushmeeren]

ᝰ ITACHI’S NSFW ALPHABET .ᐟ

̽ ⋆ ﹒♡﹒ Listen… we all knew Itachi would be first out of my naruto versions because he’s my life and I love him, so, yeah. No warnings, Itachi’s super sweet.

master list link

ᝰ A ‣ ‣ AFTERCARE { ༝༝ what is itachi like after sex? ༝༝ }

No doubt about it, Itachi’s a sweetheart. This man loves to relax afterwards, catching his breath, and just exist in the moment with you.

He’ll flop onto his back next to you, searching for your hand in the sheets, and thread them together as he closes his eyes with a soft smile. Itachi hums happily when you roll to tuck yourself into his chest, arm winding around your shoulders to hold you close.

Eventually he’ll untangle from your octopus limbs, being sure to help you get clean enough to sleep or move on with your day. He’ll grab you whatever you want, snacks, a drink, your favorite oversized sleeping shirt. It doesn’t matter what it is, Itachi loves to pamper you.

Itachi himself gets super sleepy after sex, yawning and stretching like a big cat. He naps almost every time, even if it’s only a five minute power nap.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ B ‣ ‣ BODY PART { ༝༝ itachi’s favorite ༝༝ }

Itachi is in love with every single inch of your body, but he’s been drawn to your lips since the beginning. They’re so soft, so cute, and he gets butterflies when you smile at him.

But of course, he enjoys in them in a much filthier manner as well. He loves to kiss, the anticipation before each new press of your lips to his makes him shiver. When your lips close around his fingers and suck, tongue teasing the sensitive pads, he gets dizzy when all the blood from his head rushes to his cock.

Itachi swears he’s been set on fire each and every time you swallow his cock. Sometimes, you worry he doesn’t blink with how intensely he watches you. He never lasts long, not with the way your lips drag up and down his shaft, dick shiny when you pull back. He almost chews through his bottom lip, eyes flashing red as he spills down your throat.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ C ‣ ‣ CUM { ༝༝ where does itachi like to cum? ༝༝ }

Just the thought of cumming down your throat drives him wild. His eyes will roll to the back of his head when your tight throat squeezes him, forcing him over the edge with your nose buried into his pelvis.

His cheeks always turn scarlet when you tell him to paint your face. You’ll free his cock with a soft pop, sticking your tongue out with heavy lidded eyes. Itachi’s breath catches in his throat, hand a blur up and down his dick, and his next moan pitches higher as he covers your tongue, your chin, and most importantly, your lips.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ E ‣ ‣ EXPERIENCE { ༝༝ how much does itachi have? ༝༝ }

Itachi was mostly a virgin when you met.

He’d been focused on a multitude of different stressful things throughout his entire life, and sex had never managed to land anywhere on his priority list. He’d had the urge, of course, but he wore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Consequently his desire for sex never lingered for long.

He’d….tried to have sex before. He couldn’t seem to get out of his head long enough to stay hard or to eve. enjoy it, really. When he got together with you, it was like colors had suddenly snapped into existence, the world no longer dreary and gray. You opened his eyes, helped Itachi learn and discover things about himself he’d never have known otherwise.

Now, Itachi loves having sex.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ F ‣ ‣ FAVORITE POSITION { ༝༝ itachi’s favorite ༝༝ }

Hands down Itachi’s favorite position is missionary. Or some sort of variant of it.

Itachi likes to crowd in close until you’re breathing the same air, one hand secured at the nape of your neck, the other lacing with yours as he murmurs “keep those eyes on me sweet girl, let me see how good you feel when I make you cum.”

Other times, if Itachi is feeling insatiable, he’ll press one of your thighs close to your chest, fuck you hard and fast, and push two fingers into your mouth. He’ll press down on your tongue and beg you to suck his fingers, unable to decide if he wants to watch himself disappear into your pussy or stare at your lips.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ H ‣ ‣ HAIR { ༝༝ does itachi shave or care? ༝༝ }

Itachi prefers to trim. He’ll shave if he’s in the mood to shape his hair into a certain pattern for you, or if it gets too out of hand, but mostly hair doesn’t bother him.

Itachi enjoys when you have some hair on your pussy instead of being bald. He likes to touch it, kiss it, play with it. He would never tell you what to do with your body, and he loves whatever you do, but even just a little hair on your pussy turns him on.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ I ‣ ‣ INTIMACY { ༝༝ is itachi romantic? ༝༝ }

Is this even up for debate? Itachi is so romantic. He’s so lovey dovey and cute, you never have to worry about his feelings for you.

They say when someone loves you they put in the effort, and Itachi always puts in the effort. This is the man who lit candles the first time you had sex. Who made sure his sheets were clean, that they were warm, and laid out some of his clothing for you to wear afterwards if you wanted it.

He’s the man who, even after all this time, still lights candles. Who still keeps things clean and comfortable for you. Who loves on every part of your body he can get his hands on, rubbing your shoulders, your feet, your back, etc.

If you ask Itachi, often he’ll say he’s making love to you. To him, the intimate way your bodies move together and connect could not be described as something as simple as having sex.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ J ‣ ‣ JERKING OFF { ༝༝ does itachi jerk off? ༝༝ }

Itachi jerks off once every blue moon.

There’s not much appeal in it to him. Yeah, it feels good, but he’s only stroking his cock and thinking about you, missing you more than he already does. His cock still throbs when he’s finished, the quick release never truly satisfying him. His hand pales in comparison to you.

Although, asking Itachi to jerk off in front of you? That he can get behind. He’s gorgeous, body lithe and toned, relaxing on pillows in front of you while he pumps his full, flushed dick. If you tease your fingers up his inner thighs, squeeze his balls a little, he’ll cum so hard it lands on his chin.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ K ‣ ‣ KINKS { ༝༝ what are itachi’s? ༝༝ }

Itachi has an auralism kink.

Nothing turns Itachi on like listening to the sounds you make during sex. When your breath hitches, the little whines and whimpers of his name. He loves when you cry out, warning him that he’s about to make you cum. All of it makes Itachi’s cock ache and his balls draw up tight.

I think Itachi has to bite down on his finger when he starts to fuck you fast, the slick, sticky sound of your skin meeting over and over sending fire down his spine and hurtling him towards his release.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ L ‣ ‣ LOCATION { ༝༝ where itachi likes to have sex ༝༝ }

Itachi, obviously, loves taking you in your bed. But he’ll have you anywhere your heart desires.

Under the hot spray of the shower, with steam curling in the air? Of course. On the couch, riding him until your thighs hurt? Hell yeah. Bent over the kitchen counter? In the backseat of his car? In the locker room at your gym? You bet your fucking ass Itachi will do it if it makes you happy.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ O ‣ ‣ ORAL { ༝༝ itachi’s thoughts on oral sex ༝༝ }

On Itachi’s top five favorite things to do list, eating your pussy ranks high, if not number one.

He loves to drag his tongue through your soft lips, the faint saltiness hitting his taste buds and never failing to make his cock thicken, twitching where it’s trapped between his belly and the sheets. He moans when he eats you out, eyes fluttering shut, begging you to pull his hair and guide his head however you want. His cheeks burn when he sucks on your clit, the sweet whines that fall from your mouth driving him up the wall.

When Itachi gets his dick sucked he never lasts long. You were the first one to give him a blow job, and his cock is so fucking sensitive, he can’t help but cum less than a minute after you start to bob your head.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ Q ‣ ‣ QUICKIES { ༝༝ itachi and quickies ༝༝ }

Sweet boy Itachi has a thing for quickies that are kind of quickies, but not really. For example, one night a few friends were over, you and Itachi both had a few cocktails, and the buzz of the alcohol warmed your belly. Itachi look stupid hot, all glazed eyes and sweet smiles.

You dragged Itachi to the bedroom with the worst possible excuse you could think of, but you spent more time than intended riding him. It was supposed to be a quickie so you could return to your friends without suspicion. Yeah, that didn’t work. Itachi wouldn’t let you go, pouting and begging “Give me one more, my sweet girl. Nobody will notice how long we’ve been gone.”

When you returned to the living room and one friend teased Itachi by informing him his shirt was on backwards, you almost withered away in embarrassment.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ S ‣ ‣ STAMINA { ༝༝ itachi’s stamina ༝༝ }

Itach’s stamina fluctuates. It depends on the situation, on how riled up he is. If he notices that your head’s in the clouds, babbling his name with your eyes rolled back, Itachi can focus and drag it out. He’ll work you through as many orgasms as you want him to pull from you.

If he’s getting a blow job, or if you’ve decided to be the one in charge, Itachi’s entire body is like a live wire. His tip will drip with precum the entire time, and when you tell him to cum for you he cries out and does so on the spot.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ T ‣ ‣ TEASE { ༝༝ does itachi tease you? ༝༝ }

Itachi does like to tease you. But it’s always warm and playful, leaving you chasing away butterflies.

He’ll gaze down at you with a smile so soft, so adoring that your heart jumps into your throat. Your face will flush and you’ll push at his shoulder, asking him if he wants to take a picture because it’ll last longer. Itachi’s low chuckle makes your stomach draw in tight, his sweet smile turning devious.

“Maybe I do want to take a picture,” Itachi would tease, brushing his lips over your cheek, dipping his head to place a kiss to your collarbone. “You’re so fucking hot, I’d love to keep naked pictures of my sweet girl on my phone. I’d get hard every time I see it, and it’d be all your fault.”

You’d know he’s serious because Itachi doesn’t curse often.

He’d go lower and lower, muttering praises into your skin, stopping to suck a hickey into your hipbone, and then he’d eat your pussy until you squirted on his tongue.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

For a request:

Maybe a rescue fic with ghost, price, or soap? One where they rescue their non military fem s/o? I know you’ve written some already and they are so good but I EAT THEM UP EVERY TIME and love that trope so much!!!!!!

Hurt/comfort is my drug I swear

I know that’s pretty vague so maybe I’ll think of more eventually but that’s what I’ve got for now.

I love your writing!

- 🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️

None Lacking Sins

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

Synopsis: It started with the incident at the grocery store and then built to the hidden gun in the nightstand and a quick, frantic, call to your boyfriend.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: Implied stalking, violence & blood, angst, protective Soap, suggestive language and conversations, implications of wanting a kid, vulgar language, fluffy banter, hurt/comfort, canon typical actions, edited in the middle of the night

A/N: I've been in a Soap mood lately, tbh. I think I'm going to flip-flop uploads for my Gaz series and Requests too...anyways. Enjoy, anon! You can never go wrong with a rescue fic!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  

You called him for the first time when you were at the store, picking out dinner and asking what he wanted for a welcome home meal.

“Well,” his sly voice made you roll your eyes, but a smile still blossomed over your lips. “If you want me to be rash, Bonnie, I’d say that I wouldn't mind a good bite out of your–”

“Johnny, you finish that sentence, you’re not going to get anything besides butter on toast. Give me a recipe before it gets dark out.” Veiled glee was obvious from your tone, and the heat on your face could all but be heard over the line. Two months apart had made you both eager to be in each other's presence. 

Picking up a box of pasta, you flip it over and check the price, sticking to your budget and tilting the phone parallel to your chin. A deep chuckle meets your ears, and your chest feels light as it pierces your lungs. 

Your boyfriend was off in Australia this deployment—he’d been complaining about the heat nonstop on those few and far between video calls the two of you shared. While it was a step-up to know where exactly Johnny was this go around, the prospect of his job still made you incredibly nervous. There was never a time you could remember when he came home without a new cut or scar; bruises were all but guaranteed. 

Sucking down a soothing breath, you place the pasta into your cart and fix the phone’s position. The Scot was coming home in a day or so, you wanted to make him feel at home again. Destress.

You’ll see him before you know it. There’s no need to worry.

“Bit snappy, then, eh? Oh, alright.” The man huffs good-heartedly, and you hear the springs of those thin barracks-bed mattresses as his large frame shifts. Johnny lets off a soft sigh before continuing. You listen intently, leaning onto the handlebar ahead of you. “What about a nice plate ‘O that one you always make—hell—the…the one with the Pollock and cabbage.”

You blink through a laugh, shaking your head and pushing yourself off to go find the needed ingredients. The dish wasn’t easy to make, in fact, it took a helluva lot of time, but you didn’t mind in the slightest when it came to cooking for Johnny. He deserved it. 

“Hey, now,” He teases, smirking to himself, “What’s so funny over there, Dearie? You makin’ fun of me?”

“I would never dream of it, oh great and wondrous, Mr. MacTavish!” You huff, fake serious, as you place a box of cookies into the cart and pass a few strangers who raise an eyebrow at your conversation. A man passes by with a blue cap on, and you swerve the cart to move around him while tossing back a frown. You soon continue on like nothing happened, pulling back the sense of security from the man over the line. “Do you want mashed potatoes with that as well? Wine?”

Johnny groans, “Hey, you’re the one that asked me!” 

Divulging into giggles, you make your way around the store and stock up, holding a light conversation about how he and the rest of the boys were doing. 

“Ghost told me to let you know he appreciated the book you lent him, said he’d get it back to ya as soon as he’s able.” The Scot comments, and a hum makes its way from you as you head to the self-checkout. 

“Well, that’s good. I said he would like it – the bastard’s so tight-lipped about what he enjoys it was hard to nail-down a genre.” A chortle sounds off when you gather the chilled pollock and scan it; the phone was held against your shoulder to your ear. “High Fantasy for the win, I guess.” 

“I should get the man to read ‘The Way of Kings’ next time—form a little book club, y’know? Get all the boys in on it like some old ladies.” It was adorable how cute Johnny sounded, like a kid on Christmas. “Stemin’ Jesus, could you picture that, Bonnie?”

“I’d pay to see you pitch that, Dear.” A cheeky tone leaks through. “Price would laugh straight into your face.” 

“Please, the old man doesn’t know how to laugh….He’d just puff cigar smoke in my face and tell me to fuck off.” 

“As I said—I’d pay to see it.” Your boyfriend grumbles under his breath as you place the paper bags into your cart, the contents heavy, and grab your receipt with quick fingers. “Gaz would definitely be in for it, though.”

“I don’t doubt that. Anything beats playing cards for weeks straight, aye?” Your hand can finally grip the phone once more, and you sigh contently as the strained position of your neck finally rights itself. 

You’re about to answer but slow your pace with a scrunched look of confusion as you exit. 

Passing through the front doors, you suddenly get a strange sensation in the back of your mind to turn around. The hairs along your arms stand up as a breeze passes the steadily chilling dark sky, but the way the shiver ran down your spine wasn’t due to cold. Lips thinning, you spare a glance over your shoulder and look along the brightly lit grocery store as its windows leave cascading rays of light over the sun-bleached concrete. The black asphalt of the parking lot is hard under your feet.

There are a handful of other patrons at the checkouts—mothers with children and others buying quick meals for dinner—but none are out of the ordinary. 

You huff and roll your shoulders.

Maybe the day’s just getting to me.

“Bonnie,” Johnny’s slightly concerned voice brings you blinking back, turning your head back to the sparsely lit parking lot and realizing you had stopped walking completely. Your hand was sweaty like you’d just run somewhere. Fixing your hold on the device, your boyfriend continues, “...Everything alright? You’ve gone all quiet over there.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you laugh dismissively, trudging forward to your car, “I just got the weirdest feeling right outside the grocery store.” 

The cart makes a loud rumbling sound as it goes over loose rocks and the bumpy texture of the asphalt, the metal rattling loudly so you have to strain your ears to hear Johnny’s next words. 

“What kind of feeling?” His drowned-out voice was so serious that it shocked you—you’d only ever heard him use a tone like this when he had briefly talked about nightmares that had woken him up in your shared bed. 

The Scot’s words were monotone, slow, and even if the sound of the cart’s wheels was raging all around you and making your skull rattle, you’d still swear you would identify that tone over a hurricane. It made your gut churn. 

“Really, it’s probably nothing,” you play off with a tense shrug he can’t see, coming to a stop at your car and reaching into your pocket for your keys. “I just got a chill.” 

Your eyes look around before you open the trunk, biting into your lip at the long shadows that the tall street lamps give off. Licking over your teeth, you bink dismissively and shake your head, unlocking the vehicle and huffing as you begin loading in your purchases. 

“Anyways,” you try to ignore the hard build of your spine or the way your eyes travel back to the brightly lit store. There wasn’t anyone out here but you and the dead forms of cars, trees off in the distance, and far-off lights of other buildings. You swallow and clear your throat. “I was thinking about getting us a dog.” 

“You’re not gettin’ out of this that—wait, did you say dog?” Across the world in a shitty bed, Johnny’s once concerned eyes widen, jaw going slack. “No way in Christ’s Hell, Dearie.”

“Oh, come on!” You groan, placing the second to last bag into the car and tuning your back to the street, throwing out your hand. “It doesn’t have to be a big dog—just one I can go on walks with and keep me company. I know you have a bad past with them, Love, but I just want someone to help not make the house so empty when you’re gone.” 

Your voice slides off near the end of the sentence, and you try not to sound so sullen. Johnny frowns as he stares into the far wall of the barracks over the heads of sleeping men, itching at the back of his neck. It was no secret that the Scot wasn’t particularly fond of canines—his encounters with them were almost never pleasant unless he knew the handler. 

But…

“I’ll think it over, eh, Bonnie?” He relents, sighing, and he thinks he hears snickers from a dark form in the distant corner. The Sergeant glares over at it and continues with a pang of internal guilt about how lonely you must feel most of the time. “Promise…but you’re more likely to get a cat dressed in a suit than a mangy mutt anytime soon.” 

You laugh at the attempt of a lighthearted joke, closing the trunk with a roll of your eyes. A breeze goes by and your arms erupt into shivers, clothes not enough to keep out the chill. 

“I’ll take it.” 

“Hm, you know,” Johnny smirks, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes and grunting out huskily, “there’s another way to make sure the house won’t be all quiet when I’m gone.”

“Keep it in your pants, MacTavish. You’re not even here yet.” Smiling through the heat of your cheeks, the skin of your cheeks glows; your body rolls with heat. “Save it for tomorrow.”

“What, am I gettin’ you all worked up over there?” He hums, and you grab your cart, pushing it into one of the specific areas where someone would grab it in the morning. “‘Cause I have no problem with waitin’, Dearie, all the more perfect when I get to be with ya.’”

“You wish, handsome.” Walking back to the slight rumbling of your car, you speak through tilted lips and completely miss the form walking up beside you. “I think that—”

“Excuse me?” 

Yelping, you nearly drop your phone to the floor as it slips out of your startled grip; heart jerking at the sudden intrusion into an intimate conversation. Swiftly turning around you spot the same man as before—the one with the blue cap that had passed by quite rudely in the store. His strong face looks sheepish.

Johnny quickly calls your name through the line, and you let off a reassurance before tilting the device down.

“Holy hell, man, give a girl a warning next time, yeah?” Chuckling weakly to push back tension and the twisting of your intestines, you notice the stranger’s tall frame is covered in a heavy jacket. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, actually,” He’s not outwardly alarming to look at, the man, with his loose body gestures and controlled tone. “Sorry, but I was just wondering if you could lend me a hand. I found a kitten under a van back there,” he points, and you look over to the far corner of the parking lot. Sure enough, there was a large van surrounded by two black cars. Your eyes narrow on the scene, already getting a prickly feeling. “Do you have any food that might bring it out? Or maybe you’d be willing to reach under and grab the little bastard?” 

The stranger laughs and continues with a jerking of his shoulders. You watch every movement with an upticking pulse, fingers tight over the phone as Johnny listens with growing worry. 

The Sergeant's dark eyebrows pull tight, and he stands like he could run out the door to you; jaw tight and muscles wound.

“Put me on speaker.” You decline silently. Better not to get a hotheaded and protective Scot involved when he was thousands of miles away.

“Sorry,” Clearing your throat, you take a step back, attempting a friendly smile. “I have to get home to my husband.” It wasn’t the first time you’d had to use the spouse card to get away from creeps, and it won't be the last. Worked better than just the boyfriend title, honestly. And there was something about this man’s eyes that didn’t sit right with you. “Work night and all, you understand?”

“He left yet?” Johnny asks, gruff as his accent gets stronger. “Else I’m callin’ the store and sending security out to you.” 

“It shouldn’t take a long time,” the man begs and you take another slow step back to the car door, pupils going tiny. Breaths shallow. “You’ll be back to your…husband, in a few minutes. I’d hate to leave the poor guy all alone.” 

“Sorry.” You say again, firmer. “No.” 

Not wasting any time, you open the car and jump inside, wrenching it closed once more and pressing the lock. Breathing heavily, you stick the keys into the ignition, missing a couple of times, and look into the side mirrors to spy on the tall shadow that hovers like a plague. 

“Sweetheart? Hey?” Johnny calls out your name as you force the car to start driving away, face tight and limbs shaking. “Hey, are you alright?” 

The man has half the sense to wake up Price, but with the stirring bodies around him, there’s half a chance the Captain already knows something’s off. Johnny hadn’t bothered to check his noise level when the uncomfortableness seeped from you over to him. What kind of a man approaches a woman near dark and asks a question like that? The action didn’t sit right with the Scot. 

Johnny’s body hums with energy—volatile rage keeps his heart in a tight fist with a deep seething hatred of not being with you to help force back the freaks in person. He wasn’t above getting into someone's face if the situation called for it; after a couple of outings to less-than-nice pubs, all it took was a few nervous glances from you nowadays for him to create a barrier out of his own flesh.

“I’m okay,” you whisper to him, biting at your lips and peeling back flesh. “It’s all good. I-I’m on the road already.” 

A great weight falls from the man in the form of a sigh. He slowly sits back down on the mattress, lips thinning and slightly shaking his head. His free hand comes up to rub over his cheek. 

“Good. That’s good…” He snaps out of his concerned stupor quickly, but the fast beating of his heart does anything but slow. “You’re okay.” 

It wasn’t worded as a question, maybe more of a reassurance, but it helped you immensely. Your tension lessened at the comforting sound of Scottish drawl and deep, silver, voice. But you wanted him to wrap his arms around you; gaze into those cerulean orbs.

Tomorrow.

“Keep on the line until I get home?” You ask feebly, not able to resist looking in the mirrors as you turn out of the parking lot. 

The blue-capped stranger was still standing there, and one of the black cars in the far corner had turned its headlights on. A deep dread overtakes your ribs like you’d just gotten out of something very, very, bad. A sense of a lingering morality stays in between your ribs.

“‘Course. Wouldn’t be doin’ anything else, Bonnie.” Johnny utters, glaring at the floor. “I’ll be ‘ere the whole time.”

It wasn’t fair that he was unable to be there with you—never before had the constraints from his job hit him full strength in the chest like this. If he can’t protect the ones he loves back on the home field, then what was the point of the Task Force in the first place? 

By the time you get home after taking the fastest route, you quickly gather everything from the back and shuffle inside, pulse still racing. You lock the door behind you and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. 

Johnny’s soft breath over the call was like a lullaby, right in your ear as if he was beside you in bed. Oh, you missed his soft snores more than anything. Your gaze goes glossy, but the tears are held back stubbornly. 

As if sensing your turmoil, your boyfriend speaks lowly. 

“Y’know, I bet the rest of the boys would really love it if we kept ‘em over for a drink and a bite when we all get back. I can whip up something quick on the grill and you can take a breather, eh?” He speaks so softly it almost makes the tears worse, heart palpitating. 

You wetly laugh and place a hand to your mouth, standing in the dark foyer with groceries on the floor and a primal fear slowly leaving you. The familiar scents of charcoal and birch wood from the Scots hair product are stuck into the very walls of this shared dwelling, along with the scuffs on the floor from play-wrestling during movies; a light that needed to be replaced due to Johnny accidentally running straight into it at two am. He had thought an intruder had broken in, but it was just a bird that had snuck in through an open window.

The signs of a well-lived and loved home. 

“But you wanted pollock,” you grumble with a hidden smile and burning ears, pushing the tip of your shoe into the front rug.

Johnny beams and goes to lie back down, putting a hand behind his head against the pillow.

“Well, now I’m makin’ burgers. Guess you’re just going to have to sit back and watch my fabulous arse from the porch, yeah, Dearie? Don’t burn a hole into them, now, they’re the only pair I’ve got, and I know how much you like ‘em.”

“Shut up.” 

“I’ll even wear that apron you got me—what was it you said it did,” the cheeky Scot smirks, all teeth and crinkled eyelids, and hears your complaints get louder as your mind flies away from what had happened almost immediately. “Made me look like I should be in a porno? Hell, if you were in it with me, I’d not complain ‘bout it. Steamin’ Jesus, I’d let you do horrible things to me, Dearie.”

From somewhere in the barracks a low groan echoes out and Johnny snaps his hand down to stifle his loud laughter as you bark at him. 

“MacTavish!” 

Great bouts of laughter leave everyone glaring from atop pillows and from over fingers stuffed into ears; some even get up and gather blankets, leaving the barracks room entirely.

In your foyer, your body blazes with heat like you’d been set on fire, a hand placed over your eyes and a treacherous grin on your mouth. 

“Keep your voice down, you absolute arsepiece!”

“Aye—! That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya!” 

“Johnny!”

—

The second time you called him was out of pure curiosity, only a few hours before your lover was scheduled to come home and cook for you and his Task Force. Around six o'clock. 

“When was our postbox all scratched up?” Your thumb runs over the black numbers of the sequence, blinking with wrinkled skin as you take a glance at the neighbors’ and frown. No one else's was like that. “I thought you said you compromised with the local kids and would give them money for sweets so they would stop messing with our stuff?” 

“Little fiends were sucking me dry!” Johnny huffs, “No way the devils would pass up more sugar and do something like that. What’s it look like, then? A few stray rocks manage to dent it?”

Your lips release a sigh and you pick up your mail with an annoyed grunt, closing and locking the cubby as you reply. “No way, it looks like someone took a knife to it.” Clicking your tongue, you shake your head. “God, things have just been going wrong lately.”

Shuffling his feet over the tarmac and hearing the plane engines die down behind him, Johnny takes a glance back. Price was standing at the top of the C17 arms crossed and head tilted—the Scot could imagine the raised eyebrow almost immediately. 

He grimaces and holds up a finger, walking a few more steps away as Gaz leaves the hull with his bags slung over his shoulders. 

“I can’t talk any longer, Bonnie, Price’ll wring me for not helpin’ unload the gear. He’s damn near skinnin’ me already.”

You chuckle, “Tell him I said ‘hello’ and not to damage the face.” 

“Oh, you’re a horror, you are, Dearie.” 

Quick declarations of love and see you soons were exchanged before the connection was cut, and your feet carried you back into the house. Your phone and the mail went to sit on the tiny hallways table, shoes tossed onto the plastic mat sitting on the floor with a small thump. 

Sighing, you rub over your eyes, thinking over if it was worth calling the post office or just trying to fix the scratches yourself. 

“I think we have some paint in the garage…” You trail off. 

Ultimately, you just pushed that to the back burner. Johnny was coming home. Your lips peeled into a large smile, and you’re rushing off to get into a nice outfit for the rest of Task Force who was coming a bit later than your boyfriend. Thoughts of finally being able to be picked up by your boyfriend's strong arms were all-consuming, being held into a broad chest and digging your nails to the dip of his spine. 

Just being able to be around the mohawked-man was a blessing that you’d never take for granted. 

You settled on a nice top and casual pants—you’d met the others before, so there was no need to go overboard. Smoothing your clothes down, you enter the living room and go to open the curtains, letting the light of the interior spread to the small lawn and the street. Humming under your breath, the vehicle outside doesn’t catch your attention immediately; the black metal is just another parked entity sitting still. 

When you do pause, your curtains half-opened, the delayed shock makes you lose precious time as you stare slack-jawed at one of the twin cars from yesterday at the parking lot. Your fingers clench into the fabric in a sudden moment of frozen shock. As if a mythical creature had just run past your field of view, the parting of your lips is instinctual before the widening of your eyes. 

A still second passes before you’re sprinting to the front door—locking it and snatching your phone. Heart pounding, you make a dash to the bedroom, dialing Johnny with fear-tight pupils. 

He had told you if there was ever an emergency to call him right away, he’d get there faster than any police officer; for the record, you believed that wholeheartedly. Johnny was more loyal than a dog in a pack, once someone raised the alarm the Sergeant was locked in. 

Rushing into the bedroom, you trip over the tossed covers but right yourself as the dialing tone sounds out, heavy breathing making your lungs hurt. You open the nightstand table and dig under a collection of books, hand meeting the smooth metal of an M9 pistol. 

Putting the phone on speaker, you throw it onto the mattress.

Legally, you shouldn’t even have this—while Johnny had been teaching you to shoot, you didn’t have a license for it yet. But he’d insisted on leaving you behind with something to defend yourself with.

The confused voice of your lover sounds over the open space. “Jesus, Bonnie, you miss me that much? It cannae ‘ave been more than ten minutes—”

“The car from yesterday is outside the house.” You throw the books to the floor and hear them make a clatter just as you pull out a box of ammunition. Taking out the gun’s magazine, you load bullets with a violently shaking hand. Some hit the ground with a metallic ping, but you pay little attention, just blinking back anxious tears and a harsh focus on the sounds of the front door handle being jimmied.

“I…what?” Johnny’s voice gets heavier, demanding with a snarl trapped in the back of his throat. 

Standing stationary in the doorway Base—about a twenty-minute drive from home, the man’s heart suddenly jumps in his breast. Did he hear you right? Behind him, Ghost slows to a stop at the now blocked opening, watching with narrowed eyes; a large rifle slung over his shoulder and a carry bag in his arm. Johnny’s shoulders wind tight, feet parted as he suddenly turns on his heels and takes off back the way he came in, the phone still at his ear where the Lieutenant knew you were on the call.

“What the fuck?!” Ghost’s skeletal head follows after and pointedly notices the Scots lack of care for how his bags hit the ground but keeps the pistol holstered at his thigh and the combat knife strapped to his upper shoulder. 

“Johnny?” He calls out, but only the wind answers him. “The hell are you off to?!” The gargantuan man sends a glance over to Price who was watching just as intently, lids narrowed. Gaz cleared his throat.

“....Shouldn’t we follow him? Sounds pretty serious.” 

Price sighs, taking a moment to watch Soap sprint to the main building and shove past other soldiers and staff. He grunts.

“Move light.” 

The phone call was filled with heavy breathing and hurried orders. 

Your boyfriend was running you down the basics of firing at a moving target as the sound of pounding at the front door became more hurried.

“It’s not like a stationary target—when someone’s runnin’ at ya, they're gonna be moving quick and you’re not going to be able to fire if you don’t mean it!” 

“Okay, okay,” you mutter with a shaky inhalation, loading the M9’s magazine and clicking off the safety. “What the hell do they want with me?” The whispered question is more for you than it is for anyone else, but the answer from the sprinting Scot startles you. 

At that exact moment, the pounding of a fist stops completely.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna fire at the first bastard that comes down that hallway. We’ll ask the questions later.” You hear a car door opening and a yell from Johnny’s side, soon the clammer of grunting breaths an exclamation of ‘hurry the fuck up!’

“I—”

“If you need to, leave through the window and go to the neighbors. Take cover in the foliage and slip away to the back alley.” Johnny never spoke like this to you—clipped and deathly serious. But now that you think about it, as you stay frozen and barricaded in the bedroom, if he spoke any differently you’d probably break down. “Do you copy?”

This was Sergeant MacTavish, and damn him if anything came between that man and the people he cared about. 

He barks your name, “Do you copy?!” 

“Yeah,” the gun shakes in your grip, but nonetheless you hold it at your hip and turn your eyes to the window. It would be easier to leave, you think. You’re not trained for this! “I–I think I’m going to—”

The front door’s window is broken with a shattering of glass. You rush to the phone and turn off the speaker, afraid that the sound would immediately tell these people where you were. Loud shouts flow into the foyer and spread like venom under the crack of the thin barrier separating you and the intruders. 

“Spread out and find her!”

“Yes, Sir!” 

Sir? You ask, eyes snapping this way and that as Johnny is dead silent on the other side. You think you hear the slam of a foot to the pedal, but you can’t be sure. Fuck, there was so much going on, you didn’t know what to do.

“Screw this, I’m going out the fucking window.” You gasp out, lungs tight and skin sweaty, you turn on the safety on the gun and stuff it into your belt. 

One-handed, you unlatch the lock and strain your ears, hearing feet getting closer. Grunting, you shove the heavy frame up and try to stop the ringing in your ears. Whoever these people in your house were—they were professionals. They had patience; studied your intellect with the trick in the parking lot and followed you home so they could mark your postbox number as a reminder of your address. What the hell was happening? 

Just as you’re about to make the small drop into the flower bed, a creak echoes from behind the bedroom door. You freeze in place, one foot dangling into the backyard. 

Breathing slowly, your eyes lock to the deep shadow that spreads like two distorted poles as the large feet face the very place you’d holed up. As delicately as you’re able with an award-setting tremor in your gut, you place the phone down onto the window sill; Johnny’s loud and worried voice dims as all attention moves to self-preservation. You’re just about to reach for your gun when the door busts off its hinges. 

Starling, and before your hands can find purchase, you’re tumbling backward—out of the house entirely with a stifled shout of alarm. Slamming to the ground and crushing flowers in the process, you have no time to think about the pain going up your spine or at the base of your skull before you’re scrambling for the M9. 

Just as someone peeks out from the window, face covered and holding an assault rifle, you’re firing three shots in rapid succession as you don’t even remember flicking off the safety. 

Two shots miss entirely, but on the last and final press of the trigger, as your arms catch the recoil, it connects. 

A comment is cut short as blood explodes in a great wave of velocity, coating the house upwards almost to the shingled roof. The body slumps, weight bringing it down to hang limp over the frame.

Wide-eyed, you still hold the shaking gun in the air, muzzle smoking, breathing fast through your mouth. Had you just…

Your stomach bunched, acid traveling up your throat to pool under your tongue. Perhaps you would have thrown up at that moment, the setting reality that you’d just shot someone in the head like an anvil in your pounding skull. But the barking voices from inside the house snap you back. 

Gasping down the breaths you realized you hadn’t been taking, your wobbly feet dart to shove you up like a newborn deer as sprinting bodies close in on the porch’s sliding door. God, you could only imagine what Johnny was thinking. 

Bolting out of your backyard fence, you remember your lover’s orders and run as fast as you’re able to the neighbor's open yard, using the darkening sky to help cover you. Cursing under your breath and thinking over all of the ways this should have already gone wrong, you wipe at the tears cascading down your cheeks. 

Don’t think about it—just get away.

It wasn’t long before you were down the alleyway, feet weak and lungs burning. There was a stickiness to the back of your scalp, blood, undoubtedly, from an injury caused by the fall.

It’s a damn miracle I didn’t break anything. 

What would you have done then? Just let those people take or kill you? You shiver at the idea and force yourself to go faster. Darting around a corner, your feet skid to a quick halt. 

The barrel of a gun was pointed directly at your face. 

“Had a feeling you’d be slippery.” It was the voice of the man from the parking lot—the man with the blue cap. Your face jerks to an imitation of confined horror and unease at the same eyes boring into you. He was dressed in gear like the rest of the men now exiting your house to hunt you down. The stranger shifts his feet and you flinch. “Drop the gun, Sweetheart.” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You find your voice, hissing out. The pistol clatters to the floor as it slips from your grip and you hate how you flinch at the sound. 

“Your boyfriend and his buddies are hard to track down.” Blue Cap huffs, and the tall stature of the man makes you incredibly nervous. Backing up a step instinctually, he follows and smirks. “But I figured the best way to meet him was to find his little bird first—he’d come right to me. Cliche, I know, but you can’t fault me. Works every time.” 

What did this guy want with your Johnny? Gritting your teeth, your fingers shake at your sides, hips tense and ready to run.

“He’ll kill you.” You level, not keen to show this man how disgusting you felt being near him. 

He shuffles up next to you, grabbing the meat of your arm. Trying to jerk away, the barrel of his weapon is shoved into your ribs; gasping, your body goes rigid.

If your heart goes any faster, it’ll break.

“Not if I threaten to kill you first.” Forcing you forward, you glare and feel the urge to spit in the man’s face. “C’mon, hun.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, freak.” 

“Ooo…fangs. Can’t be surprised, you did shoot one of my men, after all. Not a bad trigger finger, but you do need decent work on your accuracy if you wanna make anything out of it.��� Your eyebrows pull in as you’re corralled back out of the alleyway, barrel bruising your skin and blood dripping down your neck. The man’s grip hurts as a strangled whimper falls from your bitten lips. 

Feet scraping over concrete, you’re brought out into the street as neighbors peak out of windows with drawn curtains; phones to their faces. Did these intruders not care about the police? If anything, that made you sweat more. 

“Ride’s waiting.” 

“I’m not getting into that.” Grunting, your eyes are stuck on the black void of the car parked in the street. A menagerie of other armed men stands all over. “Hell no—you can just shoot me now if that’s the case.”

“Don’t tempt me, I can still go after the Sergeant’s dear old mom,” your lungs chill as the man chuckles to himself, looking down at you through dark lashes. “He has a cousin, too, am I right?” 

Rageful tears spark behind your lids as you blink. 

No way it was going to go like this. Where’s Johnny? 

The gun was taken from your ribs as you’re shoved forward. 

“Get in. Now. We’re already behind schedule.” You stare into the interior and clench your fists, lips quivering but jaw clenched. Your Lover’s voice comes to you, sure of himself and laced with stubbornness. 

If you’re ever in trouble, you wait for me, Dearie. I’ll be there ‘fore you know it, ready to defend your honor like the knight in shinin’ armor I am, eh? Why are you laughing…?

Turning back around with every ounce of courage you can muster, you splay your feet and cross your arms.

“No.” The gun is raised to your head, and you want to flinch back in terror but restrain yourself. 

“Get in.” 

“No.” How your voice wasn’t breaking was a question in and of itself, but Johnny had always said you were stubborn like him. Best time to prove him right was with a barrel to your face, apparently.

The stranger’s eyes light with anger, hands clenching over the body of the weapon as the rest of his men stare on in shock. A growl meets air.

“I’m not asking for a third time, Sweetheart—” One loud boom later and you’re ducking down with your hands over your head, ears ringing and body unsteady; a great weight hits the ground right next to you.

The sound of gunfire rattles the world all around the once quiet street, and you think that you and your Lover will have to move after this. No way the neighbors could let all this slide. Looking up, your eyes jump from the corpse spasming near you to the running men, chaos breeding in the lines between shouts and dropping bodies. 

A hand latches into your waist, and you’re being lifted into strong arms moments later. Squealing, your head snaps to the size and meets cerulean blue inlaid in a strong brow line. 

“I’ve got ya.” Your body loses all tension at the accent that you would know anywhere, even in death, a strong grip picking you up and keeping you close to his broad chest. 

Johnny carries you away in the midst of battle as the rest of the 141 get involved, making quick work of the remaining men. Breathing in his scent, you force your face under his chin, feeling the stubble scrape as your fingers dig into flesh. 

He’s here. He’s—he’s right here.

“Don’t worry, Dearie, I’m right here. It’s nearly over, now.” You try to bring him closer as he takes cover behind a wall, pressing his shoulders against the grating stone as he shields you closer to him. Sliding down to the ground.

His eyes snap back and forth, heart rapid. God, he was nearly too late. Johnny presses his nose into your hair as he breathes deeply, watching bodies fall and feeling you shake. Feeling you shiver; now finally able to let everything sink in. 

“Shh,” the Scot mutters, pressing you closer as you whisper his name in a hoarse breath. “You’re alright. I’m ‘ere, Bonnie, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His hands filter over your skin, checking for injuries and feeling over growing bumps from under-the-skin abrasions.

His teeth clench together in hate, hotheadedness taking over for a moment as part of him wants to rush out and pick a few of these bastards off himself. But it’s just not that simple. 

Looking out into the street with serious eyes, the radio attached to his vest sounds off as the last of the firefight ends almost as quickly as it began. 

“Clear.” It was Price. “How is she?” 

Johnny sighs, looking down at you in his hold as he whispers comforting words in quick succession.

“Shaken, but alright…” The reply is muttered as you sniffle, your fingers going to wipe away tears. “She’s—she’s alright.”

Johnny beats you to it as he tries to calm down, large digits tilting your head to the side and studying intently as he swipes them away with a firm thumb and a careful frown. 

“Johnny—” Your eyes stay locked on him as the Scot gets rid of any trace of fear or sadness, calluses burning your skin just as they always did. His gaze flickers to you; lips pulling tight. None of you choose to move, too content with being this close to one another and safe, even if the situation was serious. “I…”

You trail, not even knowing what to say as the wetness of your eyes blurs your vision, body hot, and the back of your skull aching. Your hands go to cup his cheeks. It’s all the words he needs. 

Eyes soft, the Sergeant attempts a weak and worried smile. “I’m so proud of you, Dearie, y’know that? So damn proud.” Your lips quirk, a strained laugh echoing out. A finger pokes the side of your nose. “Hey, I’m serious now. Stop your foolin'.” 

Johnny’s fingers run deep circles into your temples as you trace the lines of his cheeks. 

“Shut up.” You huff, straining against a wide smile. It was easy to push all of this behind you when you were looking at him. He made everything better.

“Hm,” He moves forward and presses his lips to your forehead, quickly going to lay kisses all over your face until giggles spill out from the alleyway to the waiting three. 

Gaz smiles to himself, Price grunts lightly, and Ghost gazes off. 

“I’ll just have to prove to my Bonnie Little Lady that she’s a prime piece of work, then, eh? Smarter; more quick than a fuckin’ recon team,” he leans close and you have to try and shove him away playfully when he starts to squish you against him. Your laughter grows as his scratchy chin nuzzles your neck. “And don’t mind me sayin’ now, but a proper fine pair of tits and arse to go along with the brains of ya, Dearie.”

“MacTavish!” you squeal, “I should call your mother up and explain how you speak to me—that’s vulgar! I know for a fact she didn’t teach you that.”

“Teach me? Oh, now, then, no one could teach me a thing when you’re around. Cannae think a bit; better off talkin’ to a pile of stone.” You punch his solid chest and laugh so hard your face hurts, breath fanning against his neck as his roaming praise continues as if his mind was a bag of water punctured by a knife. “I’m always thinkin’ ‘bout you, my Little Bonnie.” 

The last sentence is quietly muttered into your temple, a kiss pressed tight. He pulls back slightly and feels at the dried blood on your locks, fingers separating to find the scalp. Johnny’s chest rattles in a sigh, hand shaking slightly when he sees it. 

He’d also seen the body on the window sill, though he knows not to mention it.

Christ, you’d had to kill someone. 

The prospect of taking a life was easy to the Scot—some days he felt like he had been born and bred to do just that. It became simple. Elementary. Like his mother could memorize a recipe, he could memorize the position of arteries; what shot to take at that instant, and which to wait on based only on past missions that resonated like past lives.

But for you…

Oh, it was never supposed to happen to you.

“Are you alright?” Johnny breaths, humor gone and left with guilt. 

He feels your lips on his raging pulse and lets his eyes close, content to feel you move against him as your head remains in his neck. Shifting his body into a more comfortable position, he cages you in protectively. Never again would he allow this to happen.

“I shot someone.” The man’s lips quivered, heart hurting at the blatant shock in your voice. It hadn’t hit you yet, and, hell, Johnny still remembered his first kill like it was yesterday. It wouldn’t be good when all this calmed down. He’d thrown up for two days straight, himself.

“Aye.” He breathes.

“His blood’s all over the house.”

“It is.”

“Is…is that,” you’re shivering, so he massages your spine soothingly until you find the words. “Is that a good thing?” 

He should say no, tell you that the situation that you’d been put in was never supposed to happen and it was just an unfortunate reality. Death wasn’t a good thing, per se. But the man had broken into your shared home—busted down the bedroom door with the intent of using you as a bargaining chip to get to him. So, to the Scot, the answer is clear.

No one messed with his family and lived.

“Yes.” Taking down the air of a dusty alleyway as sirens wail a street over, you weren't surprised that your boyfriend had managed to get to your home far faster than the police could. He said he always would, didn’t he? 

The bills for the speeding tickets and the running of red lights were going to be atrocious.

“Okay.” Your answer is muttered as you peel back, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s lips. You believed him. Always would. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me.” His bright teeth show off a smile as your mirror. He kisses you heavily on the lips. Whispers against your lips, a promise. A vow. “As long as you put up with me, I’ll always keep you safe.”

“Soap,” Price yells, snapping the two of you out of it. “Get on with it!” 

The Scot raises a shocked brow and smirks down at you as you tilt your head and listen in happy confusion. 

“Y’know, those shots weren't half bad back there. ‘Specially after takin’ a tumble into the flowers.” Your expression freezes in denial as you’re lifted bridal style into the air. Speaking over the calls of police and firemen as they come to the scene, your voice monotones as your legs swing.

“...I missed two out of the three, you dork. That’s failing.” Johnny gapes in mock surprise and you refrain from snorting at the boyish glint in his eyes.

“Jesus, is it really? Hell, you’ll be comin’ for my job in no time, won’t ya? That’s one better than me!” 

You kiss him and feel the grunt through your lips.

TAGS ||

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

WE'RE... WHAT?? ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅

| percy jackson x popstar au

| au masterlist ☽

summary:

warnings: swearing and i think thats just about it!

a/n: part two of the series is out! im procrastinating the shit out of all my other requests so im not ignoring any of you btw!! lets all collectively ignore the fact that gracie like a post that has a lyric from her song (also damn im really just smashing out these fics)

"y/n has officially flitted off to boston!" clarisse announces suddenly from chris's lap.

"huh?" grover's head snaps up. "what do you mean?"

"y/n l/n, she's come to boston for her concerts," clarisse says showing her phone screen.

"you have got to be shitting me," chris says. "this is going to end terribly. seriously? here? boston? percy's gonna shit himself."

"oh really why would you think that?" clarisse drawls. "it's not like they don't like each other, they're like besties!"

"and y'know to make things worse y/n's setlist has been posted for months so we legit could've avoided her," chris sighs.

"yeah well, next time you see percy and he comes home grumbling about a business meeting in boston you deal with it then," grover argues.

"okay all of you shut it, percy's coming inside with luke so shhh," clarisse snaps.

"shh about what?" luke asks settling down on the couch next to grover.

"you'll never believe who's in boston!" grover sing songs. it doesn't take luke very long to work out who and his eyes widen in realisation

"no."

"yes."

"well shit."

"yep."

"we're in for a show."

☾. ⋅

percyjackson

liked by underovergrover, chris.rodriguez, lukecastellan, clarisse.la.rue, the.annabethchase and 1, 402, 385 others

percyjackson hello boston! one non-reschedulable meeting later and here we are...

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underovergrover i expect full compensation for making those pizzas WHICH YOU TOOK CREDIT FOR

percyjackson YOU DID NOT! I MADE HALF OF THOSE - MINE WERE BETTER

clarisse.la.rue no they weren't

percyjackson 🖕🏼

user1 ugh im in love

user2 omggg he's in boston!! so is y/n l/n!! are they following each other around?

user3 PLS I WOULD DIE MAKE THIS A THING

user4 i wonder if he's going to a concert here?? 😏

user5 does anyone else find it weird how his entire friend group follows him around?? no just me? they're just a huge freak show

user6 booooo we dont like haters here

user7 y/n l/n and percy neeeeed to happen rnnnn

user8 YES YES YES

lukecastellan im so ready to be done with this shit and go home

theannabethchase aww is someone feeling homesick?

lukecastellan yes obviously

user8 i. love. him.

☾. ⋅

"see i told you this would happen!" grover screeches, running away from percy who is threatening to castrate him if he doesn't get his phone back.

"i don't care! just give me the damn thing back!"

percy had groaned for two straight minutes when he found out that y/n was in boston this weekend - he had also face planted onto the couch and used some extremely obscene words.

"if it helps at least you'll be leaving on sunday," chris had offered in the midst of his crisis. it didn't help.

so now when grover trips over a fallen pillow - which may or may not be from percy's tantrum but we don't talk about that - and percy wrenches the phone from him a loud - and might grover add overtly girly - scream.

"WHAT THE FUCK? NO! NO NO NO NO!"

his screen is on the article grover had opened with really poorly photoshopped images of percy and y/n walking together. every gossip site/blog has swarmed the photos and circulated them sending the internet into a spiral.

"im fucking done with this grover," percy groans flopping onto the couch. "its a good thing we're leaving tomorrow - we'll be back in new york thats a huge ass city i wont see y/n there again and i can just go into hibernation, let all the rumours die down and be done with this whole shit show."

if only right....

☾. ⋅

☾. ⋅

yn.official

liked by sabrinacarpenter, lia.mandel, gracieabrams and 932, 841 others

yn.official feel like maybe i might go to boston! you were the best audience and im honoured to have performed for you these past two nights! heading home now to rest and recharge for the final shows in new york

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lia.mandel yayy you're finally coming home i missed you 🥺

yn.official bitch please its been like a week

lia.mandel and every second of it has been torture

user1 MOTHERRRR

user2 i think i nearly fainted when she came up on stage i was so happy i coulda died right then-

user3 the lyric makes me so happyyy

user4 ikrr y/n is like the queen of lyrics and the way she sneakily adds them into her posts 🤭

user5 WERE YOU WITH PERCY JACKSON THIS WEEKEND?? 🤨 I NEED TO KNOW

user6 y/n and percy are my dream celebrity ship

user7 they'd be the biggest power couple in history

user8 can you hard launch with percy plss?? i dont care if its fake i just need content to feed my delusions!

☾. ⋅

lia's soft snores fill the plane aggravating the hell out of you. usually you'd find the way she curled up in a ball underneath a blanket and snored quietly to be adorable. but since you're tired, just finished performing a concert and there's a problem with the jet, its grating on your nerves.

you had also been scrolling on twitter, instagram and pinterest, curled up underneath a matching blanket urging something to catch your attention while whatever work was being done on the plane happened.

unfortunately for you the thing that did catch your attention was the dozens of very clearly photoshopped pictures of you and percy walking together on a quiet street in boston.

no way in hell thats real. for one; ew and two; percy was only here for the weekend you were here for the week and you would've had no time to go out in between concerts.

eventually you doze off not realising you're in the air until you're ears pop waking you up to lia grinning mischievously.

"what asshole?"

"you're adorable when you wake up, you know that right?"

"yes i know."

"seriously the cutest human on the planet."

"what do you want lia?"

"a gossip podcast has picked up the subject of you and percy jackson. and the host is saying shit about you."

your eyes widen for a moment. "oh my god what? wow its almost as if i don't care!" ypu give lia a blank look. "this happens every three months lia, i do something and people either love it or hate it. thats the way it goes."

"yeah but this is PERCY JACKSON Y/N! he's gorgeousness personified."

"ugh can i go back to sleep? you can fangirl to me tomorrow when im in bed and pretending to listen."

"im offended." she leans over to place a kiss on your head. "but sleep tight babes, we land in like forty minutes."

shutting your eyes again you drift back to sleep.

only when you wake up do you realise you dreamed of percy...

TAGLIST‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ [if you're name is white it mean i couldn't tag you] @lauptimist, @itzmeme, @mariaaaaaahhhh, @paankhaleyaar, @maybxlle, @lara20aral, @cxp1d, @user-3113s-blog, @pleasingregulus, @avihashearts4lix, @inlovewithmorales, @brokecollegebitch, [if you want to be added just let me know!]

[giggle-guru]

Hey lovelies! Sorry for vanishing, really had to lock in for one of my exams but it’s over now! As an apology, here’s the (delayed) Huskerdust audio! I won’t lie to you, it’s not my best one compared to others I’ve made in the past 😭 the other voice recording I made for Husk I actually made when I had a cold so I could hit the low and gruff voice a lot easier, and the second time around trying to fiddle with pitch was not working and I didn’t have the energy to spend another day recording him. I promise next time he’ll sound much better LOL. Since my next exam isn’t for a few days now, I’m going to get back on writing. I’ve got two fics I’m almost done so you’ll see them here at some point within the next few days. As always, thanks for listening 😚

Background: Angel had a long shoot at the studio, specifically one involving him being tied up which unfortunately left the spider sore. Thankfully, Husker knows how to work some magic, and makes a little discovery in the process.

Script is below the cut for anyone interested

[Sound Effect: Door creaking open, soft footsteps heavy sigh.]

Angel Dust: [muttering] Ugh, that was the worst. I swear, Val’s gonna strangle me with those ropes one day. I’m gonna tie him up next time, see how he likes it. Stupid tight knots, can’t even feel my arms no more…

[Sound Effect: Bed creaks as Angel flops down dramatically.]

Angel Dust: Shit, ma whole body’s sore. Like, every joint’s screaming at me, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got rope burns in places I didn’t even know were real.

Husk: That bad of a shoot, huh? You look like someone dropped a damn piano on you.

Angel Dust: You don’t even wanna know what I went through today, Husky. Trust me.

Husk: Guess you’re lucky you’ve got my ass to patch you up, huh? Turn over.

Angel Dust: [teasing] Oh? Ya gonna get all hands-on with me, Whiskers? Should I light some candles, maybe put on some summa that jazzy stuff Al keeps playin round the hotel?

Husk: [snorts] Yeah, totally. Make it sound even more sappy, asshole. Just come over here. Let me hold you. I’ll be gentle, promise.

[Sound effect: Sheet movement as Husk pulls Angel close to him]

Angel Dust: [relaxed sigh] Alight, alright. Don’t get too cozy, old man. I’m just here for a quick rubdown… [quieter] don’t get any ideas.

Husk: [more serious] Angie, shh. [soft kiss]. I’m not in this for your body or any sort of gratification. Never will be. Hell, I’d be happy just getting to hold you like this all night, alright? I’m here for you. Just you.

Angel Dust: [weak laugh] And I thought ya didn’t want to be sappy?

Husk: Hey, it ain’t sappy. It’s just honest. Now let me help you feel better, yeah?

Angel Dust: [softly] Okay. I just don’t think a massage will really help at all, ya know? it’s all achy and-

Husk: You won’t know until you let me try, will ya? Just relax, Angie. I won’t even massage ya if that’s not what you want. I’ll just do that thing you like…with the hand tracing and whatnot.

Angel Dust: (still hesitant but a little more relaxed, his voice soft and teasing): Oh, that thing I like, huh? You make it sound all mysterious, Husky. Real smooth.

Husk [snorts quietly, keeping his tone light but focused] Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all smart on me. You know you like it. Just let it work its magic.

[Sound Effect: Husk’s claws gently scraping through Angel’s fur, starting from his shoulders, moving slowly down his back. The soft rhythm of his hands soothing Angel.]

Angel Dust: Mm, yeah... that’s better... damn, Husky. You’re good at this... Feels real nice, actually.

[Sound Effect: Soft creak of the bed as Husk shifts slightly, getting comfortable while keeping Angel close. His claws move in steady, deliberate motions through Angel’s fur, creating a soothing rhythm.]

Husk [smirking slightly but still focused on his hands, continuing to rub and soothe]: Figured I’d have some skills in something other than drinkin’ and slingin’ cards. Looks like you really needed a little TLC.

Angel Dust (slightly teasing but still very relaxed now, his voice low and lazy):

“Yeah, you’re alright, Husky... That hit the spot... So much better than whatever Val was tryin’ to do…”

Husk: [Soft chuckle] Yeah, well, don’t go spreadin’ it around. Got a reputation to keep, y’know. Can’t have everyone thinkin’ I’m some kinda softie.

Angel Dust: [small giggle] Pfft, yeah, ‘cause nothing screams tough guy like tucking your favorite spider in bed and petting him like a cat.

Husk: [snorts] Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll stop.

Angel Dust: [mock panic]: Woah, woah, hold up! No need for drastic measures, Whiskers. You’re doin’ great! Five stars. A-plus.

Husk: [laugh] That’s what I thought.

[Sound Effect: Husk’s claws trail lower down Angel’s back, brushing over a sensitive spot. Angel’s relaxed sigh suddenly turns into a quick intake of breath, followed by a surprised chuckle.]

Angel Dust: [startled laugh, slightly higher pitched voice]: H-Husky! Careful there!

Husk: [stops] Stopping. I’m stopping. What’s wrong? Was I bein’ too rough on ya sides?

Angel Dust: [awkward, quick] Nah, just tickled, s’all.

Husk: [pause, smirking, playful tone] Oh? Ticklish, are we?

Angel Dust: I-I mean! No! N-no, just…caught me off guard is what I meant. Keep goin’. Totally fine. Nope, not ticklish.

Husk: [leaning in with mischievousness] Not ticklish, huh? Guess I should double-check, just to be sure. Can’t have you lying to me.

Angel Dust: [Through a shaky laugh, trying to sound composed but failing] H-Husky! I swear! I ain’t- [giggle]

Husk: [chuckling] Uh-huh, sure you’re not. Sounds real convincing, Angie.

Angel Dust: [giggling slightly] O-Okay! Okay, you’re…pressin’ your luck!

Husk: [mock seriousness] My luck? Sweetheart, I think I just hit the jackpot. [He shifts again, his claws now tracing up along Angel’s ribs with careful precision.]

[Sound effect: Bed sheets, squirming]

Angel Dust: Ah—Husky! Not there! Not the ribs! You’re—oh, shit—you’re killin’ me!

Husk: Killin’ ya? Don’t be dramatic. You’re laughin’, not dyin’. Besides, isn’t laughter supposed to be the best medicine?

Angel Dust: I swear—hah—y-you’re the worst! D-don’t you have... s-some catnip to chase or somethin’?!

Husk: [laughs, then mock growls] Keep talkin’ smack, and I’ll find a new spot to test out other than your ribs. Like here, how’s yer knees, huh?

Angel Dust (laughing loudly, trying to sound stern but failing): Husky! I-I’m warnin’ ya! You go there, and I’ll—ahhh! No, no, no, not there!

Husk: [mock serious, his voice full of teasing delight]: Not here? You mean... here?

Angel Dust: [through uncontrollable laughter, voice high-pitched]: H-Husky! I c-can’t—haah! I can’t take it! You jerk!

Husk: [chuckling, his tone smug]: But I thought you said you weren’t ticklish, Angie. Sounds like you’re enjoyin’ this to me.

Angel Dust: [gasping for breath, his voice raspy and giggly]: Y-you’re—hah—misinterpretin’ the situation! I’m—ahah—bein’ tortured here! You sadistic furball!

Husk: [snorts, still tickling but with a lighter touch] Sadistic, huh? Nah, I’m just thorough. Gotta make sure you’re nice and relaxed. Laughter’s good for the soul, ya know."

Angel Dust: [still laughing, his voice slightly breathless but teasing] Y-you’re insane, Whiskers! This ain’t helpin’ me relax—it’s makin’ me lose my damn mind!

Husk: [grinning, his tone softer but still playful]: Yeah? Funny, you’re not exactly pullin’ away. Or tellin me to stop.

Angel Dust: [giggling, mock defensive] I just—hah—don’t wanna accidentally deck ya in the face while tryin’ to escape! Bein’ courteous is all!"

Husk: [smirking, his tone sly]: Sure, sure. Let’s test that theory then, huh? How about we go a little higher, eh? Like your cute little stomach here...

Angel Dust: [half-screaming, half-laughing] H-Husky! Oh my—ahhh! You’re gonna p-pay for this! I swear to—hah—Lucifer!

Husk: [laughing, clearly amused]: Pay for it? What, with more of your adorable squealin’? You’re real intimidatin’, Angie. Keep tryin’. Now, there’s gotta be a real good spot on ya somewhere…

Angel Dust: [voice shaky but trying to sound firm] N-no... you don’t wanna go there, Husky. I’m warning ya—if you go any higher—hahhh—"

Husk: [smirking, voice teasing and almost predatory] Oh? Is this the forbidden zone? The secret weak spot, huh? Can’t handle it under yer arms?

Angel Dust: [his voice a mix of laughter and mild panic] Y-yeah, the worst spot! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll— [squeal]

Husk: [laughing deeply, clearly enjoying this] Yeah, yeah, keep squirming. You’re not gettin’ away, Angie. You sound way too cute when you’re like this. Sides, you’re pulling me closer.

Angel Dust: [giggling breathlessly] You—are—you’re—so dead! Shit! Okay, no more! Stop, stop stop!

Husk: [instantly stops] Okay. Okay, I’m stopping.

Angel Dust: [gasping for breath, still chuckling lightly] Oh my god, you’re evil, Husky. Evil, I swear!

Husk: [laughing] Oh please, you enjoyed it. And I stopped when you asked like the gentleman I am, didn’t I?

Angel Dust: [still giggling, out of breath] I mean, yeah, I did… but you’re still a monster. Evil little furball.

Husk: [grinning slyly] Oh, I’m a monster now? Look who’s talkin’. You practically melted when I started. You love it, don’t ya, Angie?

Angel Dust: [smirking, slightly shy] Y-yeah, maybe I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you off easy. You will pay for this.

Husk: [snorts, voice teasing but affectionate] I’m lookin’ forward to it, Spidey. But for now, let’s just keep you from making good on those threats. Here, no more tickling. Promise.

[Sound Effect: Husk’s claws continue their slow, soothing motion on Angel’s back.]

Angel Dust: [giggling softly, almost content now] You’re lucky you got me in a good mood or I wouldn’t be waiting for revenge.

Husk: [chuckling softly] Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re only keepin' it together ‘cause I’m good at what I do.

Angel Dust: [playfully] I’m not that easy to please, y’know. You should be thankful you’ve got those magic claws of yours.

Husk: [grinning] Oh, I know. You’re a tough one to crack, but I’m just patient. Got a knack for getting you to melt when I need to, though.

Angel Dust: [smirking] Patience, huh? Well, you’re not always gonna get your way, Husky. I’ve got tricks up my sleeve, too. Don’t get too cocky.

Husk: [laughs, still softly tracing his claws] Oh, I’m not getting cocky, Spidey. Just stating facts. You might talk a big game, but I know what makes you tick.

Angel Dust: [playfully] That’s a real bold statement for someone who’s currently rubbing my back to keep me from plotting his downfall.

Husk: [laughs] Oh, shut it and come here [soft kiss]

Angel Dust: [teasing] Oh, getting all sweet on me now, huh? Guess I can’t stay mad at you for long. [softly] You really know how to calm me down, Husky.

Husk: [smirking] What can I say? I'm a man of many talents. [pauses] Now, stop making threats and just let me hold you for a minute. You deserve a break.

Angel Dust: [snickers] Fine, fine. But only because you promised no more tickling. You really do know how to make me forget my revenge plans. [sighs contentedly] This is nice.

Husk: [softly] Yeah, it is. Just you and me. No tricks, no threats... just us.

[mirrology]

— Rowdy .ᐟ ☆

୨୧ rowdy: ( noun) a noisy and disorderly person. (adjective) noisy and disorderly.

Ft. boothill, gender neutral reader. platonic. Wc: 722

Content: short bit of hc's and a small fic at the end, readers age is not specified, boothill being a little shit, he cares abt u tho, typical sibling shenanigans, sibling bonding, cursing, boothill may be ooc.

A/n: first ever platonic boothill fic /j, also this is kinda lazy but whatever.

He would definitely be one of those annoying brothers that come into your room just to look at you, then leave without closing the door.

but he genuinely cares about you and your safety considering his job as a galaxy ranger.

Boothill also definitely calls you runt, squirt, & kid no matter how old you are or no matter how much you complain.

Frequently ruffles your hair as a sign of affection, although this ends in bickering when you do your hair before it.

Definitely can't cook for shit, every time he tries to make something for you out of the kindness of his heart, he absolutely wrecks it.

It ends up burnt and inedible, and a purple aura around in a cartoonish fashion. and oh, the poor kitchen, you can't count how many times you've had to fix something. it has gone through a lot.

The two of you have sleepovers where you do skincare, watch movies and gossip about anything and everything.

you would think that Boothill is more of a horror movie and/or action movies type guy but he has a soft spot for sappy romance movies and the saddest films possible.

and if you feel like it, both of you talk about your love life.

Trains you by sparring in hand-to-hand combat, he usually wins the sparring, but you've gotten close to beating him.

After your training session you flop on the floor like a dead fish and beg him to carry you back inside, he obliges but not before teasing you for falling to the ground.

he picks you up in a princess carry or in a piggy back ride.

Boothill gives you things at the most random times, "oh but it's not a holiday or anything special today!" you can say but he won't care. accept his gift.

If you just as much glance at something in a store for 1 millisecond you'll find said thing in a gift bag with a little note, handwritten by him.

Since he's part robot he can't drink water or even touch it or he will malfunction, even though he's made to sustain the harsh weather of the desert and attacks from the criminals he hunts down.

so if he's being stubborn and does go through with touching water, you're the one who (quite literally) brings him back to life.

and because of this you've become well-versed in technology. you constantly fix anything that is wrong, such as a jammed finger. Although can't seem to get rid of that swear filter that he's unfortunately stuck with.

Overall Boothill is a very fun elder brother who wants to keep you safe.

You woke up to the feeling of being moved from your spot on your desk. you had been working on one of your tech projects, spending hours on end tinkering away in your room. You cracked one eye open, sleep pulling at your eyes, wanting them to close one more. You were met with the familiar face of your brother above you. then you registered the feeling of his hand on your back and underneath your knees.

Boothill noticed your sleepy gaze on him, and he smiled cheekily, "Heya, runt. I see ya' woke up" he chuckled in amusement at your disheveled appearance. He laid you down on your bed and placed the covers over your body, you immediately sank into your mattress and the soft feeling of the blanket on top of you was making you sleepier.

"Jeez, how long have ya' been up?" His smile dropped a little as he noticed a faint outline of dark circles underneath your eyes. "dunno..." you slurred out and turned to your side, facing him. "Hey, big bro?" you quietly said, Boothill raised an eyebrow "yea?" he asked.

You softly grinned, "Love ya'" you said, then suddenly being interrupted by a yawn. there was silence as your eyes drooped and eventually closed as you fell into a deep slumber.

Boothill stared at your sleeping face, it wasn't exactly surprising that you had said that you loved him. It was just that you didn't say it often, it wasn't that you didn't want to. Boothill's schedule is almost always full, so spending time with him can be hard. A rare soft smile graced his features and he reached over to caress your head.

"I love ya' too, kid." He whispered.

[strawberri-elixir]

Sleepless nights

╰⇢ 3. Go white boy go

Warnings: like- one swear word?

note: a little longer part but the next part is (hopefully) where things start picking up. but there’s written parts so don’t miss those!

You switched off your phone just in time to see Yuta running up to you. He tossed you his helmet as he climbed up the ramp, taking the spot beside you.

“Took you long enough.” You roll your eyes, pushing the boy off, leaving him to slide back down the damp concrete.

“It was only a few minutes.” Yuta groans, dusting himself off to climb back up again. His sad attempts at trying to reach the ledge almost made you feel bad for him. Almost.

“Holy shit you suck at this.”

Despite wanting to help him, the better part of you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. What else were you supposed to do? You are best friends after all. Laugh first, help after. That’s the universal rule for all best friends.

After getting your entertainment from watching the poor boy fail again and again to get a good grip on the ledge, you finally offered him a hand (which he reluctantly took).

“Don’t worry, I made sure to get all the good angles.” You flashed your phone at him, swiping to the side to show him all the photos you took of him.

As he takes in the images, Yuta’s faces turn into one of absolute terror. “Delete those right now!” He reaches for the device.

“Never! You look cute in them!” You smack his reaching hand away. “These are going into my folder!”

“There’s more?!” He lets out a horrified gasp.

“Obviously!”

As Yuta continues to reach for your phone, your phone buzzes. You sneak a glance at it and see a notification from one of your streaming apps.

‘toginu is live now!’

Yuta also sees the notification and stops trying to take your phone, sitting back up and waiting for you to turn on the livestream.

You immediately click on the notification and your brought to the app, the sounds of keys clicking greeting your ears.

The boy continues typing away on his keyboard, occasionally looking at the chat and thousands of messages flood through every second. Looks like you made it in time to watch.

Yuta leaned onto your shoulder, watching your screen. The two of you had an unspoken agreement to watch livestreams together whenever possible.

You turned the volume up and placed the phone next to Yuta before standing up and grabbing your skateboard.

“Keep you updated.” You pushed yourself forward and through the park.

“Time to go.” Yuta stood up, stretching his limbs.

You let out a disapproving groan, flopping backwards onto the cement and staring up into the sky. The sun was slowly rising in the distance, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

“Don’t wanna do anything today.” You sigh.

Yuta gathered his things and wandered over to you, joining you on the ground and admiring the view. “We should go before our parents realize we’re gone.”

“Yeah…” You sat up, grabbing all of your belongings and stuffing them back into your bag before following Yuta out of the park.

It wasn’t long before you reached your house. Yuta pulled into the back as usual for you to easily be able to sneak back into your room via your window.

You gave the boy a quick hug, promising to text him later before running through your backyard towards your room.

“I’ll see you in class!” He called out to you before he sped off in the direction of his own house.

“What class??” You mumble to yourself as you slide your window open.

As soon as you entered your room, your alarm started going off, telling you to get ready for the day. You look at it in confusion. Your alarm only rings on weekdays.

“Time to get up! You got school!” You hear a voice yelling at you from outside the door, accompanied by a loud banging.

“I’m up!” You yell back.

Now you were not only tired, you had to put up with a whole day of classes. You could’ve sworn it was Sunday.

You had a long day ahead of you.

Masterlist | Next

fun facts:

— you rely heavily on yuta to keep track of the time when you guys go out all night (even though he’s worse at time keeping than you are)

— he always manages to get you home in the morning before your parents notice tho

— you have multiple folders in your photo gallery for silly little pictures and videos for all of your friends (most of them are of yuta)

taglist:

@sur-i-ki @aespaforlifersyall @camilo-uwu @butterflyqueen234 @shinsukeee @tanchosanke @emii4evr @lees-chaotic-brain @you-always-made-me-blush @jayathelostdragon

[ange1sang]

kinktober d.3: gallavich + oral fixation

minors + under 18s pls do not interact ty

gallavich (ian x mickey); 2k words, smut, college au, crushes, blowjobs, oral fixation

a/n: this one's an au but i swear it's good so pls give it a chance!! <3

Mickey’s never been one to stare. He knows how to mind his own business, fuck you very much, and on top of that he doesn’t find most people all that interesting. Some of them are hot, some of them are boring, but most of them land somewhere in the middle that warrants a few glances at most before he makes a move or leaves them alone. He’s a direct person, for better or worse, and doesn’t find much fun in the whole playing footsie under the table and biting your lip at each other. If he’s into someone he’ll come out and say it, so no, he doesn’t spend much of his time staring at people. But this one ginger fuck — well, he’s an exception.

Mickey sees him for the first time in his Entrepreneurship class. This shouldn’t mean anything, really, because there are at least three hundred people crammed into the lecture hall, but the redhead is hot and sitting a row down just to Mickey’s right so that he’s got a good view of him. He’s hot enough that Mickey considers asking if he’ll be at the student bar later, but instead he finds himself watching him the whole class. In particular, he finds him watching his mouth.

The whole class, the redhead has something between his lips. At first he’s chewing gum, which he neatly folds away in a piece of scrap paper ten minutes into the lecture and replaces with the end of his pen. At first he’s just running it back and forth across his lips, almost like he’s flirting subconsciously with someone, but eventually he starts chewing on the plastic, teeth digging into little grooves already formed there. Even during the break when he’s chatting idly with the person sat next to him he runs his tongue along his bottom lip between sentences, bites at his top lip so that it’s slick with spit when he starts to speak again. Mickey’s captivated, and by the time he’s packing his notebook away he realises he didn’t learn much of anything from the lecture.

Next lecture, he looks around for the ginger head of hair and sits behind him again. He tells himself this time he’ll ask where he’s staying, find something to talk about that makes it clear he wants to hang out, but then the redhead unwraps a lollipop and all of those thoughts vanish. It’d be one thing if he just sucked on it like a normal person, but every few minutes he grabs a hold of the stick and rubs it back and forth over his lips like he’s applying gloss. Once again, an hour and forty five minutes are lost to watching this guy’s mouth. Watching how he leaves his lips shiny with sugar for a second or two before licking it away, over and over until the lollipop is gone. Even then he keeps the stick in his mouth, moving it up and down then side to side with his tongue. Mickey’s glad the pull up desk is close enough to his lap that no one can see the boner he spends all class willing away.

This happens again, and again, until Mickey feels like he’s going insane. He hasn’t mapped out anybody’s face this well, couldn’t tell you if his flatmate had any beauty marks, but he’s got the freckles on this guy’s face committed to memory. And his mouth. He has an embarrassing amount of daydreams (and real dreams) about his fucking mouth. It’s a nightmare. Every time he checks his timetable and sees Entrepreneurship his stomach does a little flip-flop of anticipation. And if Mickey’s never been one for staring, he’s definitely never been one for stomach flip-flops.

It’s the eighth lecture when he gets to class and doesn’t spot the redhead there, which unnerves him slightly because he’s always weirdly early. But whatever. The lectures aren’t mandatory and with the amount of people in the class it’d be impossible to see the same people every time. He sits down towards the back and pulls out his notebook and pen (free of teeth marks, unlike that redheaded fuck’s). It’s almost like clockwork, what happens next. As soon as the cap on his pen comes off, the seat next to his is being pushed down and— shit.

“Cool if I sit here?” the redhead asks, even though he’s already sat down, pulling out a notebook and his signature chewed up pen.

“Guess so,” Mickey mumbles, and realises far too late that he’s been staring at him. He’s gotten so used to doing it that it’s almost like second nature, but now that the guy’s sitting close enough that he can feel the warmth coming off of his arm it’s painfully obvious that he’s looking at him and his mouth.

They sit in silence until the lecture starts, at which point the redhead leans into him and speaks softly around the pen cap between his lips.

“My name’s Ian,” he whispers. Mickey glances at him and instantly feels a familiar warmth in his stomach when he twists the pen cap back and forth between his lips.

“Mickey,” he whispers back, averting his eyes before he digs himself any further into this hole.

“My friend said you were staring last lecture,” Ian goes on, voice taking on a teasing lilt that has Mickey cussing under his breath. “And the one before that, and the one before?”

He phrases it like a question, like Mickey should say something to defend himself before he jumps to conclusions. There isn’t much to say though, not when the conclusions are probably accurate, so he just shrugs.

“You’ve always got shit in your mouth, man,” he mumbles back, meeting Ian’s eyes for a split second and then looking down at where he’s sucking on his bottom lip for what he hopes is just a split second. “’S fuckin’ weird.”

“Weird?” Ian whispers, breaking off into a giggle just loud enough to make someone in the row ahead of them turn around. Mickey nods, even though he can feel warmth climbing his cheeks to the tips of his ears, watching how the other wipes the spit from his bottom lip with his thumb. “Sure it’s not ‘cause you want to put something else in my mouth?”

If Mickey hadn’t already given himself a Pavlovian reaction to this godforsaken class that sentence alone would definitely be enough to do it.

“Maybe,” he gets out without sounding too embarrassed. He looks at Ian and finds him with the end of his pen between his teeth, tongue running along the bite marks on the end of it. Paired with the knowing smile on his lips it’s enough to give him a semi. “You gonna do somethin’ about it, red?”

“Soon as class is over,” Ian says, grinning like he’s told a joke. Mickey feels like he’s been handed a sentence instead, checking the time on his phone and realising there’s an hour and a half left of class.

.

The second they’re out of the lecture hall Ian’s grinning at him all over again. Mickey chooses to ignore how his cheeks are burning in favour of rummaging around in his bag for his cigarettes.

“Don’t light anything, my place is just across the street,” Ian says, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him towards the exit. Mickey raises an eyebrow.

“You’re eager,” he comments, which makes Ian snort.

“Like you said, I’ve always got stuff in my mouth,” he replies like it’s nothing.

Ian’s place is a cramped studio, about as disorganised as any college student’s place, but Mickey doesn’t get to look around for more than a couple of seconds before Ian’s reaching for his jeans, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping them without looking. His mouth is centimetres from Mickey’s, and even now he’s got his bottom lip between his teeth, smiling at Mickey as he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers.

“Wanna sit on my bed?” he asks, even as he’s pushing Mickey’s jeans down his legs.

“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey shrugs. He couldn’t care less where he’s standing or sitting as long as he finally gets to feel this guy’s fucking mouth on him. He doesn’t have to worry or wait much longer because as soon as he’s siting down Ian’s got his pants around his ankles and leans forward to land an open-mouthed kiss on the head of his dick.

He doesn’t start stroking him to get him hard like Mickey half-expects him to do. Instead he runs his tongue all over him, licking up along one of the veins on the side of his length and swirling his tongue around the head, flicking it against the frenulum and moving his face down to suck on his balls. He barely uses his hands and yet he has Mickey’s dick spit-coated and hard in nearly record time.

“Feel as good as you thought it would?” he asks while he’s rubbing the slit against his lips, smearing precum across them like it’s lip gloss. Mickey’s reminded of him doing the same thing with his lollipop in the second lecture they shared and groans.

“Fuck yeah,” is all he gets out before Ian starts sucking him off in earnest and god fucking damn. All that staring did nothing to prepare Mickey for how the redhead takes him to the hilt like it’s nothing, drooling all over his dick and coming up for air with strings of spit still connecting them. Ian smiles at him with an oddly out of place schoolboy charm, and leans in to suck along the side of his cock.

His tongue is skilled, which Mickey had already figured, but the way it drags along his skin has his brain melting, first the tip tracing along every sensitive spot he can find and then pressed flat against the underside of his dick as he leans down and takes him all the way. Mickey finds himself unable to do much other than swear as Ian stays down for longer than should be possible, nose buried in his pubes as he swallows around his dick.

“Motherfucker,” Mickey grits out through clenched teeth, letting his head fall back when Ian finally comes up to breathe. Even as he catches his breath he doesn’t stop, running his lips and tongue over every inch of him until he’s covered in a thick, sticky layer of saliva. It doesn’t put Ian off either — if anything he’s more excited about lapping up all of the precum and spit on Mickey’s skin.

“Tell me when you’re gonna cum,” he demands suddenly, voice just a little rough, and it’s all Mickey can do not to laugh.

“Any fuckin’ second,” he admits, earning him a grin from the redhead before he’s bobbing his head again. He feels like heaven, Mickey thinks for a split second, and then his tongue is rubbing right against his frenulum and good fucking God. He moans embarrassingly loud and Ian seems to get the cue because he pulls up just in time to catch every spurt of cum on his tongue.

Mickey watches, captivated like he always is by Ian’s mouth, as the redhead used the head of his dick to spread cum evenly over his lips and then licks it all away and swallows.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You’re fuckin’ good at that.”

Ian shrugs, sitting back and taking a deep breath. Mickey keeps watching for a moment, notices how for the first time since he’s seen him his mouth stays totally still. No lip licking or biting, no fingertip stuck between his teeth to chew on. He’s surprised — pleasantly or otherwise, he’s not sure.

“How come you’re always putting shit in your mouth anyway?” he asks. The question instantly has Ian’s tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip.

“It’s an anxiety thing. Nervous tic or something,” he says, looking flustered for the first time. Mickey smirks.

“You stopped doing it for a minute there, y’know,” he states, and watches as his freckled cheeks turn pink.

“Yeah, well don’t get ahead of yourself, we haven’t been on a date or anything,” he says with a smile, getting up and throwing a towel in Mickey’s direction.

Mickey stifles a laugh. At least he knows what he’s asking him next lecture.

[llxferim]

Hello!!! I love your blog and your Klaus stories. I had a little idea about him, Klaus x GN!Reader who is obsessed with his hips (because let's be honest, I'm totally infatuated with them *cough*). I imagine he would be a little tease about it when he'd notice how the Reader is feeling? Thank you in advance!

a/n: THANK YOU SO SO MUCHH ILY, IF U DONT LIKE THIS IM ALL DOWN TO REWRITE IT, LIKE GENUIENLY.

yall i tried my besttt, i didnt rlly know how to finish it so just don't judge alright I'm going to cry. besides that thank you so much for the support omgg so many ppl liked and reblogged my fics I'm so happy :)))

pairings: Klaus Hargreeves x Gn!reader

Summary: you are obsessed with Klaus's hips

Genre: fluff

Warnings: Alchohol, gn!reader, gender neutral reader, no y/n used. Klaus is a tease.

Word count: 500 something (i cant write long fics for my life yall)

You'd always heard it was the small things—the details about a person that drives you mad, that sneak up on you and settle deep in your bones until you can't shake them. You never believed it until... Klaus Hargreeves.

It wasn't his sly grin, nor his ability to light up your mood no matter what—you loved all that about him—but no, what got you were his hips.

you two were in your room, Klaus getting dressed and—you reading a book in your chair— if you’d even call it reading.

Klaus was pacing the room, shirt half-buttoned, his low-rise jeans peeking out as he rummaged through a pile of clothes—probably looking for a clothing piece he'd mindlessly tossed in his usual chaos, getting ready for Luther’s wedding.

You leaned back in your chair, pretending to be invested in the book on your lap. But your eyes betrayed you, trailing down to his hips—the way they moved perfectly in sync with his long legs, almost like a sensual dance that came naturally to him.

"What are you staring at, doll?" Klaus's voice pulled you back from your daze, and his smirk told you he already knew the answer. "Nothing," you mumbled, clearing your throat and returning to your book, hoping he wouldn't notice your fierce blush.

"Nothing, huh?" He sauntered over a cat-like grace to his steps.

Klaus leaned in, resting his hands on the arms of the chair you were sitting on. You could smell his cologne—a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely him.

"You know," he drawled, "it's rude to stare without offering a compliment."

Your eyes snapped up to his face, heat rising to your cheeks. "I wasn't—"

"Oh, but you were," Klaus interrupted, his grin widening. He pushed off the chair and spun dramatically, arms outstretched. "So, what's the verdict? Do these jeans make my ass look good?"

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. "You're impossible, Klaus."

"Impossibly charming, you mean," he winked, flopping onto your bed with a dramatic sigh. "Now, as punishment for your rudeness, I'm charging you with the task of helping me find those jeans. You know, the ones with the—"

"Sparkly skulls?" you finished for him, already moving to search through the chaos of his belongings. "I swear, Klaus, if you'd just organize your things..."

-----

Even in public, you'd find yourself staring. His hips were simply irresistible to you.

Everyone was drunk, even Five—a sight that was both amusing and unsettling. It was strange seeing him so nonchalant about the apocalypse.

the newlyweds were feeding each other.. strawberries. Across the room, Allison and Viktor were arguing about—something, their voices barely audible over the thumping music, and Diego had disappeared with Lila some time ago.

And then there was him. Klaus, the life of the party as always, was on the dance floor, his body moving in perfect rhythm to the beat. Your eyes couldn't help but linger on him, admiring how those jeans hugged his hips just right. Even during a world-ending disaster, Klaus had a way of commanding attention—and looking damn good while doing it.

As the night wore on, the party's energy seemed to fuel his every move. You watched him, and couldn't help but smile at how completely Klaus could captivate an entire room.

At one point, he spotted you from across the room. With a mischievous grin, he beckoned you over. and before you could react, he was at your side, pulling you into the crowd.

"Come on, doll," he said, his voice a playful purr. "You can't just stand there staring. Join me."

You laughed, letting him guide you onto the dance floor. For a moment, it was just the two of you, moving together in sync with the music. The world outside ceased to exist.

[atzloverr]

Chapter 6 - Selfish Desire

Warning: this chapter includes yandere themes, kidnapping

previous chapter - next chapter

Selfish desire masterlist

Your mind was all over the place.

Maybe it was the lack of food in your system, or perhaps just the huge amount of information being thrown at you all at once.

What boggled your mind the most wasn’t even the fact that you were kidnapped, it was who kidnapped you.

All those vague answers to your questions, his mysterious demeanor and those long, uncomfortable stares. It all made sense now.

Park Seonghwa had planned this all along, and his partner in crime was a monster who tortured the boy who was in love with you.

Yunho.

You had no perception of time in this dark, isolated basement, but it felt like an eternity had passed since Yunho left for dinner.

You had already checked every corner of the dimly lit room for any kind of means to escape, but only grew more frustrated when you found absolutely nothing. The only sense of comfort you had was Yunho’s hoodie around your body.

You felt sick at the thought of those two monsters undressing you, tying you up and leaving you all alone. If what Yunho said was true, they must truly be sick.

If they think this is any way to treat someone they “love”.

For what felt like the past hour, you had sat in your loneliness in a corner of the basement. The one furthest away from the stairs. You occasionally heard the sound of footsteps from above you, but no other sound could give you any more clues to where you were, or what was really going on.

Your head snapped up from where it rested on your shoulder when the door was slowly opened. As much as you wanted to stay calm, your own body betrayed you, making your breathing pick up in fear.

You didn’t know what to expect, but the person who showed up was the last one you wanted to see.

Hongjoong.

And he was all alone.

His slippers made a flop sound when he walked over to you slowly. You didn’t dare to move an inch, or even take a peek at his face.

As he made his way to where you were sat, you could see that he now wore silk pajama pants, colored a deep blue. You were guessing it was nighttime then.

“(Y/N), please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” he sighed. You finally dared to raise your head to meet his fierce gaze.

He was smiling.

This time, not a big grin, but a small, tired smile. He almost looked like he pitied you, which did nothing to calm the anger brewing inside of you.

“Why are you doing this to me?” your voice sounded out in a small whisper.

He sighed deeply once again, kneeling down to your level, sitting in front of you on his knees. You were too tired to try and fight him, and he knew that too.

“Yunho practically begged us to let the two of you spend the night,” Hongjoong told you ignoring your earlier question. “I was so sad to deny him, but the way you acted, trying to hurt me… I just can’t let it go unpunished,” he said, pouting slightly, as to try to look sad for you. As if this wasn’t all his fault.

“And don’t think I don’t know about his little crush on you,” Hongjoong giggled.

Your eyes widened against your own will.

“Oh you’re so cute (Y/N)! did you honestly think I didn’t know?” he laughed. You could swear you had run out of tears, but your eyes proved you wrong as the man in front of you started laughing mockingly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him that you know his little secret,” he promised, stroking your hair. His hands on you were disgusting. All you wanted was to push him away from you as quickly as possible, but you couldn’t move at all.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked again while tears slowly trickled down your cheeks. Hongjoong’s thumbs gently wiped them away.

“You’ll never understand, will you?” he said, still having that smile, even as his tone became harsher. Meaner. “Stop asking stupid questions, and then you won’t have to rot in this basement.”

Your bottom lip trembled. Maybe this is exactly what he wanted. To see you this weak and fragile. As much as your mind told your body to move, it was as if you were in a trance, looking into your captor’s eyes.

“Looks like you’re staying down here for tonight darling,” his smile grew. You shook your head, not wanting to be in this cold basement anymore. “But look, I brought you something!” he said excitedly.

He stood up and picked up something from the floor. Huh. You must’ve missed it when he put it down.

“I’m not so cruel, am I?” he asked rhetorically, holding up something, blocking the small amount of light you had.

You felt your eyebrows knit together as he held up the large blanket in his hands. Your large blanket. “What, how-“ you started, feeling the tears continue to stream down your cheeks.

“I know you can have trouble sleeping at times, so I brought you something to make you feel more…” Hongjoong smiled. “At home.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

This might’ve been the worst night of your life.

Even with the rain pouring outside, and your thick blanket wrapped around your body, you were restless.

Your body was so tired, but your mind couldn’t give you a wink of sleep. The fear consumed your entire mind, leaving you shivering slightly.

Was this what Yunho had to go through? Sleeping alone in a cold and empty basement with thousands of questions, but zero answers?

You could tell hours had passed, and the morning was near. Light came through the basement door, illuminating the room better, serving as a sign that the day was near.

You dreaded the moment that door would be opened once again, but at the same time, wanted company, answers and most of all, food.

Your stomach was growling at you. The last time you ate was dinner before your shift, which consisted of instant noodles… You didn’t want to, but a part of you regretted fighting back when you were given food.

Maybe food was a privilege here, something that you needed to earn. It wouldn’t shock you if Hongjoong took away basic human rights here, such as food or water.

Thankfully, there was a small bathroom in the basement, so that right was still in your grasp.

You curled yourself into a ball, still trying to find that sleep you so desperately needed. That’s when you finally heard those infamous footsteps coming from above you. From what you’d connected so far, Hongjoong’s steps were the roughest. These steps however, were almost silent. You wanted to think that it was Yunho, but something told you that it might’ve been the third party involved in this.

If you weren’t so on edge, you probably wouldn’t have picked up on the person slowly unlocking the door and stepping inside. The person slowly made their way down the stairs, so quietly that you couldn’t really hear how many steps they had left.

You decided to go with your best bet.

Playing dead.

Or more accurately, fake sleeping. As a kid, you had easily learnt how to change your breathing to make your fake sleeping believable.

You were facing the opposite wall of the basement, so you still didn’t know who was behind you.

A deep sigh was heard as the man sat down.

You knew exactly who that sigh belonged to. You had heard him make all kinds of noises, anything to avoid speaking.

He seemed to keep himself at a distance from you, maybe some attempt at respecting your boundaries? It seemed ridiculous if you thought about it.

“(Y/N)” His deep voice sounded out, slightly raspier than normal. “I-“ he started, breath catching in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You opened your eyes in confusion.

Seonghwa sniffled quietly. “I love you,” he told you. You couldn’t believe the words coming out of the man’s mouth.

I must’ve finally managed to fall asleep. This must be some kind of weird dream…

You had to know if this was purely your imagination or not, so you turned around to look at Seonghwa, without thinking it through.

He gasped in surprise at your sudden glance.

“I- I thought-“ he stammered. You recognized this behavior. He was going to start panicking again. Just like that time at your place. Just like that time in school.

School.

Wooyoung.

Your place.

The corner.

It all came rushing back to you. Had you simply forgotten that you had a life back home?

Surely someone had to go looking for you, right? Maybe a missing person poster was going to be put up for you too.

Now, you were the one panicking, not your project partner in front of you.

“Hey, (Y/N), please calm down,” Seonghwa urged you, trying to shake you back into reality. Your breathing only picked up even more. The only thing capable of bringing you back to reality was the harsh slamming of the door, and the rushing footsteps that came after it.

Hongjoong stopped in his tracks when he saw the scene in front of him.

“Seonghwa,” he called out. Seonghwa’s head snapped to the side. “Leave us,” he demanded, eyes fixated on your form.

You watched with wide eyes as Seonghwa immediately obeyed, and rushed past Hongjoong, up the stairs. You flinched when the door was slammed closed once again.

The two of you ended up in a silent staring contest, not muttering a word to one another, until you finally mustered the courage to be the first one to speak.

“So you order around Seonghwa as well? Maybe I wasn’t so wrong to say you did this to him as well,” you said, still not breaking eye contact. Hongjoong raised a brow at your bold statement.

“You do not know anything about our relationship, so don’t go trying to make me a villain when you clearly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Your eyelid twitched at his rudeness. “Well then please indulge me, what is your relationship like?” you challenged.

Hongjoong stepped closer to you, still keeping his stare linked with yours. His hands gripped the soft blanket around you, and you soon realized what he was trying to do. “Stop it!” you yelled as he roughly pulled the blanket from your grasp. He harshly threw it behind him, and what he did next only made your will to fight him stronger.

“Hey, stop it you pervert!!” You tried to stop him from taking Yunho’s hoodie off of you with all your might, but his hands seemed to be made of steel.

“You don’t deserve to wear this,” he said, eyes wide with adrenaline and anger. As he finally snatched it from you, he pulled it close to his face, inhaling deeply. Was he… smelling it?

You crawled further away from him in disgust. You attempted to cover up your body, now only in your underwear. “Oh, are you cold? Are you embarrassed?” Hongjoong mocked. He was still smelling the hoodie, hiding his nose and mouth, but his eyes showed you that he was in fact smiling.

You already felt the goosebumps creeping up your body. Just as Hongjoong picked the blanket up and was about to leave, you spoke before your mind could comprehend it.

“Wait!”

Hongjoong stopped in his tracks, looking back at you. “P-please can I keep the blanket? It’s really cold down here,” you begged. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. Seeing you like this, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

He made a pause, pursing his lips in thought. A small ray of hope appeared, as you anticipated his answer.

“Hmm, let me think,” he smiled. “How about… No!” He laughed as he continued walking away from you.

“It was a cute attempt though,” he said on his way out.

Your eyes dropped to the floor beneath you. You hugged your knees in a small attempt to get some warmth, but already missed the fabric of Yunho’s hoodie against your body.

The door closed behind Hongjoong, the sound echoing in the basement. You were fearing those punishments that Yunho had told you about, but even as you made him angry, he just took away your human rights. First it was food, now it was warmth. You sighed in defeat.

Guess the waiting game was about to begin again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Yunho looked around the room, the anxiety creeping up on him. You, all alone in that dark basement he had spent so many nights in, he couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Even after begging Hongjoong and Seonghwa to let you sleep in his room tonight, they just reminded him who was in charge.

“You had to go through this too, didn’t you?” Seonghwa cooed, slowly dragging his fingers up and down Yunho’s arm. “It’s only fair she gets the same treatment!” he continued, smiling.

Yunho looked at the clock on the wall. It was five o’clock in the morning. Why on gods green earth would someone be up at this time.

Yunho’s breath hitched at the realization. Were they going to do something to you? He listened idly for more sounds of footsteps, having learned how to identify them by now.

Hongjoong was walking down the set of stairs leading to the first floor. Yunho couldn’t help but put a hand to his mouth in fear when the basement door was opened harshly. Hongjoong’s loud stomps were heard as he went down to the basement.

After minutes of silence, Seonghwa’s footsteps were heard outside of Yunho’s door. Had he also been down there?

The door to his bedroom was opened carefully, and Yunho couldn’t explain the look on Seonghwa’s face as he entered the room. Without any words being said, Seonghwa placed himself on the bed, next to Yunho.

The two locked eyes as Seonghwa’s weight made the bed dip slightly.

“What’s going on?” Yunho asked. Seonghwa snuggled closer to him, sighing. “Don’t worry about it.” Seonghwa’s hand found Yunho’s hair, running his fingers through it lovingly.

Yunho was left puzzled, unsatisfied with the answer. “Can I please meet her again today?” Yunho begged, looking into Seonghwa’s eyes with a pleading look. This time, he was happy to earn a silent nod from the man in front of him.

Finally, he could close his eyes and rest. Knowing that the two of you will reunite soon.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The basement suddenly lit up when the door was opened. It had been what you guessed to be a few hours since Hongjoong decided to deprive you from the warmth, and now you could only hope that he had miraculously changed his mind.

In your line of sight was Seonghwa, carrying a tray of food. Breakfast, you presumed. You. eyed him with caution as he set down the tray about a meter away from you.

It was a traditional Korean breakfast, which honestly, made your mouth water just from the look of it. However, you weren’t going to let yourself get fooled this time.

Seonghwa was about to take his leave when you let your suspicions get the better of you. “How do I know this isn’t drugged?” you asked, reading his face for any clues.

“You don’t,” he deadpanned, turning on his heels to leave you. “Can you at least give me a reason to trust you?” you tried.

He paused in his movement. “Maybe not a reason to trust me, but a reason to eat it,” he suggested. You tilted your head in confusion. “If you finish it, I’ll let you meet your little lover boy,” he smiled.

You bit your lip. “How do you know about that?” you questioned. Seonghwa chuckled, but still stood with his back facing you, ready to leave you any second.

“I think many people knew about it, only you were too dense to figure it out!”

He walked away from you swiftly.

“Can you promise me?”

His head snapped around once more, asking you to elaborate.

“Promise me that I’ll get to see him,” you demanded.

You could basically see his smile as he answered. “Sure darling. I promise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, that breakfast might’ve been the best thing you’d eaten in a long time.

You didn’t exactly have the economy to buy yourself luxurious ingredients like these, so it was truly a blessing to feel the tastes on your tongue.

You were hesitant at first, but once you took a bite, you couldn’t stop yourself.

Seonghwa just gave you a satisfied smile when he picked up your empty tray.

Now you just sat there, staring at a wall, silently anticipating Yunho’s arrival. You wondered how long they were going to keep you down here. What was their plan? What were they trying to do when they decided to kidnap you?

Seonghwa’s confession of love was not what you expected, but it seems what Yunho had told you about them was true after all.

Finally, the door was opened again. You got a peek of the main floor’s inviting warm lighting, being such a contrast to the dull and dark basement. Hongjoong appeared, hands behind his back, with that smile on his lips which you had already learned to hate.

You anxiously watched, and almost jumped up in joy when you saw Yunho’s tall frame enter the basement. Yes, you still felt very ashamed in your barely dressed state, but right now, none of that mattered.

You immediately threw yourself in Yunho’s embrace, holding him tight. For some reason, seeing him made you feel like everything was going to be okay. He didn’t have that bandage over his eye anymore, which also comforted you.

Yunho’s arms wrapped around your cold body, and his knitted sweater reminded you of home. Home. That’s what Hongjoong called this place. Home. What a disgusting use of such a warm word.

You threw a sharp glare at Hongjoong when he separated the two of you, giving Yunho a small back hug.

“I can’t believe Seonghwa would be so foolish as to give you a reward for merely finishing your food,” Hongjoong scoffed from between Yunho. Yunho looked apologetically at you.

“But I’m a man who keeps my promises, and my beloved’s promises,” he added. “So we’ll let you guys spend some quality time together,” Hongjoong giggled.

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to sound genuine. “I figure you’ll have to get to know each other better.” Hongjoong walked around Yunho, so he could get a clear view of you. “After all, you’ll be spending the rest of your lives together,” Hongjoong said, his eyes staring directly into yours.

You refused to let yourself react to those last words, knowing it was some sort of bait. There was no way he meant such a thing, no, he simply wants you to think that. Right?

Hongjoong slowly stepped away from the two of you, his boots loudly indicating his every step up the stairs.

You locked eyes with Yunho, whose eyes were distant and cold. When you heard the door close and lock, you immediately began where you left off.

“Oh (Y/N), I’m sorry,” he mumbled into your hair as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Yunho?” you answered confused.

He started sniffling silently. “No i-it’s just—“ he began, but his sobs interrupted him. “I don’t want this for you.”

You shook your head, only hugging him tighter.

The second you untangled from the hug, Yunho immediately took his sweater off, offering it to you again. You couldn’t even protest, you knew you needed it more than him.

The two of you sat down in the corner you had started to feel at home in, and that’s when the questions started throwing themselves out of you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Yunho had over the last 20 minutes or so, explained “how things work around here.”

You listened attentively as he explained the ways to stay out of trouble, and what could happen if you do get in trouble.

“Yunho, can’t we try to escape this place? There must be some way for us to get out?” You held Yunho’s warm and big hands as you suggested it. His eyes traveled to the floor.

“Do you remember when I told you that I tried to escape once?” You nodded.

“Well…” Yunho sighed. “I don’t want to tell you this but, it wasn’t worth it in the end.”

You raised an eyebrow. Yunho’s lips formed a straight line before he sat down on his knees. Without warning, he pulled up his shirt, exposing the skin underneath. You wanted to look away as he suddenly showed his bare skin, but the second your eyes found what he showed you, they just couldn’t look away.

Yunho had bruises and cuts all over his stomach, not to mention the bandaged part on his left side.

“He stabbed me.”

His eyes met yours, and he could only explain the look on your face as sheer terror. You put a hand over your mouth in shock.

“I can’t let that happen to you (Y/N). I just… can’t,” he whispered. “But I promise you (Y/N), one way or another, I will get you out of this place.”

“Yunho,” you called, looking into his intense eyes. “I won’t leave you behind, okay?” you told him, tears pooling in your eyes.

Yunho blinked, and then threw his arms around you. This time, he didn’t hold back his sobs as he collapsed in your arms.

next chapter

masterlist

help this is kinda long………… hope you enjoyed anyway!!!

(requests are opennn)

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

AS MY TREAT I WANT THE MOST SILLY, GOOFY AAA HCS OF THE PAPA'S.

Like idk Copia used to have to wear earplugs because Terzo snores so loudly it's literally obnoxious or something like that.

“aww my middle finger likes you”

❤︎ synopsis — this is pure bullshittery and crack in its finest form with the papas. they can be a little crazy at times

pairing: all papa emeritus’ x gn!reader (can be platonic or romantic)

theme: crack ✦ , fluff ✿ (if you squint)

a/n: this is a toast to my bestie for being an absolute chad. i was high making these, enjoy.

cw: terzo is a warning enough on his own. that’s it.

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

➵ papa primo

he’s the oldest so he constantly has to deal with the shit from his psychopathic brothers

like— primo is basically THE mom friend, except he’s the mom for moe, larry and curly over here

(moe, larry and curly being secondo, terzo and copia)

he constantly had to hold back secondo from beating the shit out of terzo because terzo made fun of him for being bald

“I’M GONNA RIP OFF YOUR WEAVE—“ “SECONDO NO—“

bro unironically listens to weezer

like full out busting down a just dance move to this music

you once caught him dancing to it, and he stood there frozen like the man emoji

he told you to never speak of it again and you just nodded, trying to plague your mind of that horrendous image

primo cannot cook for shit too btw

you were once out and asked him to make something before you got home to the ministry

the minute you walked in the door, the kitchen stove was on fire and all of primo’s ghouls were running around and screaming in infernal about the fire

meanwhile, primo stood there not knowing what to do, looking like the man emoji AGAIN

it’s basically his trademark at this point

“…. primo what the absolute fuck—“ “it wasn’t me i swear.”

while primo’s ghouls were still learning english, he once said “fuck you” to you in a very sarcastic way

but the ghouls thought it was how humans said “hello” in english

so they went around to the other siblings of sin, and sister imperator saying “fuck you” to them while leaving all those poor people offended and dumbfounded

you smacked the back of his head after that and forced him to apologize to his ghouls and to the siblings of sin (plus imperator of course)

and he gave the ghouls extra scritches too

primo also has the dad sneeze

like he can send another universe to the next tomorrow with his goofy ass sneeze

he once sneezed so loud he scared copia and caused him to bang his head on the wall

it was kinda funny tbh

anyways yeah note to self stay 10000 feet away from primo if he’s on the verge of sneezing

it’ll save your life

┅✦┅

➵ papa secondo

secondo has two moods

“oh my satan you’re all so stupid i literally hate you all” and “tee hee i’m a girly girl”

like ??? what’s this guy on???

this guy has the sass of a high school history teacher

like secondo’s being so deadass about whatever he’s saying but he’s always fucking saying it like—

“c’mon now, you literally have the style of a hairless roach 💅”

it confuses you a lot of the time, really

secondo has his moments where he’s sweet, but for the most part he’s pulling up the middle finger to everyone he sees

it’s a habit

someone could say hi to him in the nicest way possible and he’ll just grumble and flip them off

it’s not even that he’s trying to be mean, it’s a habit (a very bad habit)

you once got tired of it and smacked his hand, when he flipped you off. so it’s safe to say he no longer does it

at least to you

secondo is an absolute menace to his brothers

with primo he’s chill because he’s the eldest, but with the younger two he’s got no chill

definitely made copia cry at some point during his younger years

he later got his ass chewed out by you and primo, because no one makes copia cry

secondo’s literally so bossy it’s kinda funny

he’s always one flip flop away from smacking someone every time someone pisses him off

him and terzo are BEEFING all the time

and it’s over the stupidest shit too

“you’re stupid.” “well, you’re face is stupid” “you’re both stupid, end of the discussion.”

you once switched out all of his skull face paint for a pink barbie pallet

so secondo was walking around lookin’ like hello kitty emeritus and everyone was trying so hard not to laugh

even his ghouls were struggling too

“… secondo—“ “not. another. word.”

┅✦┅

➵ papa terzo

bro’s the fuckin’ definition of fruity

you thought secondo was girly pop?? wait ‘till you see terzo, he’s fucking extravagant

will literally show up in the grocery store lookin’ like a character ripped straight from criminal minds

like— he has to make a show EVERYWHERE he goes. he likes to stand out

terzo is also the type of man to wear skirts and dresses because he knows he’s hot shit and he devours every fit he puts together

he shows off that waist frfr

“… terzo what the fuck—“ “shut up you know i’m sexy and i’m going to show it.”

if you wear skirts or dresses he’ll definitely ask to borrow them

he definitely passed down his fruitiness to copia

and to his ghouls

he scams kids on adopt me and has a good laugh every time because he likes to see people get mad at him since he stole their hella expensive pet from them

primo told him to quit it because what kind of satanic pope scams poor little children on a roblox game?

as stylish as terzo is, he cannot do his hair and makeup to save his life

he’ll usually ask you to do it for him wherever he has to perform or do public events, which is why his face paint is simple compared to secondo and primo

it gives you two bonding time though and it’s cute

he once watched the pinkie pie smile hd video and was traumatized for a few days

like he straight up locked himself in his room and would not come out unless you convinced him to do so

during an after party after a concert ritual, he got so wasted and almost kissed omega

like you had to PRY this man off of the poor ghoul, while omega stood there unaffected (hehe tall buff demon boy)

terzo is the shortest emeritus and none of his brothers will let him live it down

ESPECIALLY copia, since he’s younger than him

terzo almost kicked him in the nuts because of that

but that definitely was a stab to his already massive ego

you reassured him that there’s nothing wrong with his height even though you found some of the jokes his brothers made funny

live laugh love terzo

┅✦┅

➵ papa copia

copia doesn’t know what he’s doing half of the time

like he’s just given a mic and he just wings a performance while the ghouls on stage are fucking around and going absolutely feral

out of all the papas, copia legitimately treats his ghouls like his own kids

he feels like he’s getting more grey hairs every time he has to stop swiss from fucking his own guitar, or sodo and phantom from fighting about cheese sticks

you sometimes help copia do ghoul-sitting and it’s just chaos. you’re literally their second parent

copia and you = parent duo for the era iv ghouls

he unironically owns a lot of funko pops

and he keeps the one of himself on a special pedestal in a glass case for safe keeping

though secondo almost once knocked over the case and he was three seconds away from smiting a bitch

you once were looking for copia because you wanted to ask him something and you found him in a ritual room

except the ritual was that he surrounded himself with a bunch of rat plushies and he was on his knees in front of a picture of a rat with a tiny crown

you were so confused, and he refuses to acknowledge what that was

“…. copia i—“ “you didn’t see anything.”

he fucking washes himself with dish soap and laundry detergent

this man is going around smelling like dawn dish soap and it’s so weird

it’s not that it even smells bad??? it just smells so interesting and strong you swear you’re in a fever dream

copia is an avid mitski fan

definitely cried his eyes out like a little bitch when he first listened to “the land is inhospitable and so are we” because he couldn’t get over how sad “my love mine all mine was”

radiates theater kid energy

but like— the kind of theater kid that is just passionate about theater and is very giddy when people ask about it

when he started his first meeting as papa he got so nervous that he straight up started the meeting with the word “mushroom”

like it’s so random ??? but it made the ghouls and you giggle so it somewhat worked out ??

copia is a little silly

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

[skateordiebitch]

baby fever with dom.. wouldn’t that be adorable!?!! i think he’d be absolutely delighted knowing that reader had a baby fever, cause he did too, the whole time they were dating.

FUTURE ROCKSTAR || D.F. x reader

summary: dominic has had baby fever since the moment he met you. after four years of him trying to throw you hints... you finally reveal that you do, too.

a/n: STOP THIS IS SO CUTE AAAA. and i personally don't even have baby fever!!! like why did this change my mind... and i literally just watched an interview with him saying how he wants two kids LMFAO. hope u guys enjoy!!!! <333

It started out as an ordinary afternoon. The two of you were sprawled on a picnic blanket in the park, the kind of lazy day Dominic cherished between his demanding schedules. 

He had insisted on bringing his guitar, though he only played random, lazy chords now and then, more for his own entertainment than yours. His guitar rested beside him, his fingers occasionally strumming, though he was far more invested in people-watching than playing.

You sat between his legs, leaning back against his chest with a sense of ease that came naturally after years together. The air smelled faintly of freshly cut grass, and the sounds of laughter and chatter from nearby families filled the park.

Dominic's chin rested lightly on your shoulder as you absently pointed out a little boy struggling to fly a kite. He grinned, watching the kid's determination as the kite kept dipping lower and lower to the ground.

Dominic’s voice rumbled in your ear, warm and amused. “Look at that determination. That kid’s gonna conquer the world someday.”

You snorted softly, your lips quirking into a smile. “Or he’s going to break his arm falling over that kite string.”

“Glass half empty, as always,” Dominic teased, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Come on, give the kid some credit.”

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes. “He’s persistent. I’ll give him that.”

But then, a little girl with curly pigtails and the kind of chubby cheeks that made your heart ache toddled past, clutching a stuffed bunny in one hand and a sippy cup in the other. 

She giggled, chasing after a stream of bubbles floating through the air, her delighted squeals cutting through the noise.

And then it happened—A soft sigh escaped your lips before you even realized it. It wasn’t intentional, but Dominic caught it instantly. He stiffened slightly behind you, then shifted so he could see your face.

It was soft, almost imperceptible, but Dominic heard it. 

Of course, he did.

“Uh-oh,” he said, amusement laced in his tone. “That’s the sound.”

“What sound?” you asked, eyes still glued to the little girl as she flopped down on the grass in a fit of giggles.

“The dreamy, baby-fever sigh,” Dominic teased, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ve been on high alert for it.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re ridiculous. That wasn’t a ‘baby-fever sigh.’ It was just… a normal, ‘Wow, that kid is cute’ kind of sigh.”

“Sure it was,” he said, smirking knowingly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You’ve been looking at every baby in this park like you’re imagining names for them.”

“I do not!” you protested, swatting at his arm.

“Oh, you totally do.” Dominic shifted, leaning his head back with a grin. “You’re mentally decorating nurseries.”

You tried to glare at him, but the warmth in his eyes disarmed you. “Dominic, I swear—”

“You lingered at the baby aisle in Target last week. Twice. Don’t think I didn’t see you checking out those tiny shoes.”

“They were cute shoes!” you defended, but your cheeks betrayed you, heating up with embarrassment.

“Exactly,” he said, his grin widening. “And now here you are, getting emotional over other people’s kids in public. It’s official. Baby fever has claimed you.”

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, throwing your hands up. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about it. A little.”

Dominic’s teasing stopped instantly. His smirk shifted into something softer, more genuine, as his eyes searched yours. “Wait. You’re serious?”

You looked down at your hands, suddenly shy. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it lately. Doesn’t mean I’m ready or anything. It’s just… I don’t know. Seeing families like this—it makes me wonder.”

Dominic’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. His entire face lit up like someone had just told him he won the lottery.

“Oh my God,” he said, grinning so wide it almost looked painful. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

You blinked at him, completely caught off guard. “Wait, why are you so excited? Aren’t you supposed to be the one freaking out?”

Dominic burst out laughing, running a hand through his hair. “Are you kidding? I’ve been on team baby fever for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

“What?” you said, your jaw dropping. “Years? Dominic, what are you talking about?”

He shrugged, unbothered by your disbelief. “I’ve been imagining us with kids since, like, forever. You think I didn’t picture a little version of you running around, bossing me around just like you do?”

“First of all, I do not boss you around,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “And second of all… what?”

“Oh, you totally boss me around,” he countered with a wink. “But, babe, I’ve been ready for this. I’ve had baby fever for years. I just didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Wait, years?” you repeated, staring at him. “How did I not know this?!"

“Because I’ve been playing it cool,” he said, looking entirely too proud of himself. “Imagine if we had a tiny human who inherited all your sass.”

You were speechless, staring at him as he continued. “Seriously, I’ve been dropping hints for months. Remember that onesie I showed you that said Future Rockstar? You just thought it was cute.”

“It was cute!” you protested.

Dominic laughed, shaking his head. “It was a test, you dummy. I wanted to see if you’d say something like, ‘That’d look great on our kid someday.’ But no, you just said, ‘Aw, your niece will love that.’”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I didn’t know I was being tested! I thought I was just shopping!”

“Well, now you know,” he teased, nudging your knee with his. “And when I made you hold my niece that one time? You looked like you were ready to steal her and take her home.”

“She was adorable!” you exclaimed, but now you were starting to connect the dots.

“And don’t even get me started on the time you cried during that diaper commercial,” he added with a smirk.

“That was an emotional ad, okay? I'm allowed to be emotional...” you said, your face burning. “Fine, you win. Maybe I do have a little baby fever.”

“A little?” Dominic repeated, laughing. He reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “If this is you with a little baby fever, I can’t wait to see full-blown baby fever. It’s gonna be adorable.”

You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.” Then, you gave him a suspicious look. “What other ‘tests’ have you been running without my knowledge?”

“Oh, you know,” Dominic said casually, leaning back on his hands, his grin sly. “Pointing out cute kids at restaurants, mentioning how good we are at keeping houseplants alive—although the one of them did die, so maybe don’t count that one—”

You smacked his shoulder lightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he corrected, leaning closer, his voice softening. “And ridiculously excited about the idea of us... you know, starting something bigger together someday.”

His sincerity disarmed you, the teasing giving way to a tender vulnerability that made your heart squeeze. “You really want that? A family with me?”

“Are you kidding?” Dominic’s gaze locked onto yours, his brown eyes warm and steady. “I can’t think of anything I’d want more. You’re my favorite person in the world, babe. I just didn’t want to push you before you were ready.”

Your throat tightened, a lump of emotion catching you off guard. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I thought... I don’t know, with your career and everything, you’d be too busy to even think about stuff like that.”

He scoffed lightly, pulling you closer until your forehead rested against his. “My career doesn’t mean anything if I don’t have someone to share it with. And if that someone happens to be you—and a couple of little brats we teach to love music and fight over who gets the last cookie—then yeah, I’d say I’m winning at life.”

You laughed softly, your hands curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you looked up at him. “Brats, huh?”

“Absolute terrors,” he said, his grin playful but his eyes still so soft. “But they’ll have your smile and your sass, so they’ll be perfect.”

Your chest felt warm, like your heart had been wrapped in a soft blanket. “Well, if they’re going to have my sass, then they’ll need your patience. God knows I have none.”

“Deal,” Dominic said, brushing a stray hair from your face. He grinned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Then it’s settled. Our kid’s gonna be the coolest, sassiest, most rockstar baby to ever exist.”

You laughed, your heart feeling lighter than it had in days. You didn’t have all the answers yet, but one thing was clear: whatever the future held, you wanted it with him.

[neverchecking]

Hi I am 🪷 Aron from couldninetonine

And I have a request for you if it ok.

Can I request yandere platonic sage , sky, time, warrior, four x child zoni reader.

Like the reader is rauru and queen Soni little baby half breed daughter. Half elf and half zoni. And they found her in her little bubble pod that a flower a lotus. And how they fell for her big doe eyes and big ears. And teaching her the ways and have her call them papa's and how they keep her safe. Please and thank you

omg hi! I love cloudninetonine! It is totally okay to request!

I haven't done a lot of platonic yandere, but this seems fun!

Imagine them calling the boys their papa bc her real dad is dead lmao-

・❥・@lovanmari and @wayfayrr I got some DILF Sage for yall

・❥・Sage as a dad. First off-- who in their right mind is trusting him with a kid?

・❥・Nah, I kid, I kid. When he's given a child, one so small and innocent and one that he connects with? It burns something within him.

・❥・He was a child soldier (I think canonically BOTW Link was in the army by age twelve?), and when he sees this small child who's relying on him? He swears they'd have a better life than he ever had.

・❥・He absolutely refuses to let his child anywhere near anything sharp, too hot, too cold, explosive, etc.. If there's any chance at injury, his flower bud isn't going anywhere near it.

・❥・You know that his kid is eating like royalty. Every single day. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. And dessert. And you know that dessert is the best damned thing in the world.

・❥・Sage as a dad is probably just as unhinged, but in more protective way? Lynel look in their direction? Here kid, look at this butterfly, Papa will be right back- He's back within three minutes tops and look! He's got the fur for a new blanket for you!

・❥・Cece tries pinching your cheeks? He's glaring down at her, daring her to try.

・❥・Someone tries offering you a treat because your just so adorable? He knows his kid is cute, nice try. Nothing is getting past him. He's a bit of a helicopter parent.

・❥・Not a bit. It's a lot.

・❥・He loves playing with your big ears, ones that you'll grow into, flopping them about even as you get red-cheeked and angry at him.

・❥・He'll make it up to you eventually :)

・❥・He also spoils you absolutely rotten. He has his rules, yes, and expects you to follow them, but his rewards are things like trips to the Zora Domain or a sand seal ride in Gerudo. Never Eldin. Are you kidding that's an active volcano site?!?!

・❥・The sages are one-thousand percent your personal body guards. You don't go anywhere without your dad and at least one sage.

・❥・Sky is absolutely smitten from the start.

・❥・You look at this man and tell me he's not dad shaped. You can't.

・❥・He doesn't even care to learn what a Zonai is. All he knows is there are none here and your all alone and your his now. He doesn't make the rules

・❥・He is also another protective dad, but he's a little more willing to let you experience the world around you. You wanna see those flowers over there? He's following! You wanna go for a dip in the river? Great idea, he's helping you! You can go explore, but never alone.

・❥・He absolutely introduces you to Crimson right away. Crimson is the perfect co-parent guardian. Crimson is always pulling you into her side, ruffling her feathers and grooming you.

・❥・Like you become Sky's kid and Crimson's chick. They are two halves of a whole soul so it makes sense.

・❥・HFHFDOFDHN imagine sleeping on Crimson's back while Sky leads the two of you through a forest or sum ;^;

・❥・Or soaring through the sky with you pointing at every cloud you pass and Sky harnessing you to his chest while Crimson flies much slower than normal.

・❥・Sky can cook basic things, but he definitely spends more time with village moms and elders learning more.

・❥・He for sure carves toys for you out of wood. Like trains or maybe a doll of Crimson.

・❥・You get the fluffiest blankets stuffed with Loftwing feathers

・❥・Groose is such a good uncle-sidebar. Even if Sky isn't...jazzed about letting you out of his sight, he will trust Groose. For an hour.

・❥・Which he is within earshot of for fifty seven minutes.

・❥・He's kind of torn between letting you be with Zelda-- who adores you-- and not. she's the reincarnate of Hylia. What if you get dragging into the wretched reincarnation curse as well?

・❥・He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy let alone his fletchling.

・❥・Fi for sure has a beacon on you at all times.

・❥・He's more...withdrawn when it comes to first meeting you

・❥・Afterall he's in a war.

・❥・but...so are you. And you are so much younger than he is.

・❥・and what self-respecting parent would let their child wander so far? None that deserve their child.

・❥・So you become his. He doesn't do take backsies.

・❥・When you stutter out that your old, irrelevant, unworthy father was a Zonai, he does take that with some caution.

・❥・But no one even knows what a Zonai is. Ravio has a general idea-- a race blessed by the gods-- but thats as far as he gets.

・❥・That's okay. You were his now and he didn't care what you were. You were perfect just the way you are <3

・❥・Wars as a dad is probably pretty strict. But he lets you out of his sight more than the previous two.

・❥・You get schooled and have friends, but are expected home right away.

・❥・He doesn't like your friends. Not a chance. But because he's such a public figure he needs to give you a semi normal life.

・❥・Which means those dumb friends and parent interventions and schooling and hours away when you could be spending time with him!?

・❥・He probably sneaks you out of school often to go for treats at a bakery or a swim in a river. What are they gonna do, tell the Hero no?!

・❥・Artemis loves you. He trusts her with you while he's dragged away for things he cannot control. She has the power of Sheik on her side and proved her worth to him in battle.

・❥・You definitely have a fairy on you at all times which reports back to him.

・❥・Fours is so fun for one reason and one reason alone.

・❥・the minish.

・❥・They probably are the ones to alert him about your presence, giving their small knowledge of the Zonai race.

・❥・They chirp and chitter at him until he brings you back to the home he shares with his grandpa (Uncle? It's one of the two). The older male was out at the moment leaving Four to figure out what he's going to do with you.

・❥・Obviously he keeps you. No one else can handle such a task! You're so delicate and so rare and the minish already love you.

・❥・So your his. no ifs ands or buts.

・❥・The forge? Off Limits.

・❥・It's too hot with too many sharp pointy things and open flames and its dirty.

・❥・Not for his kid.

・❥・When it comes to cooking, he can do it, but like sky, he's not overly good.

・❥・but! You guys can learn together. Under his strict supervision. Where you sit at the counter. Away from the fires and knives. It's a bonding experience.

・❥・Back to the minish, they love you. They love playing with you and calling your attention away while your dad deals with someone whose watching you a little too closely.

・❥・They leave small trinkets for you all the time! Which four keeps in a box. Because you could choke.

・❥・He's also another one to make your toys! Little metal horses and wooden doll houses.

・❥・If he needs to run out for a few errands or something, he's not leaving you with anyone. Oh no not his kid. No, he's splitting. Two stay with you, three depending on the errand, while the other runs out.

・❥・You aren't allowed the Four sword. Ever.

・❥・He would never wish that upon you. Even if you love the colors and it helps you differentiate between green and red and blue and Violet.

・❥・Thats probably how you learn some of your colors in fact.

・❥・Even as you grow up, you cannot get away with anything. The minish are snitches and it would do you good to learn that. And fast.

[eds6ngel]

✎ when i kissed the teacher | part two

summary: with the christmas fayre coming up, alena offers for steve to help run your stall with you. but, how will alone time between the two of you affect your ever-growing feelings for one another?

if you aren’t caught up on the story, read part one here!

warnings: dad!steve. singledad!steve. 90s!au. fem!reader. swearing. mutual pining. slow burn. fluff. angst. robin being a matchmaker. slight age gap [r is 24, steve is 29]. r has a breakdown towards the end. more warnings in future chapters! [4.2k].

Can a teacher date a student’s parent?

Can a teacher and a parent be romantically involved?

Is it okay to have a crush on a student’s parent?

Hours upon hours spent searching the highs and lows of Yahoo! just to be met with the same answers.

Wouldn’t encourage.

Not advised.

No.

“What are you still doing up? You have kids to teach from 8am tomorrow,” your roommate Amy says, you peering at the clock on the wall, it reading 11:47PM.

You groan and bury your face in your hands, letting the inevitable frustration take over your soul, “I thought this new search engine was meant to be reliable? It keeps giving me the same damn answers.”

The sound of running water floods your senses, Amy taking on the task to tackle the growing pile of dishes you’d left rotting in the sink from your evening meal. “I mean, does that mean it’s unreliable? Or is it just not giving you the answer you desire?”

You slam your laptop lid shut, resting your head on top of the heavy, black outer, buzzing your lips, “Maybe, I’m not right about everything.”

“No one’s right about everything honey, that’s just life. You’re letting the self-doubt flood your mind again,” she reminds you, your mind racing about the situation at hand.

You lean back in your chair, Amy coming over and massaging your shoulders, “I think it’s time for you to get some sleep. Take your mind off of things.”

You let out a deep breath, one you weren’t even aware you were holding in, “Yeah, probably for the best.”

You leave your laptop on the kitchen table, raising from your seat and dragging yourself to your bedroom. Throwing on your pyjamas, you head to the bathroom to complete your nightly skincare routine. However, the silence of the small apartment made your thoughts worse. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way, had these same exact questions. Although, there was nothing for him to worry about. He didn’t have the price of his whole entire job at stake.

By your own research, you also stumbled across articles of “breaching confidentiality,” which made sense to you. If you became a mother figure for one of your students, it would destroy the power dynamic. And with not many teaching roles available around the area, you couldn’t lose your one opportunity. An opportunity that you actually enjoyed.

You flop onto your bed, snuggle yourself underneath the silken sheets and try to let your mind wander into a weird dream that could never be explained. You needed a break before seeing his face again tomorrow.

The next two months felt like torture. Seeing his beautiful face, those gorgeous brown curls every morning and afternoon just made your crush on him intensify. And not only that, but Alena was improving in Math. He listened to you. Not only was he an extremely attractive guy, but he was also an amazing dad. The most deadliest combination of them all.

And you would also be lying if you said if you didn’t spend at least a few times a week scouring the internet for the answer you wanted to your question. However, with every new response, it just directed you further away from your desired answer.

“Thank you for being such wonderful, respectful and kind students today! I’m proud of each and every one of you,” you say, a smile plastered on your face. “Now, as you all know, the Christmas Fayre is coming up next week! You have all been working so hard on forming your chocolate boxes. But, I will need a volunteer to help me run our stall, and that volunteer I was hoping for would be in the form of one of your guys’ parents! So, if you could be so kind as to ask them—”

However, your request is cut short by Alena’s hand shooting up in the air, her practically bouncing in her crossed-legged position, “Yes, Alena?”

“My daddy will help!” she beams.

If there was anyone you hoped wouldn’t offer, it would be her. But, how could you deny? She was a six-year-old kid, you couldn’t just tell her no because you couldn’t cope around her father who you also so happened to have a crush on.

“That’s very nice of you to offer Alena, but wouldn’t it be wise to ask your daddy first just to see whether he can make it?”

“Oh, I know he’s free!” she says straightforwardly, “He finishes work at 1 on a Friday, all he does for the afternoon is sit at home!”

“Okay,” you breathe out, clapping your hands together, “Stev— Alena’s daddy it is! Don’t worry the rest of you, it’s all sorted now! Now, who wants to go home?”

A chorus of “Me!” can be heard from the voices of the children sitting on the rug, you walking over to the window to check what parents had arrived, and sure enough, Steve was standing there patiently waiting. You can’t help but give him a small smile as he looks at you, waving his hand.

God, stop acting like a teenage girl.

You look down and compose yourself, calling over to Alena and Harry, his mom also there ready to collect him. Alena bumbles over to you, giggling away at nothing as she cheesily grins. “Okay honey, off you go. Have a great weekend!”

Steve is smiling as his daughter runs up to him, causing him to slightly stumble back as she races into his legs and hugs them tightly, “Good afternoon to you too Missus! How was your day?” he asks, grabbing her hand and leading her out to the school parking lot.

“Sooo good!” she jumps, “I got all my math problems right!”

“That’s great pumpkin! That extra homework really helped out, didn’t it? Miss. L/N is a genius!” he beams to his daughter, trying to hide the fact that he was just complimenting your intellect as a human being, rather than just in your profession.

“Uh huh! And then me and Timmy played Hopscotch and I won, of course,” she says sassily, putting her hand to her chest, making Steve laugh. He was proud she inherited his confidence in a positive way, he couldn’t bear to see his own family turn out the way he did in his schooling career.

“Oh, did you? Was Timmy just not up to your level? Doesn’t have that Harrington magic?”

“Nope!” she shouts, popping the ‘P,’ “And then I got ten out of ten in my spelling bee! And we got to do lots of drawing as it’s Friday and Miss. L/N lets us have lots of fun on a Friday!”

“Sounds like you had a very busy day then!” Steve says, lifting her into the front seat and putting her seatbelt on for her. Alena waits to answer, kicking her feet in her seat as Steve situates himself in the driver’s side.

“Yeah! And then at the end of the day, Miss. L/N talked about the Christmas Fayre and I said you could help her out!”

Steve almost chokes on his own spit, spluttering out, “You said that I could help?”

“Yeah! You always talk about how lonely you are on a Friday without me, so I thought you could help her out!”

“That’s very nice of you to offer sweet-cheeks, but I thought I was taking you around the Christmas Fayre next Friday? That way I wouldn’t be lonely without you!” Steve says, trying to find any way out of the inevitable trap his daughter had put him in. It’s not like she understood, how could he blame her?

“But Miss. L/N really needs help daddy. Pleaseeeee! Auntie Robin could take me instead and I would still see you.”

He knew she was right. But, he may have found his one-way ticket out of the task, “But, sweetie, Robin works until two on a Friday, remember? She may be too busy.” She better be fucking busy.

“Can you just ask her daddy? Pleaseeeee!” she drags out, Steve caving into his daughter’s cuteness.

“Okay, okay,” he sighs out, “But, just keep in mind she may say no, okay?”

“Oh, I’d be happy to take her,” Robin smiles, Steve hearing the smirk in her tone through the receiver.

“Robin, that was a rhetorical question, I want you to say no. For the love of God say no,” Steve begs, knowing his best friend was fully aware of his crush on you. The countless hours of him both down the phone and in person rambling away about how beautiful you were, Robin soon picking up on the cues, and then her teasing him relentlessly about it was still going strong.

“Oh, poor Stevie can’t handle spending some time alone with his daughter’s teacher,” she whines dramatically, Steve rolling his eyes.

“I know you think you’re being funny Robin, but that is the exact mess I am in. How am I meant to stand there and run a fucking Christmas stall with her when she is the most gorgeous woman in the world?”

“You just gotta be yourself,” she laughs, telling him her signature advice, knowing that it has never helped him in the past.

“Stop with that bullshit Robin, you and I both know that neither of us have ever followed it,” he admits with a shake of his head, “Look, can’t you just say that you and Vickie have a date or something?”

“We’ve been together for eight years, Steve. You think we still plan weekly date nights? We’re almost thirty, you know,” Robin reminds him, the idea of the couple scheduling time out for romanticism seeming utterly ridiculous.

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he complains, ignoring the fact that he was one year away from hitting thirty, “Right, I’m gonna call in Lena, just make up some excuse please, okay? She’s six, she’ll believe literally anything.”

“Fine,” Robin agrees, “Your loss dude.”

After Steve shouts Alena’s name, she comes running in, feet pattering against the wooden floor, “Auntie Robin is on the phone, she has something to tell you,” Steve says, passing the phone down to her smaller height.

“Hello?”

“Hi Auntie Robin!”

“Yeah?”

“Really?”

“Thank you!”

“Okay, byeee!”

Steve notices Alena’s pitch get higher as each word was spoken, her attitude getting happier and happier. Robin had definitely told her the truth.

As Alena passes the phone back, Steve quietly thanks her as she patters back to her bedroom, him raising the phone back to his ear, “You told her you could take her, didn’t you?”

“Uh huh!” Robin cheerfully replies.

Steve shakes his head in annoyance, “I hate you.”

“I know.”

After you had gotten all the kids with their parents, it was time for you to tackle setting up the stall. As previously told, Robin had collected Alena and Steve should be arriving any minute. The school had already set up the tables for every class, so all you had to do was transport the chocolate boxes over to your designated table.

A faint knock can be heard on your classroom door as you spin around, Steve standing there sheepishly, waving to you.

You giggle to yourself, “You can come in, you know? We’re technically out of hours, you don’t need to stand around like a lost puppy.”

He puts his hands up in defense, making his way over to you, “Nothing wrong with some good old fashioned manners.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” you smile, “Thank you for coming by the way, Alena was persistent on you being the parent to help out.”

“If you think she was persistent here, you should’ve heard her in my car that afternoon: ‘Daddy please help out Miss. L/N, she really needs it,’” he says in a baby voice, upping his pitch to match the tone of his mini-me.

You laugh at his impression, “She’s a character, that’s for sure,” you reply, before explaining the situation, “Okay, so the kids made a bunch of chocolate boxes. I’m gonna sell them for $1.50 a box purely for the array of brands. My bank account is currently punishing me, but that’s okay.”

“Wait, you bought all the chocolate yourself?” Steve queries.

You sigh, “Yeah, but it’s no problem, really. It was a great way of combining learning with fun. As you can see, all the outside boxes are decorated differently, so it was good to factor in their knowledge of shapes along with some artsy work.”

“You know, if you asked the parents, I would’ve happily chipped in with a few bars of Hershey’s,” he honestly admits, copying you as you begin to pick up some of the chocolate boxes.

You shake your head, heading out of your classroom and down towards the main hall, “Honestly, it’s nothing. That’s the kind of thing you sacrifice for being a teacher. We’re underpaid as it is, our wages not factoring in this entire classroom decoration business, so $10 worth of chocolate bars wasn’t breaking the bank too much. Actual Christmas shopping is the real breaker,” you softly laugh.

There it was again: that kindness. You would do anything for those kids, anything to make them happy, to allow them to enjoy school. Even if it meant dipping into your own savings. That was admirable.

You arrive at your designated table, “Okay, so just line them up in a way that makes them easy to see. No need for any fancy order or anything,” you explain, “There’s thirty boxes altogether, so don’t spread them too far apart. The table is pretty small after all.”

“You got it,” he replies, laying out the items on the red cloth-covered table, as do you, before you both walk back to the classroom and repeat your actions.

Once you have completed your task, you take a seat on the chairs that the staff had so kindly laid out for you beforehand. You breathe out, “Now time to relax.”

Steve checks the watch perched on his left wrist, “What time does this thing start again?”

“2:30,” you tell him, further adding, “I got lucky in the sense that I only had to lay out these boxes. I know other grades made snowmen and other decorations, or fourth grade did the classic antiques stall where they get the kids to bring in old or unused items from home. And then, of course, we have our lovely outside visitors who are doing the raffle, hook a duck, stuff like that. We also have to give the cafeteria staff enough time to prepare food since this is going on until 5pm. Oh, that reminds me, I bet Alena didn’t tell you how long this was on for!”

He smiles, thinking to himself how you cute you were when you rambled, “I think you forget it was on the flyer you gave out to the kids.”

You laugh in an embarrassed manner, hiding your face behind your hands, “Sorry. I genuinely forget that sometimes you are just a parent of one of my students. Like, as I’m talking to you right now, it just feels like I’m talking to a regular guy, you know?”

He softly chuckles, “I understand. I mean, I always feel like I’m just talking to a pretty girl instead of my daughter’s teacher.”

You become rendered speechless. Did he just say what you thought he said?

“You… You think I’m pretty?” you tenderly question, making sure you weren’t living inside of your own fantasy world.

Steve fumbles over his words, “I, um…” before he shakes his head, “What the hell am I lying for? Uh, yes. Yes I do think you look… pretty.” He looks down at his lap, twiddling his own thumbs as he awaits the ultimate rejection. You can’t just say that stuff to her, no matter how much it’s true.

You blush at his compliment, internally thanking yourself that you weren’t imagining his feelings back, “Thank you… You look handsome too.”

She’s just saying it to be nice. She’s just saying it to be nice. She’s just saying it to be nice.

“Um… Thanks.”

But, now that it was reciprocated, you began burying yourself into a deeper hole: the questions. The questions answered no. You can’t date him. You could lose everything. You couldn’t lose your job over a stupid boy. A handsome boy. A nice boy. A kind, sweet… caring boy. Could you?

An hour into the event and half the chocolate boxes were already sold. You had been doing the same stall for the past two years, the idea coming to you your first year of teaching after talking to another teacher about Christmas gifts. But, it had never sold this fast. Although, you noticed by the body language of some parents that Steve’s charm and looks were playing a major part in the quick selling. But, he had charmed you, so who were you to judge?

You were out of earshot and attending to another customer as Robin and Alena approached the stall, Alena shouting, “Daddy!” Steve’s facing lighting up with delight.

“Hey pumpkin! How’s it been so far?”

She giggles and bounces in her spot, “Soooo good! Robin got me some candyfloss and I had a hot chocolate. But, I got too excited and burnt my mouth. But, it didn’t hurt too much and I drank the whole thing!”

“The sugars definitely had an effect on someone, hasn’t it?” he says, lifting his eyebrows at Robin, giving her an accusatory look.

She scoffs at him, “Give her a break, it’s Christmas. Plus, I think we have better things to be talking about,” she smirks, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He sighs, “She already called me handsome because my big ass mouth couldn’t shut up and told her that she looks pretty right to her face,” he mentally facepalms himself.

Robin grins at him, “Well, that’s perfect!”

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, are you kidding?” she asks, “She complimented you back after you complimented her. She literally reciprocated back. Girls don’t do that for no reason.”

“Robin, you don’t even like men.”

She looks at him dumbfounded, “Straights and lesbians aren’t that different, you dingus. We still react the same way when it comes to someone who likes us.”

“Whatever you say,” he replies, trying to ignore his best friend’s advice.

“I’m just saying, give it a shot,” she says, “At least if you get rejected, you can move on. I’ve had enough of you love-dumping about her down the phone.”

“Hey,” he points a finger at her, “This is payback for when you wouldn’t shut up about Vickie in your senior year.”

“And we’re still happily in love eight years later, so who’s the real loser here, Harrington?”

He rolls his eyes at her, Robin copying his action as you become free from the previous customer, tending to Alena.

Steve licks his lips as he thinks to himself: God, maybe Robin is right. What else has he got left to lose? A million girls rejected him during and after high school, that’s only another one to add to the never-ending list, right?

The event ended a little later than expected, a remaining two chocolate boxes left for you and Steve to carry back to your classroom, leaving the pot of money on the table for the staff to collect and count up.

“Thank you for helping out, you don’t understand how grateful I am. It’s much easier to sell products when there’s two people doing the convincing,” you say with a soft laugh to your tone.

He buzzes his lips and waves his hand, “It’s nothing, trust me. I would’ve been doing nothing all afternoon if I wasn’t here.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “Alena told me that last Friday.”

“She did?” he asks with a smile, you nodding along, “The cheeky little shit.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that when she said it. Like, damn girl, really outing your father’s loneliness like that,” you laugh, “Kids are so brutally honest, I love it.”

“Yeah, Alena’s definitely a straightforward kid, that’s for sure.”

A delicate smile crosses your face as you lift up a chocolate box to him, “For you.”

He takes it out of your hands, questioning, “Are you sure? You don’t need them for anything else?”

You shake your head sadly, “No. All the school does with unsold items is keep them in storage until next year or throw them in the trash. So, for food like this, it’ll get put in the trash unfortunately.”

He sighs solemnly, “That’s kind of sad, if I’m being honest. Like, there’s kids crafts here. Why throw it away?”

“That’s what I’ve always said!” you quietly shout, your voice small enough to not disturb the silent atmosphere, yet loudly projecting to show your agreement, “Like, you only get so many memories of the children that pass through this school, why discard them as simply as that? It’s like they don’t appreciate the kids personalities and only see them as future employees.” You sigh whilst shaking your head, shoving the remaining chocolate box into your own bag, slinging it over your shoulder, “Anyway, I should get going home. I’m sure you wanna go and see Alena too.”

“Wait!” Steve yells, the word spilling out of his mouth before he has time to compose himself. Just you standing there, you looked so beautiful. Your eyes so soft as they look up at him, lips slightly parted as if you wanted to question him, yet you let him continue. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah…” you breathe out, “Anything.”

Steve shakes his hands, trying to jitter the nerves out of his body. It was now or never.

“God… This is gonna sound so forward, and I’m sorry, but… Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

It was like a knife to the chest, you letting out a shaky breath as you clutched the binder and notebook in your arms, looking down at the floor as you swallowed. You really wanted to say yes. God, it was like a fire burning within you to say yes. But, you had to make a choice. This job was forever, who knew the long-term circumstances of the potential relationship? Was it really worth it to put your hard-earned degree in the background to focus on a love that might not even last?

And it’s not that you didn’t trust it to last, you had a feeling deep inside you that told you that he was the right person. But, there’s always the saying: Right person, wrong time.

“Steve, I… I can’t, I’m sorry,” you reply, trying not to let the tears fall as you explain your reasoning, “It’s not you, I promise it’s not, it’s just… confidentiality, you know? Because of Alena, if we became a couple, I could get accused of a lot of shit, potentially even lose my job. And I’ve worked a long time to get here, and I can’t be throwing it away for a relationship. I’m really sorry, but… Yeah, that’s why.”

You look up at him, his face telling that he was heartbroken, him wanting so desperately for the answer to be yes. He knew it, you were just being polite.

“Yeah, I get it,” he mumbles out, convinced that your reasoning was a cover up for your lack of attraction, “I get it…”

“Again, I’m sorr—”

He cuts you off, “It’s fine…”

You sigh out, “Well… I have to head home, it’s getting late,” you say, him nodding along, still not making any eye contact with you, “Have a good Christmas, Steve.”

“Yeah… You too,” he replies, you turning your back and heading out of your classroom, not returning for another two weeks.

You stormed out to the parking lot, the night sky covering over, the stars twinkling away as you throw your bag into the passenger seat. You slam your door shut, breathing out, the tears now falling down your cheeks as you hit your steering wheel forcefully, screaming out, “Stupid fucking bullshit rules!”

You pull your car out of park, reversing and steering out of the lot. You try to drive as carefully as you can, the rush of anger coursing through your blood making it extremely difficult to stick to the road safety rules you were taught at sixteen.

After arriving home five minutes earlier than normal, your bad energy keeping you slightly above the required speed limit, you unlock the front door to your apartment, Amy not expected to return home for another two hours.

You throw your keys and bag on the kitchen counter, grabbing your laptop and speeding to your room. You open up the lid and once again type in, ‘Can a teacher date a student’s parent?’

“Come on… Come on… Please, please!” you yell, your body shaking as you frantically search the web for the answer you so desperately require. There had to be some way around this. You couldn’t let this slip through your fingers.

Wouldn’t advise.

Strong discourage.

Do not do this.

Definitely no.

You scream as you throw your laptop away from you, crying out, “Just give me the fucking answer!”

But, that was the issue. That was the answer. No amount of wishful thinking would change that. You couldn’t date Steve Harrington.

everything got a little bit angsty towards the end, but that's what makes a good fic, right?

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 comment if you want to be added!!

→ next chapter.

[wnbawag]

Shit, That's Breanna Stewart Part 7

Pairing: Breanna Stewart x reader

Summary: While at UConn, senior physics major reader is required to take an extra class to complete her 'society' core requirement. When she picks 'Sports in Society', the last thing she expects to see on her first day is her basketball crush as her TA.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 882

Note: Sorry for the long wait!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

You were so close.

“Stewie please,” you moaned out.

As if on cue, Stewie pulled her fingers from between your legs.

She stopped manspreading, sat up in her chair.

With a smug glance at you, she picked up the pen you had dropped and put it back in your shaking hand.

“Okay pretty girl, next question,”

What the fuck was happening.

Stewie just basically felt you up for a few minutes, then went back to the exam like nothing happened.

You didn’t know how to feel, should you should acknowledge what the fuck just happened?

Stewie did not.

The two of you worked through the rest of the exam, you couldn’t seem to calm your trembling legs or shortness of breath every time she leaned in closer.

Finally, the exam was finished.

“Perfect, I’ll regrade this and you’ll be good to go. Thanks for coming by y/n,” She said with a smile, eyebrow quirking at you, almost like she was daring you to say something.

“Thank you again Stewie, I really appreciate you taking the time to help me,” you were somehow able to get out, regardless of how wet you felt under her stare.

“Anytime, pretty girl. Pay attention in class next time,” 

Embarrassed, you collected your stuff and shuffled out of her office.

If you had glanced back, you would’ve seen Stewie 1. Shamelessly checking you out and 2. Giving you a very very fond look.

—

Getting back to your apartment you felt … strange. You would’ve thought you would feel over the moon, I mean, your crush just felt you up. However, you felt … slightly used and weird. 

It ending so abruptly? None of this made sense.

Why would Stewie even touch you in the first place if she was just going to leave the job half done and kick you out right after.

Women!

You flopped down onto your bed, feeling frustrated and honestly a little hopeless. What was a girl to do in this situation?

Your stare happened to land on your open closet door, and inside, Stewie’s jersey.

Exactly.

If Stewie was going to feel you up and then kick you out, you were going to make sure she noticed you in her next class.

She couldn’t ignore you in that.

—

It was Monday and you were strutting into Stewie’s classroom. If that woman wanted to feel you up and then kick you out? You were going to wear something she wouldn’t ignore you in.

What exactly would that be?

Why her jersey of course.

Just her jersey.

The jersey you owned went just enough past your ass that it was appropriate. Barely. 

You made sure you timed it so you were just a little bit late.

As you walked through the door, Stewie had started talking and paused as the door to the lecture hall opened, her mouth falling open at the sight of you.

“I’m so sorry Miss Stewart, I got a little … held up,” You batted your eyelashes and gave her a sweet, innocent smile.

“It’s fine, just please go to your seat,” Stewie stammered out, eyes following you up the stairs and to your seat.

The entire lecture, Stewie would tear her eyes from you, only to have them wander back and find that you hadn’t broken eye contact once. 

For once, you felt like you had the upper hand in this situation, watching Stewie be visibly uncomfortable every time she met your stare.

Luckily for Stewie, the class came to a close, but not before she gave a very interesting announcement.

“Before I let you all go I just wanted to announce that while the majority of you are doing wonderfully, there are a few of you who could use some … extra help,” Her eyes rested on yours while she emphasized the last two words.

“I encourage those of you who are struggling to please, come talk to me so we can set up some time for extra help, don’t let your grade suffer,” Her stare stayed on yours as she finished her sentence.

Oh.

Okay Stewie.

Two can play it that way.

—

You intentionally took your time packing up your bag, the lecture hall was long empty by the time you made your way down the steps to a visibly frustrated Stewie.

“Miss Stewart,”

“Y/n,”

You gave her another overly sweet smile, tossing a piece of hair behind your shoulders and looking up at her through your long eyelashes.

“Your course has been so very hard for me, is there any way you could give me some extra help?” You reached out and put a hand around her bicep, immediately feeling her tense under her button down shirt. Her jaw clenched as she looked down on you, the height difference affecting both of you in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You shifted your other arm just enough to make your cleavage pop, seeing it on Stewie’s face the moment she realized she was staring down your shirt … her jersey.

“You’re being a little shit, you know that?” Her New York accent was thick, her voice laced with frustration.

“I don’t know what you mean, I just need some help with the content. I just haven’t been able to handle you - your content I mean,” Your voice had dropped so much it was basically a moan.

That was the breaking point for Stewie.

She grabbed her bag, snatched your backpack off your back and flung it over her shoulder and fixed you with a piercing stare.

“Follow me, keep up,” 

And with that, she strided out of the lecture hall.

[becauseplot]

Inktordem time :D Fluffier nonsense to make up for yesterday I promise. I’m using one of the prompts on a list of alt prompts @factorialsotherfandoms and I came up with. This word is one of his! The “alienígenas” prompt will go on the alt list in case I think of anything later down the line and want to use it.

Spoilers for basic OPD episode 1 stuff.

DAY 6 (ALT) — BELLS

It’s one of those rare lulls where reports of suspected paranormal activity have slowed down. As such Kaiser doesn’t have to spend his time in the computer room at base playing IT for investigation teams or helping put out fires when things go sideways. He’s done nothing but work on improving CRIS’ Twitter sweeping algorithm for the past two days.

Arthur came into the computer room at the Order about an hour ago and dragged Kaiser home, saying he and Ivete were planning on making a late lunch soon and yeah, Kaiser should probably have something other than takeout.

It is nice being home. Ivete threw on some talk show for background noise while she and Arthur sort out their ingredients, and Kaiser is flopped over the couch, letting the noise wash over him. He can feel how about every joint from his neck to his hips is decompressing after he’s spent so long hunched at his computer. It’s good. Here, at home, without the constant anxiety of being needed by the Order turning his nerves to live wires, Kaiser can finally do something like relax. The TV is droning in the background, Ivete and Arthur are murmuring to each other in the kitchen, filling pots with water, chopping things, and Kaiser is…

He’s…

Tired…

…and theRE IS SOMETHING ON HIS BACKHOLYSHIT—

“AI!”

“MEROW!”

Kaiser slams himself up on his elbows and kicks away, gasping. “What the f…”

Sitting up now, he just barely catches a glimpse of a black and white spotted tail disappearing over the arm of the couch.

“Kaiser?”

His eyes flick to the kitchen. Ivete and Arthur are staring at him.

“Are you alright?” Ivete asks. There’s a confused smile on her lips.

“I…” Kaiser watches Jennifer hop up onto one of the barstools, staring at him with her tail flicking. He swallows his heart back down his throat. “Yeah, jeez, I—I think Jennifer crawled on my back and it scared me.”

“Jennifer scared you?” Arthur says, laughter in his voice.

“Dude I was nearly asleep. I didn’t hear her coming.” Kaiser groans, scrubbing his faces up and down. “Holy shit, that got me. I swear my soul nearly left my body.”

“Mm, she’s lucky she’s quick,” Ivete notes, returning to her chopping. “You just about launched her clear across the couch, boy. That poor thing.”

“Poor her? Poor me!” Ivete is grinning now. “I’m the one who nearly died over here.”

“Hey, you know she’s skittish,” Arthur defends. “You really could’ve scared her.”

“Ugh!” Kaiser flops back onto the couch. “Fine! I’m sorry Jennifer! When’s food ready?”

“Twenty-five minutes” Ivete replies. “Twenty if you want to come in here and help with the chopping.”

Kaiser sighs. He might as well, seeing as he’s very awake now. Kaiser mourns the loss of his afternoon nap and gets off the couch.

~*~

“So we finally got the table re-assembled,” Arthur says, adjusting the guitar in his lap. “And well, that was a lot of work, obviously, but Marcos was still determined to have a game of pool tonight regardless.”

“But the pool balls hadn’t come in, right?” Kaiser asks. He’s got half his brain on this match of online chess, and it’s honestly going terribly, but he’s doing what he can. Sort of.

“Well, turns out it had changed from ‘delayed’ to ‘failed’. The order got lost somewhere, apparently.”

Kaiser scoffs. “How does that happen?”

“Don’t know! But it did. So Marcus of course is already looking up places where we can go buy them, and we find a games store down the street that has them—but it’s closing in about ten minutes.”

“Oh no,” Kaiser drawls. He hears Arthur that another cord on his guitar, fingers plucking idly, and watches him shift where he’s sitting on Kaiser’s bed. Kaiser puts his rook forward. “Because of course it’s closing.”

“Exactly. And the store isn’t far, but it’s far enough, and traffic is bad at that hour, you know?”

Kaiser watches the opponent take his bishop. Ah shit. He moves his pawn. “Soooo you ran.”

“Yep!” Kaiser snorts. “Sprinted all the way down the street, Marcus nearly got run over. It was great.”

“And did you—“ Check on his king. “Oops.”

“What?”

“Hold on I’m losing.” Kaiser moves his queen forward and knocks out their rook. Out of check. “So did you get there in time?”

“Well, kind of? The guy who owns the place was literally walking out when we got there. But then we started explaining—completely out of breath, to be clear—and the guy was so, uh, amused? With our sheer determination to play pool tonight that he let us in and sold us a set, with the long sticks too.”

“Well, that’s cool of him.” A little more out of check now. His opponent is really taking his time. Kaiser skims over the chess board for his options. “I’m glad Marcus didn’t get hit by a car, that would have WOAH—“

Kaiser jumps when he feels something touch his leg and slams his knee up into the top of the desk.

“Kaiser?”

“Ow ow ow ow—“ Kaiser hisses and rubs his knee with his hand. Fuck, he wasn’t even wearing his long pajama bottoms this time, ow.

“Mrow!” Jennifer slinks out from under his desk and jumps up onto Kaiser’s bed, padding over to Arthur.

“Shit,” Kaiser exhales. “She was under my chair. Brushed up against my leg and scared the shit out of me.”

“Oh yeah she just came in,” Arthur says, waving his hand at the bedroom door behind Kaiser. “Guess you didn’t hear her.”

Kaiser keeps rubbing his aching knee. “Man, she is always doing that. I swear she’s a ghost…”

Arthur puts his guitar aside to free up his lap, which Jennifer immediately crawls into and curls up in. “Awww sorry, baby,” Arthur murmurs. “Did Kaiser kick you?”

“I didn’t kick her.”

“Hm?” Arthur scratches her behind her ears. She leans into it, eyes closed. “Poor baby. He’s so mean, huh?”

“What.”

“You just want him to like you, right?”

“What the fuck.”

“Kaiser, why are you so mean to her?”

“I’m not mean to her! She just keeps giving me heart attacks!”

Arthur bends his head down, kissing her head and grinning. “I know, he’s so rude like that, isn’t he?”

Kaiser slumps back in his chair. “I can’t believe this.” Opponent’s queen towards his king. Checkmate. “Fuck.”

~*~

Fixing his sleep schedule, Kaiser has found, is a completely pointless endeavor when he knows that his work at the Order and his own habits will just upend it again within forty-eight hours.

Playing LoL at night while hungry, Kaiser has also found, is a good way to get angry and shout something and accidentally wake up the household because hey, he lives with other people now. And he’d much rather not do that.

Hence, the creation of 3 am cheese time.

Kaiser slips out of his room and tiptoes over to the kitchen. He slides in and navigates around the counter by touch and the dim glare of a distant streetlight through the window. With one hand braced on the side of the fridge, he eeeeeases the door open and nudges some containers aside.

Bag of cheese slices. Bingo. Kaiser holds the fridge door open with his hip and opens the package, peels out a slice of cheese, folds it up and half-shoves it in his mouth. Then, he closes the package, seals it up, leans out of the fridge, and closes the doo—

Two eyes staring at him in the darkness.

Kaiser gasps and inhales cheese. He chokes and spits and covers his loud coughing with his arm, eyes watering, what the fuck…

“Mrow!”

Oh you’re kidding.

There, sitting on the counter, eyes reflecting the light from the fridge, is Jennifer.

Kaiser coughs one last time and swallows roughly, panting. “When did you even get in here??” he hisses.

Jennifer tilts her head at him. She jumps down from the counter, silent as a shadow, and starts sniffing at the cheese he spit out onto the ground. After a moment, she nibbles it.

Kaiser stares at her. “Yeah you know what. Fine. You can have it.” Kaiser closes the fridge and heads off to bed.

~*~

Kaiser unlocks the door and shoulders it open, grocery back in his other hand. “Hey, I’m back!”

“Hey!” Arthur calls in the living room, waving from the couch. “You took a while, what happened?”

“Had to make an extra stop.” Kaiser hefts the grocery bag onto the counter. “Is Jennifer with you?”

“Uh yeah, she’s right here. Why?”

Kaiser pulls a little paper parcel out of the bag. He heads over to the couch and plonks himself down, right next to Jennifer, who “mrrp!”s unpleasantly at the disturbance.

He opens the package. A tinkling noise rings out. Kaiser unclips Jennifer’s collar and fastens on a new one—pink, with a little bow and a bell dangling on the end of it.