#i swear to god if this show is what finally breaks my writer's block i will write neil gaiman a physical letter of gratitude

[actual-changeling]

Crowley remembers the nightingales just as well as he remembers the look in Aziraphale's eyes that afternoon at the Ritz. The champagne flute had been weightless in his hand, his limbs were kept afloat by almost ethereal relief and brightly burning hope. After six thousand years of running and hiding, after a tense decade of trying to stop the end of the world and ultimately succeeding, no thanks to Above or Below, they could finally stand still.

They had been granted a chance to catch up with each other.

Sure, maybe he still went a little too fast for him, and there is something to be said about the unsaid hanging between them, but both of these were topics reserved for another time.

Their glasses had clinked with the softly floating sound of a bell, a miracle manifesting itself simply to deepen the smile on Aziraphale's face, and their voices were laced with something old reborn.

To the world, Crowley had said, his lips tingling with the words even now as tears sting in his eyes.

To the world, Aziraphale had responded in kind, the emphasis on world taking a shape not unfamiliar to his name, his essence.

Relief and hope both paled compared to the surge of affection crashing through his system, and when Aziraphale's hand found his within minutes, the world had narrowed and expanded to the infinite space left between them.

It's funny how things change, how an entire universe built with traded miracles and silent promises can break apart without making a single sound.

Whatever world they had blessed under the song of a nightingale disappears behind the darkened shades of his glasses, and deep in his mind, an eons-old memory stirs. Crowley stills the bell ringing behind him and coats himself in the remembered cold emptiness of space, the one thing that has never changed and will never change - loneliness.

[misscherrys-world]

Hi! Could I request a hurt/comfort story where reader soothes and reassures Kit in the asylum after he is feeling really broken and where he vents and finally lets himself cry to her?

Sure thing, love! Sorry for making you wait this long I was thinking about an idea and I had a writer block.

Kit Walker x Fem!Reader.

𝔐𝔶 𝔭𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔴:

I walked into the lobby of the asylum hearing the same irritating noise “Dominique” I wanted to break this record and the music box. I forgot to tell you dear listeners.. I was committed into this asylum because I got “severe” anger issues.. which is completely false, I say people are just being too rude and stupid. Except for one..

𝓀𝒾𝓉... Kit is new here, since he got in I think he would be all over the place, he seemed very nice but.. on the contrary, he was distant and was kept inside himself. I watched him few days before I reached him. I asked him politely “Can I sit with you?” He looked at me and nodded.

The second day, he offered me a cigarette. I think he likes me too, why else would he give me a cigarette, hmm? Everyone accuses him of committing crimes and murder his wife along with other women. I didn’t care if this was true, I liked him that way.

On the third day, he wasn’t here. I felt betrayed. How could he not show up! It started to irritate me. The day passed and I waited with no use. He didn’t show up. Did he find someone else? Didn’t he like me? I thought we had something special!

On the fourth day, it was a rainy day I really don’t know what month are we in. It’s when I saw him sitting alone in a chair at the very dark corner of the room. I walked closer to him anger boiling inside of me.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!” I said harshly. He looked up at me with glossy eyes and red nose and lips. “I’m sorry..” is all he said. I looked at his frame, he was shaking and hurting, something is wrong. “Oh god.. don’t tell me they shocked you too..” I said softly. He shook his head and I frowned. “Worst..” with his word he blew up in tears. My heart sank at the sight of his tears. “Kit.. shh it’s okay.. hey.. it’s okay.” I kneeled before him and caressed his hands and thigh. “I’m here with you, Kit” I said assuring him that I’m by his side.

“I didn’t kill anyone I swear I would never lay a finger on a woman.” He said between sobs. “It was the alien I swear.. the aliens abducted my wife and I- I didn’t I..” he broke down even more. I pulled him into a hug comforting him.

“You.. You believe m-me.. don’t you..?” I patted his head as I said “everything is possible, Kit”. I continued stroking his back “What is important now.. is you didn’t do anything wrong, you’re innocent. Everyone here is, Kit. The real monsters are on the outside.” He continues sobbing. “They broke you down.. they broke all of us down.. but it’s okay.. I’m here. We have each other now.”

He looked up at me. He looked like an angel. A wounded angel. And I felt like a Goddess who was tending his wounds tenderly. Such a beautiful creature.. Kit Walker, you are mine.

[whinlatter]

author's note | chapter 12: scarecrow🪞

thank you soooo much for reading chapter 12 of beasts. january was long for all of us, but january 1999 was especially long for the worried youngest weasley, stomping around in the highlands snow going through that all too common and deeply humiliating experience: trying to get a text back from a man. embarrassing! pls know the response to this chapter has knocked my socks off and as a thank you i have given you many unsolicited words on mirrors, weird latin names, and thestral erections. to paraphrase movie molly weasley... just what you all wanted, actually! (plus the smallest of sneak peeks at chapter 13)...

✨ spoilers for this chapter below the cut  ✨

writing notes and headcanons:

curse you/bless you chapter 12: my god this chapter took SO long to figure out. not just because of real life ramp up (cheers again for being patient legends with this), but just because i couldn’t for the life of me decide how to structure or pace it, kept writing scenes then scrapping them or deciding to keep them for later then repeating that ad infinitum. it had about five different opening scenes til i figured out how it needed to start. i know a lot of fic writers will have discovered this long before i did, but it’s such hard work when you know what the arc of a chapter should be, what the main plot points that need to happen are, where the emotional beats should come, but need to actually write a lot of building-block scenes to create that sense of pace and mood to build up to the important scenes, as well as also weaving together plot-threads that need to happen at this point in the fic in order to set up the later stages. this is how i learned that writing a service/‘turning point’ chapter (and this is, in many ways, a turning point chapter for a lot of different plots) is really really hard. part of the trouble is that to earn the relief and the dam breaking you have to write so many little scenes to create a sense of build up, and because those scenes are sort of service-scenes it’s so easy for them to be boring to write and, usually, boring to read. some realisations about what needed to happen happened way too late (there were no governors in this chapter as of like january 28th lmao. i was out on a walk and swear i stopped dead on the path when i remembered that the governors exist and i could use em to start to add the state in a more meaningful way, and especially the encroachment of the outside world on the castle.) when i posted i was feeling VERY uncertain about the chapter and just wanted it to be out so i could move on from it so honestly the response to it has been like the biggest loveliest shock ever. thanks forever lads. the gems i've been left in the comment section and the askbox will stay with me for a long time.

mirrors: this chapter is structured around the idea of the mirror (sylvia getting us going with the poem, sorry you ended up kicking off a chapter in a harry potter fanfiction mate). it begins with little ginny unable to look herself in the eye in the leaky cauldron’s talking mirror (that freaks her out - where does the mirror keep its brain?). it ends with ginny holding the two-way mirror, looking her own reflection, then watching it fade into harry’s as the two of them finally speak and connect after starting, for the first time, to be properly honest with each other. partly this is me wanting ginny to have a different way to talk to harry, something more honest that doesn’t let her cultivate or craft false versions of her days in letters but actually speak face-to-face much more honestly, and that is harry showing he gets that writing is a more loaded act for ginny than it might be for others. but what i hoped to convey was the idea that the mirror has other significance. the mirror is such an important image and device in harry potter - the mirror of erised, that shows you who you truly are and what you really want; the chipped mirror in the girls’ bathroom that leads to the chamber of secrets, where malfoy will later break down when called upon to do crimes he can’t bear to (plus hermione carrying one to look around corners with the basilisk); the foe glass mirror that shows you when your enemies are close; the two-way mirror itself, the item with the most tragic irony (a lifeline to sirius harry doesn't use to devastating consequences, the portal to malfoy manor that saves the day and costs dobby his life) etc. “what do you see when you look in the mirror?” - it's a line dumbledore first utters in PoS, and that comes back in DH, when harry is grappling with the idea that dumbledore might have lied to him about the answer (the socks are convincing nobody). it’s such a good mission statement for some of the themes that run through the series at large: who are we, really, what is the contents of our soul, who will we be (it is our choices that define us etc). harry potter as a series is also full of mirrors in its structure (see this on the books as mirror pairs), and narrative mirrors are a really important device in characterisation (most of all harry/TMR, the two orphans, but also sirius and snape, ron and draco etc). like most female characters in the series, ginny’s narrative mirror is a bit underdeveloped, but it does really seem to be bellatrix, the narration drawing them into association on multiple occasions to compare and contrast them as characters. (hermione’s is like - what, pansy? develop female characters jkr i beg). canon romantic pairings don't get to be properly fleshed out mirrors of each other, in part because they're a) all het pairings and b) het pairingswhere the female character is either excessively idealised and/or underwritten. it's fic writers' job to problematise, unpack and challenge basically errrrrr all of that. to that end, then...

hinny & mirrors: … what i wanted to suggest is that part of what makes hinny so compelling is the idea that harry and ginny at times come as close as being mirrors of each other of the canon ships, in ways that hinny writers can play with/tease out/develop as a canon coherent choice. i’ve talked previously about how we might see sirius and ginny as narrative mirrors in some ways. but i think harry and ginny are mirror characters too, to some extent. it's not just that they're extremely similar. the harry and ginny plotline as rendered in the series starts to happen the moment ginny starts being herself in ootp, and the two of them are able to see each other clearly and see themselves in the other person. there’s also a reason HBP and CoS are the mirror image books by design, harry and ginny literally paralleling each other with the prince’s book and the diary etc. even their respective journey to their own death mirrors the other person's. playing with the mirror as the item that brings harry and ginny back together after their conflict is therefore me doing a bit of a wink and a nod to this idea: harry and ginny on this journey to seeing themselves as equals, as two sides of a coin. the mirror as a device inherently invites character to see themselves clearly, and, in the case of a two-way mirror, invites the character to consider who they see themselves in, who is their reflection, who is their opposite number. ginny finding her way to a mirror where she can both see her own face and yet also call on harry's is a big moment for her starting to think about who she is, what she wants, and also start to grapple with how she feels about her own selfhood, her soul, her morality, her past. on harry’s part, him mending the mirrors and starting to use them - the mirrors he vowed he would never use with sirius, and that are so connected to his guilt over sirius’ death - is such an important step. it’s (literally) him picking up the pieces and rebuilding the mirror and his connection to another person he sees as his family, moving past his grief and guilt to try to see and be seen more clearly by the person he loves. we know when harry potter looks into the mirror of erised, he sees his family: here we have harry, having come a long way in having to confront, acknowledge, unpack and apologise for some of what he’s asked of ginny over the years, lifting up the mirror given to him by his dead family member and seeing his new family, the family of his future.

on the break up that wasn't... two months of getting the nicest most polite threats in the inbox if i broke harry and ginny up… lads. i would never! the scarecrow of the chapter title is partly a reference to ginny's fears - the inquiry, the forest - but ultimately about her relationship with harry, which she fears is in jeopardy - a fear that, ultimately, turns out to be baseless. part of my point in the hinny plot for this fic is to write a version of them that sees them growing up, and especially growing up together, not burning things down or being emotionally immature and dramatic, but doing the quiet boring grown-up work of learning to become a team, and learning it together. break-up plotlines can work beautifully (and i will always devour them), but i knew it wasn’t going to be a part of this fic as i imagined it. i wanted these two burn-it-all-down impulsive characters not to go for the nuclear option, which they might do in other relationships in their lives, and instead do something arguably harder: commit to doing thinking and reflecting and owning up to where they’ve both gone wrong along the way, because they care about what they’re building between them. there are all sorts of general writing love stories manifesto issues in this for me (people can grow and change and learn when they’re in healthy relationships, the only catalyst for growth in a relationship doesn’t have to be a breakup, female centric dramatic arcs don’t have to be break-up centred even though lots of brilliant ones are). but there are also some hinny specific points i wanted to make. the main one is that one of the things i like most about harry and ginny as a couple is that in canon their drama is largely external to their relationship. they’re just two people who properly like each other, get each other, bring out the best in each other, want to hang out and build something together, despite all they’ve been through. they're two characters that canonically just want to hang out and talk to each other, in a really nice way but also, i think, quite a healthy way too that would see them in good stead in their conflicts. post war hinny absolutely have issues and blindspots and skewed dynamics to confront. they have things to learn and they are going to fuck up (harry hurry up ya thinkin and write her back you dickhead). but it’s my view that they’re not going to have a big dramatic screaming breakup, they’re going to muddle through and figure it out, because what’s true about hinny is that it’s a ship where its two participants are emotionally mature, kind to each other, and ultimately constructive even when they aren’t always with other characters lol. that's my two cents anyway!

quidditch: this WAS in this chapter originally and then it got shunted to chapter 13. partly because this chapter had far too many plots already but also (i think) it’ll make more sense there for lots of juicy reasons. so that’s why you have that cop out line at the start about quidditch practices being on pause x because the author can’t juggle very many balls at once :)

death eater recruitment, or: why are young people drawn to dark magic? what i wanted in this chapter was to have a political flashpoint that kingsley, the politician, can use as a catalyst for the thing he really wants, which is an inquiry into hogwarts, as a microcosm of the wider wizarding world and the symbol of its future. the inquiry should happen, but, in reality, it would take political will to make it happen. it was important for me to have the catalyst for the inquiry be something that would really galvanise and piss off the DA, namely why does everyone care so much about the kids they hate getting involved in violent blood supremacist politics and not care about the victims of death eater hate. of course, the DA are understandably fuming: they suffered so much for fighting against death eaters, and they want their story of persecution and of resistance to be told. but the elephant in the room, and what's awkward in these little moments of right-wing talking points on the wireless or in the press or parents of death eater children pleading for understanding is that, actually, there is quite an important question at play here, which is, wait why would a fourteen year old kid or whatever want to go out and kill muggles? isn't that fucked up? how much agency do we give them? when is it grooming, when is it someone being actively hoodwinked (including the possibility of the imperius curse), and when is it an active choice of intent that deserves punishment? didn't all of that recruitment of young people for extremist politics happen before the war? aren't there child soldiers on both sides of this conflict, and if so, is that ok? how did that happen? these are uncomfortable questions that defy easy answers. they're questions that will sharpen and take on new life in the form of the inquiry for our protagonist and for the DA and resistance as a whole. i am so so excited to develop it let me tell ya!

the governors thinking ginny is dead: this - bleakly - is canon! in CoS, the governors think ginny has already died, that’s why they ask dumbledore to come back. (“Well, you see, Lucius,” said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, “the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They’d heard that Arthur Weasley’s daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once...") wouldn't dumbledore correct them when ginny was out of the chamber? a question for future chapters...

what's in a name: wouldn't be hp worldbuilding without trying to come up with some good latin and/or greek names to hint at character traits. this chapter we had to stick in a load of minor new characters (human and otherwise), so to google we went. we have benignus tuft, the governor - benignus giving us benign, so someone who is at best harmless and mild, but at worst ineffective and sort of useless. we have another governor, coelamus (koelemos), minor deity or spirit, god of stupidity and foolishness (of course ginny isn't dead you idiot). for the thestrals, we know hagrid named one of them, his favourite in canon, who is called tenebrus, like tenebrous, in english, meaning shadowy or obscure (from the latin tenebrae, meaning darkness). so the other thestrals got their names on a similar theme: caligo (darkness, fog, mist) anima (in some variations, the soul), and umbra (shadow). umbra's got a little deathly bun in the oven, which is going to need a name, too - much like a certain owl...

thestrals: the worldbuilding around thestral and thestral breeding was maybe the most fun but strangest part of this chapter to write (i googled a lot of stuff about horse pregnancy and birth and saw images i do not wish to see again). i will thank david yates for giving me the idea and then go back to never thanking him ever again. in canon, we know the thestrals live in the forest and that ginny is familiar with their habits as early as ootp, long before she's able to see them ('because in case you hadn’t noticed, you and hermione are both covered in blood,' she said coolly, 'and we know hagrid lures thestrals with raw meat, so that’s probably why these two turned up in the first place…', in ootp) the only thing we know about the hogwarts' thestrals' origins is dean thomas accidentally insulting firenze ("did hagrid breed you, like the thestrals?”). this is hardly concrete knowledge or evidence, so in this chapter i wanted to play with the idea of hagrid quite readily admitting he doesn't really know how thestrals come to breed, part of these magical mysteries of the natural world that are beyond wizarding knowledge. we do know, though, that thestrals have some connection with death, especially to bearing witness and processing it. i think they're one of the most intriguing and poignant images in canon (retconning over their visibility aside, joanne), and i'm excited for the plot that explores these themes and ideas as the different plots start to wind together. (a spoilery clue for ya: hagrid mentions time periods where the thestral herd has previously grown... thank you to @saintsenara, the real unsung hero/brains behind the operation, who puts up with all of my inane questions and thinking at her and always proves enormously and generously helpful, especially in this instance with some crucial date deets). also i took out a joke about thestral erections because it wasn't the vibe and i think we can all agree that is for the best.

songs from the playlist for these chapters:

had to wap out the celtic vibes on at least one song now we're back in the castle ya feel! neko case, herself a ginger goddess, has provided too many great songs for inspo for this fic and one of my favourite's of hers is in this week's batch (the most tender place in my heart is for strangers/i know it's unkind but my own kind is much too dangerous). the hinny songs for this week are star by mitski (that love is like a star, it's gone/we just see it shining/it's traveled very far/i'll keep a leftover light burning/so you can keep looking up/isn't that worth holding on?) and comrade sweetheart by my beloved bonny light horseman/anaïs mitchell (who's going to bind up your wounds? who when the wildflowers bloom? no other lover but you... in the dusk of my days.) it's about the blessing of time, the hinny DH parting gift! hours and days and maybe years baby!

underwater by the national | tuttle's reel by lorkin o'reilly | hold on, hold on by neko case | comrade sweetheart by bonny light horseman | me & my dog by boygenius | coolest fucking bitch in town by haley blais | star by mitski

and a wee sneak peek of chapter 13... (the inevitable line now harry and ginny basically have wizard facetime):

'Gin. For fuck's sake. Stop. Dropping. The mirror. On your own face.'

[lunathebee]

Pairing: Marc Spector x florist!fem!reader (with hints of Steven Grant x florist!fem!reader)

Warning: fluff, swear words, ridiculously long and not 100% proofread, flustered Marc, cheeky reader, Steven teasing Marc.

A/n: writer's block is back and I haven't been doing so well in these heat, y'all it is so hot I can't even focus on doing what I love: which is writing (^～^;)ゞbut part 3 is FINALLY HERE, this is the final part

Summary: You slap Marc's butt, what's next?

Taglist: @eyelessfaces , @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer , @spicydonut25

PART 1 PART 2

"OH MY-" Marc yelled and backed away so fast he even stumbled a little. 'What the fuck just happened? Steven, is Y/n usually like this? God...this woman' He talks to himself while Steven is too busy dying of laughter in the back, completely ignoring Marc's question.

Did you just slap his butt? Marc swears it was not an accident because he could feel it... hard.

"Huh.. so you're not Steven. Who are you?" His brother? Twin? You guys look alike." You're eyeing Marc from head to toes, waiting for an answer.

Y/n won't lie, this guy is kinda cute. She wondered why Steven has never mentioned the fact that he has a hot relative, but again, Y/n don't blame him; they're barely friends; Steven keeps Y/n's company while in return, she lets the British man borrow floriography books and give him some discount on the flowers.

"I'm Marc...Marc, Steven's...brother...twin, yea, kind of. " Marc waves his hand around to introduce himself. Wow, what an awkward impression, but can anyone blame him? He doesn't think a normal person can even talk right after experiencing that. And by a normal person, Marc means Steven, who is still giggling and saying "she's got you wrapped around her finger, mate, she totally does" to tease him.

"Marc huh…I'm Y/n, Steven must have told you about me, I bet he had. Now, Marc, what do you need in my flower shop? We make custom bouquets, gift cards and do delivery too" You said with hands on your hip, thinking that Steven must introduce his brother to a place to get fresh flowers.

When Marc takes more than 1 minute to respond, Y/n sigh and continue dotting on her precious flowers, she can't let Marc ruin her morning despite how hot and sexy and- nope, not a chance. Besides, this is normal right? Men buy flowers and get overwhelmed by the amount of choice they have, then after 15 minutes they just pick a rose to save budget. Oh men…

While Y/n continue fixing the flowers and daydreaming about how one day her prince charming will come, Marc is having a mental breakdown with Steven.

"Bloody hell go with the plan! This is your chance Marc! And can you please stop running your hand over your hair? You're ruining the curls on MY hair too >:("

"Ugh this is not the right time to talk about that gosh Steven....and I know! I know, I'm just....okay okay, I can do it, I got this, we got this, you better not do anything funny Steven"

"Not a chance mate, I swear on Alexander the Great"

"Ah well, I'm still thinking about what to buy, but do you need any help setting up the shop? I know.... quite a lot about these flowers too" Marc starts the conversation with you, hoping to break the ice.

Now, Y/n knows that she shouldn't judge the book by its cover, but Marc? He look like that and know about flowers? That's interesting, weird, funny, and... skeptical. 'please don't says roses are the language of love....' Y/n can't help but thinks.

"Yea sure we can chat about them, after you help me hang up that poster" You said, pointing at one big rolled up poster in the corner.

Marc wasted no time rushing to it, he glad you couldn't see his face for a moment because your gaze set him on fire.

Marc never noticed how beautiful your eyes are, or do you only show this gaze when you're interested in someone? Fuck, are you interested in him? God he-

"Oi, this poster is incorrect. It showcases winter flowers, but there is a summer flower in it? Marc this is it! The plan!" Steven's voice wakes Marc up from his thoughts. He hadn't realized he had unrolled the poster and was now holding it apart.

'What is he even doing?...' Y/n observe Marc as he stands motionless at the corner, staring at the poster as if he is stuck there. "Hello? Earth to Marc? Are you going to hang up the poster?"

Marc snapped his head back after hearing your voice. He figured out that his conversation with Steven must have taken way longer than he expected, hence why your face looks like that.

"Yes yes, I...umm, I just want to say this poster is wrong by the way. It showcases different types of flowers such as Daffodils, Winterberry, and Winter Jasmine, which are all winter flowers, but in this spot here, it has lavender, which is a summer flower." Marc speaks (more like repeats) what Steven has told him in a confident voice.

Steven is right, your face and eyes truly light up while hearing everything. He has successfully impressed you with the plan Steven made up.

"Umm...wow, you're... you're right, there is a- wOW, now I know why Steven borrowed so many floriography books. He really wanted to be like you, isn't he?" Y/n said while smiling at Marc, enjoying how his whole face redden.

While Marc is too busy thinking of something to say back while being embarrassed by your praise, he hadn't noticed you had pulled out your phone and gestured it toward him, saying you wanted his number saved on your phone.

"Oh- me?"

"Yea you Marc, I like you and I want to be friends. What's wrong with that? Or...you don't want to...?" Your voice faded out near the end, full of hesitation.

Marc explains he is just flustered and quickly take the cellphone from your hand, his fingers working fast, typing down each numbers. He was scared that he would messed up some part, but Steven reassured him after both of them checking three times.

"Here you go, that's my number" Marc couldn't hide his excitement when he gave the phone back, he was so happy that everything was going so smoothly. That was until you asked for Marc's cellphone, unknowingly starting the argument between him and Steven.

"You kiddin me right? You don't bring the phone???"

"I forgot about it! Stop yelling at me Steven"

"I can't believe you- How could you- man..."

The disappointment in Marc's eyes and his long sigh of disappointment gave away the fact that he hadn't brought his cellphone with him today. But that's okay, because you have already written down your phone number on a piece of paper and put it in his hand.

You guys chat for a bit more until a customer comes into your shop and asks to buy some flowers.

When Marc finally turns his back to leave the shop, he looks back one last time to see you and to his surprise, you are looking at him too. But this time you break the eye contact first, avoiding his gaze while blushing; and if that didn't put a smile on Marc's face, who knows what will?

[when-worlds-end-archive]

Down Girl

A/N - The first thing I saw was a Batman mini comic so I decided to take creative liberties and choose one of my favorite females from the fandom, Catwoman. Sadly I haven’t read a lot of her comics/seen her much in movies so I’m basing her off of what I remember about her personality, a force to be reckoned with. There are some steamy moments and suggestive themes so keep that in mind as you read, most of it can be skipped if you want to.

Day 3 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Selina Kyle (Catwoman) 2022 x Female Reader

Summary : During a heist, Selina sends you in as a distraction, not realizing how jealous she’d feel until you’re seducing the man guarding what you’re after.

Warning(s) : 16+ readers, suggestive themes, two steamy scenes, “thank god” is said once, swearing, and not well written seduction. This is my first time writing anything with steamy scenes so please go easy on me.

Word Count : 1,878

When you’d gotten dressed that evening, you knew you’d be turning heads when you stepped through the door of the art museum. From the deep v-cut showing off your boobs, to the super high slit showing of your legs, to the tight fit of your floor length black dress. You didn’t intent to leave this gala unnoticed.

You also didn’t intend this many eyes on you as you crossed a room filled with some of the city’s most elite bachelors, an empty flute of champagne in hand. Your objective, the attention of the newest security guard of the exhibit.

He was a tall man with sharp features, his black hair complimenting the black suit that helped him blend in with the crowd. Places like this would always hide security guards within the party guests during galas. Their job was to inconspicuously listen for any discussion of thievery. Lucky for you, you and your partner were well past that.

You knew that the guards would switch places several times throughout the night, going between patrolling the crowd and guarding the newest addition to the museum. Your job tonight, was to attract the attention of the guard while he was in the crowd and then distract him from doing his job long enough for Selina to steal what she could.

You’d picked this specific man due to the fact that he was new, the most likely to stray from his post and the least likely to catch onto what you were doing. He was an easy target, so you went for him, knowing exactly when he’d be switching positions. But first, you needed to catch his attention.

You delicately picked up another flute of champagne, taking a quick sip before looking up. Across the room, he was staring right at you, just what you needed. Bingo.

You walked around the room for a bit, speaking with several men, keeping your body facing towards him so you could make eye contact and smile over your glass. After five of these tedious conversations with men only wanting to fuck you, you decided to finally move in.

“Be careful,” you heard Selina say over your headset, watching you from across the room as you begin to make your way over to him. You’d have to tell her later that she looked good as a blonde.

“I’ve got this, Baby,” you responded, turning to someone as you spoke to make it look like you were commenting on their conversation.

“Needed a break?” You ask as you approach him, keeping in mind to avoid showing the security cameras you face as you do so.

When he nods, you lean yourself up against the wall, twirling a stand of hair around your finger, giving off the impression that you were escaping the suffocating crowdedness of the busy room. It was an entrance you had practiced many times with your girlfriend until you’d perfected it to a T, the successful practice runs leaving the two of you breathless and covered in hickeys.

“Yes,” he responded, looking you up and down slowly. When his eyes zeroed in on your boobs, you smiled slyly. Bingo.

“What's your name?” You ask him, despite knowing everything about him from his age, to his race, to his family history. All of it was in a file on the dinning table of your shared apartment. However you had a part to play, and she didn’t know who he was.

“Jason Montenegro,” he boasted proudly, “we’re in the electronic industry. And you?” That was his part to play, the part every incognito security guard had to play, someone from the wealthy “Montenegro” family.

“Amanda Monir, cousin of Reed Monir,” you responded, shooting him a wry smile as you flashed the diamond ring Selina had given to you as a gift a few weeks ago. It was a little trinket she’d stashed away without you knowing during one of your jewelry heist date nights.

“The diamond business,” he nodded, impressed, “know anything about them besides the fact that they’re pretty gems?” You had to bite back a retort and a roll of your eyes, knowing that a lady never shows her claws unless absolutely necessary.

“You don’t take me for a girl who only knows enough to use her daddy’s credit card, do you?” She asked, laughing the statement off like a typical blue-blooded woman would.

“No, no,” he adamantly said, “not you.” His eyes darting back to your cleavage. 

In his eyes, you were just a wealthy girl with not a care in the world, an easy fuck. In your eyes, it was a battle to see who broke character first.

“I know lots of things about diamonds, like how they’re shiny, and durable,” she stepped close to him, “and expensive.” In all actuality, gems where a speciality of yours, you studied them whenever you had free time between being a normal civilian with a job and being the unknown accomplice of Catwoman.

As you continued to speak to him, you made sure to move in closer until your boobs were practically pressed against him. You knew he wanted you, you just had to cinch it in enough that he’d leave his post.

“What do you say about going somewhere more secluded?” She asked seductively, “someplace with more privacy. You get what I mean?” This was the make or break moment, he’d either go with you willingly or you’d have to find some other way to keep him away from the exhibit.

Luckily for you, he nodded. So you took his hand and gently led him out into the empty hallway to the side of the room. If you had taken too far away, he would have been reminded of the fact that he had a job, something you wanted him forget so that he’d continue to be compliant.

Once you were a ways down the hallway, you were immediately pushed against the wall, his lips going straight to you neck. As you let out fake moans, arching your body against his, you think of the reason why you’re letting him do this. Eyes on the prize. Remember that.

“Those sounds better be fake,” you hear your girlfriend mutter, nearly startling you as you fight back the urge to push him away and reassure your girlfriend that they were. 

You couldn’t do that, if you did, you would ruin the plan and put both you and her in danger. That was something you refused to let happen. You wouldn’t put her at risk, not when it would be completely your fault.

He stays completely oblivious to thought inside your head as his hand slides under your dress, pulling your legs up and around his waist, his hard on pressing against your thigh.

You roll your eyes as you bring your hands up to tangle into his hair, his moans getting louder as you tug harshly on the strands.

“I’m going to cut out his dick,” she stated, her voice indicating that she was very pissed off.

If there was one thing you knew about Selina, it was her possessiveness. Starting from day one of your relationship, she hated whenever any man got too close to you. Whether it means her keeping her arm wrapped tightly around your waist, or a hand on your thigh, or a kiss to your lips, she would do it if it meant that men would stay away.

“Oh,” he moaned against your neck, pressing harder against you.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” she seethed.

Down girl. You thought as you began grinding against him, raising your volume in conjunction. You needed to keep him interested, feeling good, and you needed Selina to have her head in the game.

You continue until you hear Selina’s voice once again “I’m done. Now get his hands off you.”

With the signal that she had been successful, you begin to pull away from him, gently pushing his chest away from yours, glad to finally be getting out of his suffocating grasp.

“I should be getting back to the party,” you pretend to be annoyed, “my family will be wondering where I wandered off to.”

“And I should be getting back to work,” he responded, dropping your legs and letting your feet hit the ground. Thank god.

“Call me after the gala?” You asked, passing him a fake contact card, doing what most women would have done after having an “amazing” time. The card’s number read xxx-xxx-xxxx, the number of a pizza place halfway across the city from where you currently were.

“With pleasure,” he smiled, and you made sure to smile back, even if all you wanted to do to the moment was wipe off your neck.

Once he started walking back towards the gala, you began to make your way down the hallway in the opposite direction, turning the corner and opening a window for your escape before the building’s alarm systems went off.

You had kept your head down the entire time and continued to keep your head down as you exited the security camera’s field of vision. Due to this, only the man’s memory of you could help them in identifying you. If they even figured out that you were part of it.

You made your way down the street, walking with purpose to the alley way where you had hidden your civilian clothes behind some boxes. You’d chosen that specific alley way because it connected two streets and there were no stores stations around it. No stores meant no cameras.

Once you’d grabbed your bag, you threw your wig into the dumpster, followed by your dress and colored contacts. The moment you stepped into the gala, you were a different person, differed hair, different eyes. Now, you were settled back into your civilian clothes and your own identity.

With your transformation finished, you pulled on the signature leather jacket with a black cat embroidered on it that you always wore and exited the alley way on the other side.

You then proceeded to wait on the curb for your girlfriend to show up on her motorbike, your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth.

You heard the revving of an engine headed down the street and turned to watch your girlfriend expertly speed past cars, her bike and helmet reflecting the nightlights of the city.

A grin lit up your face as she parked in front of you, her voice gruff as she tells you to get on.

You did as she commanded without question. You’d have time to ask why she seemed mad when you got back home.

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

The second you were home, Selina pressed you up against the door, kissing and biting and suck on your neck, her hands roaming your body. You let out a soft moan, leaning you head back against the door, closing your eyes in pure bliss.

It wasn’t until after she’d marked up and down your neck, claiming you as her, did she finally pull away, making a whine to fall from your lips.

“Remember, the real moans are only for me, Kitten” she hisses, having finally calmed down enough to speak.

“Down girl,” you joke playfully, gaining a laugh from her as she begins to pull you towards the kitchen.

[jaejena]

cut the cameras. — n, jaemin.

— premise : stuck with a terrible script to direct, you wonder why jaemin insisted on offering his acting prowess up to you yet again despite knowing what he's signed up for. the answer is simple.

— genre : college au, film student/director! y/n x actor! jaemin. forbidden love if you squint hard enough. not straight-up fluff but definitely leans towards that. — warning(s) : none as far as i can see, except the aforementioned cringe script and some swearing. — word count : 1.7 k. — author’s note : attempt #2 at breaking free from my writer's block!

Na Jaemin, one of the promising students in the acting program. An absolute delight to work with too. The actor who uncoincidentally creates extra casting work for the opposite lead role when the genre is romance. He always understood the assignment and that’s what mattered the most to you.

Well, mostly.

Your eyes dart to take a glance at the actor beside you, patting his foot against the floor as he reviews the script.

You just had to catch feelings for him too. A threat to your professionalism if you must say so yourself.

Jaemin draws out a playful, pondering hum through his puckered lips, sifting through the pages of the script in his hands. Then he beams as he looks up at you, “It really sucks ass.”

“I know the script sucks ass,” you tiredly fire right back, “I didn’t have a choice.”

When the professor thrust this script in your hands to direct, you knew you were going to have multiple bad days. Nobody wanted to land a spot in this production crew and the team had to beg for people to take up acting roles in this project.

It’s a mystery as to why Jaemin didn’t run for the hills when he first read this script.

A lazy, smug grin grows on his expression, “If you wrote it, it wouldn’t have been so cringey.”

“I know, I know.” You freaking knew. “Look, just—" You take a deep breath, running a hand through your hair. Then you reassure him, “We’re almost done for the day, so just hang in there, okay?”

“For you?” He makes sure to flash a smile at you once again, “Anything.”

You ignore your fluttering heart in your chest, rolling your eyes in jest. But a grateful smile makes it on your face, “I owe you.” You owe him a lot.

You dig your phone out of your pocket, glancing at the time on the lock screen.

7:45 P.M. You’re at the final stretch.

Jaemin knows that cue, the smile still lingering on his face. “Showtime again?”

“You know it.” You acknowledge sardonically, burying your phone in your pocket once again.

Another go at filming, “Alright, everyone, let’s take our places again!”

Jaemin takes a teetering step before he whirls around to look at you, “We’re starting at my confession again, right?”

“Yeah,” you quickly add, “just for safekeeping.”

There were too many bloopers to count, you’re sure Renjun’s tired of wiping the slate clean for each take. He was getting exasperated by the minute.

“The part where I go,” Jaemin’s eyebrows knit together in faux passion, “‘You’re my priority. Always have, always been—’”

“Okay, stop, stop, stop!” You grimace, hand shooting out to smack his shoulder. “Yes, that part.” You struggle with the flustered blush rising up your cheeks, “Rehearse it on-camera, not to me!”

A soft chuckle leaves Jaemin’s lips, “Right, right.”

As he trod back to the middle of the set, your eyes bore into the back of his head.

You didn’t know why Jaemin auditioned for this cursed film short. He didn’t need this to taint his portfolio at all, but Jaemin had been a recurring actor in your projects. Somehow he must’ve developed an infallible trust in your capabilities along the way.

You snap out of it.

“Chenle,” you call out as you turn to your cameraman, “is the camera still good?”

He whips his head elsewhere, “Yeah! Yeah, it’s good.” You can see him force a knowing smile down as he checks the monitor attached to the camera, “Ready to go.”

God, is it really that obvious to everybody else?

This is embarrassing.

You resist the urge to clear your throat, in defiance of showing any nerves from potential onlookers.

Everybody picks up where they left off quickly, all the cameras stationed at other angles are booted up again and the set lighting flickers on.

Jaemin’s gaze is nearly burning holes through the actress in front of him as he sneaks in some practice before filming. The poor lead actress is pursing her lips, giving encouraging, amused nods as he manages to recite each line without cracking. It seems he finishes without a hitch, tiredly sighing with an ironic smile on his face.

You really do owe him.

“Are we all good to go?” You raise your voice just enough for everyone to hear, in which you hear a wave of approval across the set. Jaemin throws a glance at you and nods. “Let’s do this on one go, nobody laughs this time.” You shoot a warning look at Chenle, who is already clamping down his smile through sheer will.

With the cue given, the crew members begin calling out their own.

“Roll sound!”

“Sound speed!”

“Mark it!”

“Scene fourteen, take eight!”

A hush emerges after the clap of the slate.

Jaemin is already in his element, lighting the actress under an intense gaze, “You’re my priority.”

Your whole face scrunches up, the cheesy lines starting to become fresh in your mind once again.

Jaemin’s hands reach up to caress the actress’s face, his voice softening, “Always have, always been.”

Despite the smile plastered on your face, you’re trying to snuff out the creeping burn of jealousy in your stomach.

You can’t peel your eyes away from the scene in front of you—you have to make sure that everything goes smoothly despite your hatred for the script—yet you can’t help but let a small part of your mind wander.

How does it feel to be in such intimate proximity to Jaemin?

His lip quivers, eyes trailing down the actress’s features, “But it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

You can do without his lines, though.

His voice lowers into a hush, his hands still cradling the actress’s face, “Why are you doing this to me?”

The actress's eyes dart away from his gaze, remaining silent as she expertly feigns a restrained and troubled expression.

You wonder if it is ever humanly possible for a real-life conversation to flow like this.

“Answer me, please.” You can hear the yearning and desperation in Jaemin’s tone.

The actress’s hands rise up from her sides, slowly reaching to get ahold of Jaemin’s hands, laying her hands on top of his.

“It’s not you.” She gently removes his hands from her face, bringing it down and slowly letting go of his hands, “It’s me.”

Jaemin’s face morphs into confusion and denial.

The silence becomes crucial and deadly here. You’re holding your breath in fear that you’d ruin the last moments of the shot, glancing at the monitor as the two actors’ gazes linger on each other.

The actress steps back, turning away before she walks off the scene. Only the sound of her heels clicking against the floor ripples through the silence.

Then, finally, you call out, “Cut!”

Chenle immediately lets out a cackle before he takes a deep breath, “It’s not you, it’s me!”

Jaemin’s voice travels from the center of the set towards you, “Did we do it?”

You turn your head to his direction, seeing the hopeful, pleading look in his eyes. Quickly shooting an apologetic and thankful smile his way, you lift a thumbs-up for him to see.

He lets out a sigh of relief. His light at the end of the tunnel has arrived. Jaemin shifts his attention to the lead actress, relaying the news as she runs back to the center of the set confirm. They mirror each other’s relief as they celebrate overcoming the worst of filming.

A tired smile remains on your face. Filming may be finished, but the duties of the director require you to be present during post-production. It may be over for the actors and the filming crew, but it isn’t over for you.

“You gave me a really hard time, you know.” Jaemin playfully pouts, easily snapping up your attention as he takes his spot beside you, placing his hands on his hips.

“I know.” You draw out the last word, once again apologetic and thankful. “I’ll get you coffee!” You readily offer, “My treat.”

Jaemin raises his eyebrows at the opportunity presented. You can almost see his eyes light up. A mischievous smile appears.

“Is it a date?”

You freeze on the spot, mouth slightly agape at his proposition.

A weak laugh manages to make its way out of you, “Oh?” You fight against your sudden nerves to hold eye contact with him, gauging out his sincerity.

His eyes remain hopeful and open, waiting intently for your answer.

Oh..

Your heart nearly skips a beat.

Oh, he’s serious.

You crack under his attention, a shy smile making its way to your expression, “You know what?” A sudden boost of confidence turns your smile into a grin, “It’s a date.”

Jaemin immediately beams, your confidence infecting his own grin, “I’ll text you soon then.” He throws a glance at the set before cocking his to the side, “I’m gonna go help with packing up.” And there he goes, walking off to help with your crew pack up the equipment.

You’re standing there, still glued to your spot as you process what had just happened.

Chenle’s voice makes you flinch back to reality, “Finally.”

He’s crouched over the camera case, deconstructing his camera’s parts while looking up to you, with a grin too amused.

He’d been sitting there listening to that whole exchange.

You feel like an idiot standing there now, “What do you mean ‘finally’?”

“Y/N, we all know that you’re good at what you do.” He begins, “But you didn’t think that was the only reason why Jaemin kept working with you, did you?”

Holy shit?

This is a revelation, “You knew?”

Chenle nearly yells it out, “Everybody knows!”

You’re quick to shush him, nervously looking around the set to check if anyone heard. The hustle and bustle continues, however, despite the lull of exhaustion hanging over everyone. Jaemin is expertly wrapping up cables as he chats up one of your crew members.

A sudden realization dawns on you then.

The director and the lead actor.

A blush rises up your cheeks at the taste of scandal, nevertheless allowing your sights to linger on Jaemin.

Well, at least you weren’t the only one cracking under the dilemma of professionalism.

[hiy-breadcheeks]

Setting you free.

Part Two

pairing: bucky barnes x gn!reader

a/n: hi. sorry for the long wait,, i got major writers block so my apologies if this isn't that good. oh and let's pretend Tony Stark never broke Bucky's metal arm in Civil War bc... plot reasons :D

One Three

warnings: tiny bit of swearing, angst, science, medical and psychology inaccuracies lol, fluff????, very very brief mention of police brutality, dark humor (?)

2022 © hiy-breadcheeks– don't copy, repost, or translate.

After months of therapy, his therapist, along with the scientist the government ordered to work with him, deemed Bucky ready to finally break free from HYDRA's Winter Soldier, and you're ready to help him every step of the way.

Re-Program... where?

You stirred awake, still feeling Bucky's hand around your neck despite it not being there anymore. While rubbing it, you sit up the bed, adjusting your eyes to the bright light that lit the room you're in. Looking around, you recognized it to be a hospital room.

Events from earlier still fresh in your mind, the reason why you're in the hospital right now. "I don't know who you are." You feel those cold blue eyes still staring at you, emotionless. "I don't know who you are." It shouldn't but, those words hurt you more than you expected. "I don't know who you are." My Bucky does, you thought.

You quickly stood up but stopped as you started to feel every inch of your body ache, your head even more. Releasing a low grunt, you used the railing on the bed to support yourself up. You needed to see Bucky, and you hoped that someone outside can tell you where he is.

You started to worry about him when the clear fear and worry in his eyes started showing up in your mind again, which leads you to start thinking of every worst case scenarios.

What if HYDRA took him?

What if he's still the winter soldier?

What if they hurt him?

You shake your head in attempt to remove those thoughts as you hurry out of your room. And if no one can tell you where your boyfriend is, you'll find him yourself.

Taking your phone from your pocket and opened it to check the time, you realized it's been 15 hours since it all happened. You swore under your breath. They could have done so many bad things to him by now, you thought as hurry to the hospital reception counter.

Not even ten steps away from your door, you already bumped into someone, "I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, attempting to continue on your way to find Bucky god knows where when the man you bumped into stopped you. "Kai? KAI! oh thank god you're awake because I honestly did not plan on waiting for you to wake–"

"SAM! What? What are you doing here?? Bucky! Where's Bucky? Do you know where he is??" You were happy to see Sam, Bucky's best friend. Normally, it would worry you to see him around as he's almost always came to take your boyfriend out for a deadly mission, but this time he was the one who's gonna take you to Bucky.

"I came to fetch you, actually. Bucky's... well he's..." Sam trailed off, seemingly finding it hard to explain your boyfriend's situation which did not make you feel better at all. "Well?! He's what, Sam??"

"Just... come on. I'm not the one who should explain, I think." He said, grabbing your arms and dragging you out to his car. "Fucking hell, Sam. Is it bad?" you asked him as you sat on the passenger's seat. "I don't think so..?"

"What the hell do you mean 'You don't think so'??"

"Well, it depends on how you look at it! Personally, I don't think it's a bad thing." The man said as he started to drive where you assume Bucky is. Your eyes never left Sam's face. Waiting for a more serious answer out of him. "Aye, put your seatbelt on. I ain't planning on getting stopped by a cop right now. Them cops and people like me don't have the best history, you see. They finna think I'm kidnapping you or–"

"Jesus! Can you-" you said as you fastened the seatbelt around you. "-please just tell me where my boyfriend and your best friend is?! Sam, this isn't funny anymore. Come on!" you yelled, getting more and more irritated as seconds go by.

"I don't think I'm allowed to say much but I'll say this. Bucky's fine– for now." you furrowed your eyebrows. "For now?? Can you please go straight to the point?!"

"Listen, Kai. Where Bucky is, there are people there waiting for us and we don't want them waiting for a long time so, relax. Bucky is not dead, if that's what you're worried about. He's fine."

"Who the hell is waiting for us?? Why are you being so discreet about it?" He sighed.

"The Wakandans."

You froze in place and just stared at him. The wakandans? What are they doing here... you thought.

"Don't stare at me for too long, now. You know yo mans have some serious jealousy problems." He joked but you were still hung up on the fact that people from Wakanda are waiting for you.

"Hold on, what are they doing here? I thought it was already clear that Bucky didn't kill King T'Chaka??"

"How about you let me concentrate on driving so we can get there faster and you can get all the answers to your questions?" He said, not taking his eyes off the road.

You stopped talking and stared at the road in front of you, a million thoughts coming in your mind faster than Sam's driving.

After many excruciating minutes, you finally arrive to a very familiar place. The Avengers compound. You never thought you'd be back here again since... well, since it all happened. No one really wanted to go back here because it contained a lot of memories, fun but painful memories of people you considered friends who are mostly gone now.

"Why here?" you asked Sam while you make your way to the entrance with him walking by your side. "King T'Challa wanted somewhere private so they moved Bucky here." He said, you stopped again. "The king is here??"

"Yeah, I thought you'd assume that much."

"Well, I just thought Okoye or even just Ayo would be here, along with the Dora Milaje. I didn't even– THE KING?! Shit, come on! I feel like we've been making them wait for a long time!"

"I been telling you so." you heard Sam mutter under his breath but you chose to ignore it.

Both of you took hurried steps to get there faster as to not make his Majesty wait longer than he needs to. When you stepped inside, a Dora Milaje was waiting for the both of you and motioned you to follow her. "Hi" said Sam but the warrior did not answer.

After a very long and awkward elevator ride, you're now walking towards one of the meeting rooms it seems.

The Dora Milaje opened the door and you saw a glimpse of King T'Challa looking over at Bucky who seemed to still be knocked out because of the strong sedatives that he got two doses of, only looking on your way when you entered.

"Brother, they are here." You looked in the corner and saw Shuri standing there, holding one of Stark's technology. "Yes, I am aware." The king said.

You were sure Sam said something beside you but you didn't hear, or cared to hear. Your eyes never left Bucky.

From where you were standing, you tried to see how he was. He looked troubled. Even passed out, his nightmares still haunt him. Relief washed over your body, still. He didn't seem physically injured and he's in no restraints either. He's okay and that's all that matters.

Sam nudged you, "Aren't we supposed to kneel...?" He whispered but the King seemed to have heard it. "Ah, no need. We are all friends here, anyway." T'Challa said.

You dared not move as to not disrespect the royalties in front of you but you couldn't help it anymore. You quickly walked to your lover and held his hand between yours. "Oh Bucky..." Your brows furrowed when you noticed they had removed his metal arm.

You faced the king, "With no means of disrespect, King T'Challa, what brings you here?" He put his hands behind his back. "Well, I heard about your situation and since he is one of our allies and friend, I thought we'd help."

"How- thank you, but how did you know about...well, about this?"

"I have ears everywhere, Kai."

"True. Except for the fact that this information wasn't from your "ears", brother." Shuri stepped in, "I actually heard about it because I was inside a nearby Starbucks when it happened and well, news travel fast in these places. Don't ask what I'm doing in a Starbucks. He doesn't want one opened in Wakanda."

"And that makes you my ears, sister. Now, can I speak?" Shuri rolled her eyes and continued to examine the technology she's holding.

"So, yes. If you approve, we would like to help Sergeant Barnes recover from the programming HYDRA did to him by bringing him to Wakanda to re-program him."

"Re-program? Why are we treating his brain like some computer?" Sam cut in, you sent him a warning look. "Sam..." you warned.

"What?? He said we're friends and that's how I talk to my friends."

"I'm so sorry..." you said with an embarrassed smile. "Ah, it's fine. It's actually refreshing to hear someone talk to me informally other than Shuri." he smiled, "So, what do you think?"

Still holding Bucky's hand and giving it a squeeze occasionally, you spoke "I think it would be amazing, considering that Wakanda has the best and most advanced technology in the world, now that Stark's gone. And it would be embarrassing to reject your offer now that you asked personally..." you paused, looking back at Bucky's sleeping form. "But I think that decision's up to Bucky, your Majesty." you looked back at them but no one spoke, understanding your point.

You felt Bucky's hand squeeze yours and even before realizing he was awake, he spoke. "I think it's the only way, doll."

"BUCKY! OH THANK GOD!" You exclaimed, throwing your body to hug him. He easily sat up right, with your weight still on him. He hugged you back and buried his face in your neck. "I'm so, so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you." He sobbed, placing soft kisses on your neck and shoulders.

"No, no, no, darling. It's not your fault, okay? No one wanted what happened. You're so much more of a victim than I am, yeah?" You assured him in between forehead kisses. "Here, wear this." you said, wrapping your his sweater around him as to not expose his left side. "Fuck, I'm really really sorry...I- I knew it would–" you stopped him with a kiss on the lips. "You're alright, and that's what matters, okay? Stop the tears now, please?" You smiled softly while wiping his tears away. He nodded and kissed your cheek before turning his head to the others.

"Wassup, Winter Soldier." greeted Sam. While it may be, and should be a sensitive topic right now, Bucky just let out a small, almost inaudible chuckle and greeted his best friend back, seemingly understanding his humor. "Hey, Samuel."

"Sergeant Barnes." T'Challa greeted with a smile. "Your Majesty. Your Highness." Bucky greeted both royals with a nod. "Hello, Sergeant." said Shuri, standing next to her brother.

"So, do we have an agreement?" asked the King once again. Bucky looked at you for approval. "It's your choice, bubba. I'll stay with you whatever your decision may be." you reassured him.

Your lover faced the king again, releasing a deep breath before speaking. "If that's what it takes, I'm honored to accept your help, your majesty."

Okoye came up behind King T'Challa and spoke to him in a language you recognized as xhosa because of the unique clicks in their words. "Perfect timing. Thank you, General." T'Challa smiled. "The tribal council has begun asking where I am so, we must leave right now. Come on."

"Hold on. I'm- I'm on presidential pardon. Does the government know about this?" Bucky asked, glancing between you and the king. And as if on the right time, Dr. Raynor, Bucky's therapist came through the door with the answer to his question. "Yes. I've asked permission once I knew about King T'Challa's offer, and I just got the president's approval right here." she said smiling, waving a piece of paper around where you caught a glimpse of the government's stamp. "Good luck, James. You deserve freedom." she said, patting him on the shoulders.

"Wait, how about you? Aren't you coming?" you asked before she left through the door. "No, but I will be waiting here for him for the rest of his sessions. Yes, he'll move on from his trigger words, but he's still far from fully recovered, Kai." she said and left. "Sam?" Bucky asked. "No, man. Can't come. Sarah needs me at home." He smiled. "Hey, take care of my best friend." Sam reminded you. "Of course, I will." you chuckled.

You held Bucky's hand, "Let's go, love."

@fangirl125reader

...lmao hi. tysm for reading!! the next one is probably not gonna come for a while bc school tings :DDD 'pologies for the grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language </3

[chiwhorei]

gun bunny

pairing: mafia!s. aizawa x fem!reader

genre: mafia!au, quirkless!au, smut- 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.5k

warning: somnophilia, voyeurism, violence, attempted kidnapping, attempted assault, mentions of blood, mentions of guns and knives, degradation, age-gap (reader is 19 and aizawa is 31), spitting

a/n: hello! this is my contribution to the smut pile mafia!server collab, this is both my first smut pile collab (this is so late i am so sorry sksksksk) and my first full-length bnha piece, be sure to check out everyone else’s amazing work here! thank you to @10millionyearsdungeon and @messwriting for your constant support while i trudged through sad pal hours for a fucking month and crawled out of the pits of writer’s block

hymns: hayloft by - mother mother, i’m on fire - awolnation cover

Blood pours over decades like syrup, the tinny-sweet smell was distinct but all too familiar. A muffled gun’s buzzing frames 19 years of life. The barrel feels cool, sitting precariously by the highest angle of your cheekbone.

“I told you not to cause trouble, brat. Now I have to clean up your little mess.”

Aizawa’s body is tall and broad above you, holding you against him with a protective grip on the small of your back. Every word is sneering, punctuated with a growl-- you feel it reverberate against his chest.

The bullet is resounding even through the silencer; a deafening sound, final bell tolling next to smeared streaks of mascara.

Aizawa Shouta has always been around-- whether bringing your dad a hefty stack of reports to thumb through or loosening his tie in the parlor and toasting him to another job well done. A carousel of chauffeurs and bodyguards encircle you, but all are nameless faces except for the man that can make people disappear in an instant: Eraser.

Otsuka y/n, the only daughter of the most powerful man in Japan, is a weighty title against your shoulders. Your father’s reputation has cradled you for almost two decades, keeping you draped in fur and balancing on red-bottoms. He has more money, more power than God. To most of your father’s inner circle, you are the dutiful, angelic heiress to his blood-soaked empire. You play the part well enough, polite, temperate- your hands are painted red in culpability, but perfectly manicured.

Your father’s business isn’t a secret, no matter his attempts to shield you over the years. There’s only so many nights spent humming to the tune of cracking skulls in the next room before “investments in oil” starts to lose its validity. Whenever you ask him, he pats your head, smoothing stray strands of hair, “I do it all for you, bunny. Everything is for you.”

You decide not to think about rouge splatters of blood and bruises against his knuckles, ignoring the clicking of a loading gun before he leaves for the office.

It’s better this way.

“You can’t be serious, Otsuka.” Aizawa paces across the hardwood, heel to toe with Italian leather from one large bookshelf to the other. A familiar habit, you’ve seen the contemplative marching before and know it to mean one thing: Aizawa is pissed.

“Have you ever known me to joke around? Especially with y/n?” Your father’s elbows hit the table in front of him, the jagged scars lining his face seem even more intimidating when coupled with a harshly set frown. You perch on the side of his large desk, swinging your feet lightly.

“Oh daddy, I’m not a child. I don’t need Eraser to babysit me.” You huff, crossing your arms and providing a pout to your father’s hard expression. You hear the mumbled, “Don’t call me that,” from behind you, but decide against a response.

“He’s going to look after you while I’m in Musutafu. I have to handle some…” he trails off slightly, one of his hands coming up to rub against his bald head, “noncompliance, but I shouldn’t be gone for more than a few days.” His disfigured fingers curling around yours, you look up to meet his eye, “Be a good girl, bunny.”

You give your father’s temple a kiss, pulling back to smile sweetly. Your next words have Aizawa snorting, rolling his eyes far enough into his skull to be painful.

“I always am.”

A bend downwards at the hips frames your ass perfectly, the lace of your panties curls around your pussy tightly, hooking against the lips and showcasing your soft skin. Questions swirl in the bowl of cereal in front of him, all but forgotten as soon as a cup“fell” from your fingers and clattered to the floor. The taste, the smell, the feeling of--

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Aizawa is ripped from the reprehensible desires of his senses to meet your eyes, your form still folded over on itself and displayed for Aizawa in the otherwise empty kitchen. You giggle at his scowl, snapping back up and smoothing out your skirt. Aizawa bites down on the spoon in between his teeth, he swears he can feel his teeth cracking. Better his canines than his will.

This only marks the beginning of a long week for your father’s right-hand man. The proceeding days turn to nights at a snail's pace. The past week has been inching towards disaster with every minute of alone time you could steal with Aizawa.

“Eraser, what are you doing up so late.” Your voice curls around his shoulder, the whine tugging him towards your open bedroom door. It’s late, far too late for you to be up to anything good.

You always like to push your luck, playing a game you know Aizawa won’t let himself win. Pressing firmly against the line but never pointing your heel across. Maintaining your immunity, feigning innocence behind a soft pout. Your appointed guardian isn’t fooled by any honeyed façade you build around his associates. He knows what you are at the core.

He tries to shake off your pull, but the way your voice lilts against the long hallway is magnetic. The past few nights have been the same song and dance, your disarming call to him as he trudges to one of the many guest bedrooms. Every night he gets closer, heavy feet and tense nerves guiding him towards your warm voice. He’s weathering a sea, you’re the siren hell-bent on his drowning.

“I told you not to call me that, little girl.” His response to your wanton call is shallow, the nickname is one he hates the sound of, especially rolling past your lips.

“Do you like what you see?”

Aizawa’s brows set harshly as he looks on to where you lie nestled in pillows and silk. You have nothing but a loose, light pink camisole to cover your body, cotton panties pulled down to your ankles with shameless intent. Your legs are spread wide for your viewer’s pleasure, two fingers brush against your lips, dragging lazily- up and back down.

Aizawa knows what you really are, a petulant brat.

You pull at the soft skin, spreading yourself to unveil the tight, clenching hole. He leans his shoulder against the jam, eyes drinking you in where his body shamefully wishes to be. The groan aching deeply in his chest is not lost on you as your other hand pulls the hem of your shirt upwards to catch in between your teeth.

The soft plush of your breasts bounces slightly, nipples peeking out from the folds of fabric, now fully exposed to the inky-black stare of your voyeur. There’s nothing left to his imagination now, the question that haunts sleepless nights, palming a large hand up and down his cock and imagining something softer and smaller. The picture of what his boss’s precious daughter would look like squirming under him becoming clearer beyond all reason.

Aizawa should turn heel and walk away, he should slam your bedroom door shut and count the days until your father’s return with a measured distance. He should walk away. He should-

A soft whimper drags him from contemplation and back to the writhing succubus center stage. Your fingers move quickly against your aching clit, drawing out babbled pleas to hit harshly against the tall, brooding presence at your door.

“I’ve had about enough of your games, bunny. Your father tasked me to keep you out of trouble, but you are the trouble.” Aizawa’s words hit your ears mockingly, but they sound more like an invitation than a warning, especially as his body inches forward, breaching the threshold of your bedroom inch by inch.

Two fingers slip past your lips, pushing in and drawing back slicked with arousal. You repeat the action, slowly, ensuring the boring set of eyes are trained on where you clench desperately; wanting to put on a good show with your bodyguard in the front row.

Aizawa’s head is swimming, dizzy and drunk. He wants to tear you apart, to lay claim to the twitching prize between your legs. If you struggle around two of your own much smaller fingers, it would be nearly impossible to wrap you around his thick cock.

That is, not without breaking you.

The heated pants escaping you pick up in canter, your audience winding a tight cord with his presence alone. Aizawa is unrelenting in his deep, unblinking stare, stepping towards your bed slowly. Once his body is looming over you, the coil in your stomach has turned into a hair pinned trigger.

“Such a messy little slut. Getting off to the attention aren’t you?” You’re rendered dumb at his comment, Aizawa barely has to press his thumb into your chin before your mouth hangs open. You look up with glassy eyes, fingers sore from working against your pussy, chasing a high you can only imagine how fast Aizawa could steal from you. His expression is as neutral as always, but the despondency doesn’t quite shadow the fire burning in his eyes. You watch him lean forward slightly, a string of saliva falling downward to land against your tongue. His spit feels hot, you can taste the remnants of cigar and mint gum as you swallow.

You come undone in a litany of cries, pleading with your captor. His hold is passive as he looks at you, watching you cum against your fingers, the squelching sounds make his mouth dry. The only source of hydration is at the apex of your thighs. Visions flash before his eyes, images of what the curve of your breasts look like as he’s buried tongue deep, lapping you up post-orgasm and pushing you over once more for good measure.

Aizawa retreats, lest he pulls you against his mouth while your cunt is still pulsating, he needs to escape before your knees are pressed to your shoulders. He slams your door closed harshly, leaving you with the taste of his contempt for you on your bottom lip.

You’re quick to sleep, body falling into the warmth of unconsciousness coupled with dreams of what a certain set of fingers would feel like against you. How the scars and calluses would brush against your most intimate inches of spongy flesh, how he would stretch you.

You can almost feel the soreness in between your legs and the heavy slap of something against your stomach. You can almost remember the whispered confessional swimming in the back of your head, the soft grunts from above your sleeping form. As sunlight stretches across your sleep-stiff body, your hand trails down over your naked skin, maybe you aren’t the only one playing games this week.

You could have almost sworn you had gone to sleep with panties on.

The car ride to your father’s bar was filled with unflattering tension. You had protested in vain that going with Aizawa wasn’t necessary, but had been met with a dismissive, “I don’t trust you to behave.”

“I’m not a child, Eraser. I don’t see why I couldn’t just sit at home.” You wobble behind your escort, heeled boots clacking against the gravel.

As you enter the building, a young mop of violet hair flanks Aizawa down with a stack of papers. The man is nameless to you but is familiar enough to be assumed under your father’s thumb.

Aizawa looks over the document’s now held in front of him with care, rolling up the sleeves to his crisp dress shirt as his eyes scan the pages. You note the shimmering silvered skin of a scar under his left eye, pronounced by the harsh lighting surrounding you. His hair is held up partially by a tie, the loose strands framing his face.

“Are you listening to me, little girl?” You're snapped back from watching his mouth curling around syllables to actually make out what they’ve been saying.

“Go sit down, I’ll only be a few minutes.” You nod along and turn to perch at the bar, but stop at the grip pulling you back for one final order. “Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Aizawa leaves you to stew in the subtle brush of his pointer finger against the tender skin of your wrist, he rubs the skin subtly before disappearing to the back rooms.

The minutes ticking by are agonizing. Aizawa, usually the epitome of brief, has been gone long enough for the condensation on your glass to mar the wood below it in countless ringlets. You twirl the straw against the strawberry liquor, willing time to crank by faster with the action. The drink in your veins isn’t nearly enough to get you drunk but does make the opening of the front door unnoticeable.

Your back is facing the heavy wood, unaware of the two strangers now approaching until the curdling sound of one man’s voice hits the shell of your ear.

“Well, well, look what we have here. Why don’t I buy you a drink, princess?” Each man steals one of your sides, enclosing you into a tight, predatory huddle.

“This is my bar. I don’t need you to buy me anything.” You try to shake off the nauseating feeling of their bodies so close to you, gut twisting uncomfortably as one man’s breath crawls across your shoulder blades. They’re both so close. Too close.

“Wow, this little kitty cat’s got some claws, don’t she?” You feel hands curl around each bicep, a bruising grip right below your armpits. Your body is hoisted up, your balance off at the jarring upheaval.

Possible escape routes flash across your mind but all seem impossible. Would trying to shake off the still faceless strangers even work? And even if you sprung free, would you make it to the back office before they caught up? Should you try to scream? Would Aizawa hear you?

Before you can make any moves, you feel the flat side of a knife at your collarbone. A chill rattles down your spine at the contact, two inches of metal keeping your entire body compliant.

Their intent is clear, you’ll be coming with them, and by the sharp point of a blade digging into the first layer of skin-- you’ll be coming quietly.

A mixture of shock and disbelief compels your body into compliance, dragging you to the front door and closer towards an awaiting trunk.

“Your carriage, princess.” You hear the shorter man on your right, his voice at your neck sounds waterlogged through the blood rushing in your ears. Any protests die at the knife against your skin, digging in shallowly and pricking a small trail of red along your clavicle.

A sharp snap sounds behind you, like a piece of thin wood under a heavy boot. One of your captors falls in a pile next to you. You’re turned around to meet a familiar pair of venomous, black eyes, Aizawa’s words roll from his tongue with a growl.

You’re pulled at the wrist, stumbling back into the strong chest of your appointed bodyguard.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my bunny?”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[randomperson1me]

My thoughts on she-ra

so I'm bored and i love she-ra so until i have no writers block or until I get a request ( im adding she-ra to the list of things I write for) here are my favourite things about it, things I noticed and my favourite ships, spoliers ahead for every season

first thoughts

ok so i'll admit at the start of watching it, it took a while for me to get invested, i slightly stopped after swift wind was introduced because he annoyed me but afterwards I kind of found him funny sometimes, yeah sometimes. I didn't like the queen or glimmer at first but then i came to really like the queen since in reality she was just a stressed mother with a rebellious teen. And I slightly came around to liking glimmer

favourite charachters and why

I INSTANTLY fell in love with Sea-hawk, Adora ,Entrapta ,double trouble, hordak, Scorpia and wrong hordak

sea- hawk:

so starting off with sea-hawk. He looks like the tuff-ish type and sounds like an amazing adventurer, when in reality he's just a big goof trying to get the girl he likes to like him back. and when he said "I hope you forgive me when your yourself again" ( or along those lines) I almost stared crying.

Adora:

Adora is honestly one of my favourites because of how her growth is portrayed, she went from being this ' evil' person to the ' I have no clue what my life is anymore' teen. Also when Adora was acting all droopy from the sword being cursed) I think) It was hilarious

entrapta:

oh my god I love this girl! She is the peak of comedy in this show. I love how she doesn't really give a shit of what most people think. Her relationship with Hordax and wrong Hordak make me so happy like aaa. I also love how since she has trouble making friends or talking to people she surrounds herself with robots, and whenever tech is mentioned she HAS to be involved. And how happy she was to see him in the end was so adorable

double trouble:

biggest non-binary icon ever! I love their voice, their looks their attitude its everything! The whole flutterina thing caught me by surprise and when they revealed themselves i was like " HOLY SHIT ITS YOU!". I love how they dont give two shits who they tease or how far they go. Their just like ".. I wanna mess with Catra brb" and " ohh so he's the boss? lemme go annoy him "

hordak+ wrong hordak

ok so im mixing the two cause im just going to briefly touch on wrong hordak.

So i really like the finale season of hordak. I love how the person to snap him out fully is entrapda, I love how he cares for her and instantly rushes to save her from the explosion. And the second she talks bad about herself he's like " wait a damn minute". And wrong hordak not understanding basic functions and winking is just adorable to me.

catra

: OH. MY. GOD.. LESBAIN ICONNN. Ok ok I'll be serious. Catra definitely had the most growth, from hating Adora to rushing to save her because she truly loved her. And how when Scorpia showed a hint of friendship she pushed her away, probably scared that she would like like adora did... and her " hey adoraa" makes me have gay panic when I hear it-

scorpia:

Scorpia is the definition of don't judge a book by its cover. She looks like a tuff asshole person but is a sweet and gentle person outside of battle. She doesn't see the bad of Catra which is heart-breaking when she realizes it. I also love her taking care of Emily when entrapda was sent away

things i noticed( not that much)

entrapda pulls her mask down when she's worried

glimmer has a lisp

everyone grabs entrapda by her hair

my favourite ship ( cutting it down to only one )

entrapda x hordak ( entrapdak)

I love this ship with my WHOLE heart. He is literally the one one who understands her. I noticed when the portal prototype was going to explode, instead of grabbing her hair he grabbed her hand and COVERED her when they both fell. He was literally so hurt when she got sent away. And when they reunited i SWEAR I heard him say " its ok" to her. I honestly adore this ship.

soooo if yall wanna see a part 2 lemme know. My requests are still open and I will do requests for she-ra but i wont do romantic for hordak though

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Cure to a Bad Day

Summary: Andy had a bad day and he needs your pussy to make it all better.

Pairings: Daddy!Andy Barber x Black!Reader

Warnings: Age Gap (not mentioned), smut, daddy kink, rough sex, porn without a plot, reverse cowgirl, face fucking, using tie as a restraint, choking with tie, swearing, dirty talk

Tagged: @titty-teetee , @harrysthiccthighss , @iam-laiya , @mariahthelioness29 , @night-of-the-living-shred , @liquorlaughslove , @blackmissfrizzle , @donutloverxo @whiskey-cokenfanfic , @olyvoyl, @queenoftheworldisdead, @zaddychris, @pooresthilton (for some reason it won’t let me tag you)

(A/N: this is totally unedited. I just wanted to put something out so I could work through my writers block. Also this is dedicated to @babyloveuniverse for putting the idea of Andy Barber choking me with his tie in my head. Thanks for that 😭.Reblog, reblog, reblog.)

Andy had been having such a bad day today. He’d almost missed a deadline with work, the divorce was getting kind of ugly, and he was mentally exhausted. Needed an outlet. Luckily he had you.

You were all dolled up in this dress he didn’t let you wear out of the house. Said he didn’t like seeing other men look at you since it was so short your ass almost showed in it. Yet he loved it when you wore it for him.

When he’d talked to you on his lunch break, you could hear the stress in his voice. Wanting to be a good little girlfriend you decided to make his favorite and dress up a little. Ever since he’d left Laurie for you - not that she knew that - the two of you had been in bliss. He wanted to take care of you and had already started planning your wedding for whenever the divorce was finalized.

Of course all of that meant that sometimes you also needed to take care of him. Today had been a pretty difficult day after all. Sometimes he needed to use you to de-stress in a way he could never do with his ex.

Before you could even greet him, he pushed you against the counter. Kissing you hard and pressing himself into you as he started to undo his tie.

“Daddy had a hard day so he needs your help to feel better,” he said as he turned you around so you were bent over. His tie was now being wrapped around your hands behind your back and there was nothing you could do about it. He smacked your ass hard once and then again and again.

You yelped, “Ow!”

“Gonna be a good girl for me, huh? I know you better be. Daddy needs you to take care of him.” He pulled you up so your ass was against his crotch.

Andy grinded himself into you. “What about dinner?” You asked looking at the food you’d started preparing as he started walking with you over to the living room, fondling your tits as he did.

“We’ll order in,” he said, grabbing your neck so he could pull you into another kiss while he was still standing beheind you. He pretty much shoved his tongue into your mouth, needing to kiss you hard. Needing to dominate you in every way possible.

Your breathing was heavy as he lifted the front of your dress so he could finally playing with his pretty little pussy. “Fuck,” you gasped, pulling away from him.

“I think you knew what was about to happen,” he said into your ear. One of his hands still wrapped around your neck as his other toyed with your clit. “My dirty little slut didn’t even bother to put on any panties? You wanted me to come home and fuck you hard. Didn’t you.”

You nodded looking up at him with those pretty already blurry eyes. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hissed. “So fucking good.” He smacked your mound making you jump before throwing you on the couch. He stalked over to you, grabbing your chin so you were forced to watch as he undid his belt and then his pants making his cock spring forward. “Gonna take me in your mouth like a good girl?” He asked. “Open.”

You obeyed his command, opening your mouth wide so you could take him. As he grabbed you by your hair to pull you on him so he could start fucking your mouth.

He groaned as he started thrusting his hips. “That’s such a good slut. See this is why I love you.” He pulled you down so you were on your knees in front of him. “Look up at me,” he baby talked you. “Daddy wants to see those pretty eyes while he destroys your throat.”

You did as you were told as you pulled him out of your mouth so you could start licking him. He grabbed a fistful of your hair. Your tongue worked his tip, licking up all that precum.

You almost forgot that he’d tied your hands together because you wanted to touch him so bad. And he was so much to fit in your mouth you needed the extra help to jack him off. With his hand still in your hair he forced you down his length. You gagged, coughing around him before he let you back home. Strings of saliva coming off with it.

“You didn’t forget your manners did you? Remember you’re supposed to thank your daddy for allowing you to worship is cock, Baby.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Daddy.”

He grunted because fuck what a sight to behold. You still in that little ass dress with your legs spread open. Pussy juices dripping onto the hardwood flooring. “You’re welcome,” he said before making you do the same thing again this time letting you get a breath in before filling you with him again. “Nasty fucking girl.”

Your face was getting covered from all the slobber and the next time he pulled you off of him you didn’t skip a beat. “Thank you, Daddy.”

He chuckled before running his hand over your face trying to spread it even more. Fuck you wanted to touch your pussy so bad. He lifted his dick up so his balls were in your face. You knew what he wanted and got to work licking, sucking, and slobbering all over. “Good fucking girl. Such a good nasty little slut.”

His dick fell heavy against your face. He took it into his hand so he could smack your face with it. Fuck it was a dream. His girl sucking on his balls while he cock slapped you. A dream.

He leaned down to undo the tie from around your hands before sitting down on the couch. “Come over here,” he said. You nodded as you crawled over before getting back on your knees so you could suck him again.

Now with your hands free, you could now jerk him off as you sucked at the same time. Fuck he had needed this so damn bad. He needed your pussy more though because he pulled you off of him soon and made you stand up.

He pulled you up and turned you around, making you sit on his dick. Normally he would have worked to make sure your was nice and wet, but he knew his little slut. He knew you’d take whatever he gave you.

Your pussy always seemed to hug his cock in a way he never felt before. Your pussy so perfectly tight. Fucking soaking. All his. Only his.

“Daddy,” you mewled once you were completely seated on his length. He was too damn much, but he didn’t give a shit as he started working your cunt helping you move up and down. “It’s too much.”

“That’s why you need to be a good girl and take it,” he grunted because after that blowjob he knew he wasn’t going to last long at all. “Tell me you’re my bitch.”

“I’m your bitch,” you whimpered. Fuck he was so damn big. How the fuck did he always feels so big. He never gave you a chance to adjust and it hurt so damn good.

With his tie still in hand, he put it around your neck twisting it around his hands as he pressed it into you. You cried out because fuck you started to feel like you couldn’t take it which only made you wanna take it even harder. “You gonna fucking cum for me?” He asked. “Gonna cum all over me like the slut you are. You like when I treat you like shit?”

“Yes!” You screamed putting your hands behind you so that they were gripping his thighs. You needed the leverage because honestly you were afraid of falling off with how strong you could tell your orgasm was about to be. “Daddy!”

“Cum for me,” he said in your ear. “Cum for me so daddy can fucking cum inside that nasty little fucking cunt.”

You moved your hips desperately as finally it hit you fucking hard. “Daddy!” You screamed out. The pressure from his tie being around your neck, only adding to the intensity.

He stilled you as he started to cum in your pussy. Thick ropes of his cum painting your walls. Just what he needed after such a bad day. You collapsed back onto him. Both of you breathing heavy.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing the top of your head. “Thank you, Daddy,” you mumbled your throat feeling all raw. You were in a slight daze. God you looked beautiful.

He chuckled his chest still heaving. “No, thank you, Baby. Always so good at taking care of me.” He laid down now with his in his arms, finally fully kicking his pants off. “You can pick out dinner, okay?”

You nodded as you laid against him. How the hell was he expecting you to think let alone know what you wanted for dinner after he’d just fucked you like that.

“Did you have a good day, at least?” He asked because now that he was taken care of, he wanted to hear all about you.

[how-masterful]

Remastered

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Chapter 4: The Pandorica Opens

Summary: Roman Centurions. Pandora's Box. Together you and the Master find yourselves exploring the depths of the cavern below Stonehenge and what mysteries lay within. Legend speaks of a box, an ancient god trapped inside its walls. Why does the rest of the universe want it so badly? And what can the Master do when he finally finds out what’s waiting inside the Pandorica is not what it seems?...

Notes: Welcome back to Remastered! Its been a long time coming! I know I promised an update a while ago, but sometimes these things just don’t work out the way you want them to. If we had a dedicated Master show my job would be so much easier! I finally managed to beat my writers block and found an episode i’d like to masterfy, so i hope you all enjoy! 

(You know the drill by now. @plethora-of-imagines, my beloved hat and master lover, this one is for you. just like the other ones. and all the ones coming. because who else would they be for?)

All around the Master, ever so slowly, the world he’d found himself in was suddenly starting to make sense. Dangerous, deadly, foreboding sense. On any other day, the renegade Time Lord would see that as a good thing. But that evening, underneath the ancient ruins of Stonehenge, the Master knew the dark was not on his side.

The communicator had crashed out a mere few seconds ago, fizzing and hissing against his ear. He’d thrown the device to the floor with a frustrated yell, gritting his teeth as his fingers returned to rub at his beard in thought. The same hand ran over his cheek and through his tangled fringe that hung over his eye, fingers gripping at the hair as his feet scuffed and disrupted the old dust upon the floor. He was pacing back and forth. This was not good. The high pitched ringing was deafening, his fingers plugging his ears as he stared down as the communicator. Its corner was dented, dust flying into the small cracks that had crawled up the edge of the glass. The screen still flickers with your face and name, the giant red letters of ‘COMMUNICATION LINE DISRUPTED' beneath it not failing to make his stomach churn.

You were both in grave danger. But it seemed like his was getting even worse.

“Master, it's not real!”

You’d yelled down the communicator line. Behind your plea, the Master had heard the Tardis creaking. Her engines were metal upon metal, screeching and groaning as it hurtled through the Time Vortex.

“What the hell does that mean, it's not real? Where are you?”

“Listen to me! All of it, everything’s a lie! The Romans, they’re right here.”

The Master was getting impatient. But you sounded almost terrified. The Roman platoon was hurrying around him carrying weapons and ammunition throughout the Underhenge. Almost like clockwork. At least they’d forgiven your lie about your identities- Emperor Nero and Pharaoh Cleopatra had seemed like clever aliases at the time. The Master sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What are you talking about, what's all that noise-”

“In the book!”

“You’d better not be breaking my Tardis!”

“Master just listen to me, please!”

You let out a sudden scream. The Tardis jolted forward, sending you slamming into the console. The cloister bells had begun to toll, sparks and shocks of electricity and flame spurting from the central console of the type 41 machine. 

All around the Master, the Roman soldiers had slumped forward. Knees locked into position, life drained from their eyes. Weapons, spears and swords clattered to the floor with ricochetting bangs. The Master blew onto the screen of the communicator, banishing the dust from its surface. Every attempt to reopen the communication line was met with an electronic buzz, denying him access. Preoccupied, with one finger plugged in his ear and his shoulder pushed up against the other, he failed to hear the marching footsteps of the platoon behind him. 

A unified electronic whirr permeated the room, with all of the soldiers' hands snapping open and small, cylindrical cannons pushing through the exposed middle of their palms. All around the Master, the soldiers were following their commands and drawing closer and closer.

“What was that bang?!”

The Master pulled the com from his ear, before pulling it back closer to his mouth. A Roman had turned to face him, sending him a quirked eyebrow. In return the Master sent a fake smile, before ducking behind the corner of the large box in the center of the room. It would be best if he wasn't seen during this conversation.

“Y/N, talk to me, can you hear me?”

The Master half whispered.

“The Romans are in this book! The Tardis took me back to my house, i don't know why-”

“Your house?”

“When I was a kid. Something else had been there, the grass had these weird scorch patterns and the readings on that thing you gave me were going off the scale. The book on my nightstand, Roman history, i’d studied it at school-”

“You’d said it was your favorite subject, yes.”

Part of you wanted to mull over the fact the Master had remembered your favorite subject, enjoying the fact the hardened criminal had taken the time and care to recall such a trivial fact about his ‘not’ companion. He often mused how preferred to call you his partner. You treasured its double meaning to no end. But you also knew that favouritism was what had led you to visit this Roman colony. You felt slightly responsible over the ensuing chaos.

“I knew I recognized them from somewhere- The Romans, in the book, they’re the exact ones that are with you right now.”

“That's impossible- they’re DRAWINGS, love!”

“I swear! Something has copied the book from my house!”

The Master smacked the side of the communicator, shaking even more dust free from the device. It was only after that he raised his head, suddenly aware of the silence surrounding him. The Romans, or whatever they were, had stood themselves in flank formation, lined up against the edges of the chamber. Blocking his only way out. Beyond the boundary the other soldiers stood side by side in perfect position, surrounding the Time Lord in the purple tweed jacket. Cornering him in front of the Pandorica. Finally, the ringing had dissolved into white noise. Now the Master could think. Almost.

Before he could even begin to spew out a threat, of which he had many planned and ready at the tip of his tongue, the room began to shake with a gargantuan rumble. Lit torches, hung on the walls in metal cages, rattled in their confinements as dust fell from the ceiling like snowfall. The Master's attention was yanked from the Romans, his head whipping behind him as the corner of the Pandorica slowly began to split along its seam. The rumble grew stronger as the stone walls shifted along their mechanisms, the green glow drowned by the emerging, blinding white light.

“Oh, good. You’re ready to come out now?”

Sarcasm and wit had recently become a favorite of the Master. His new body seemed to enjoy plastering on a smug grin and a growled one liner when facing certain doom. He was universally known as indestructible, as his previous faces had bragged. But it seemed this was rapidly misplaced in the current situation. 

“I promise you!”

You yelled in protest, slamming hard on a lever and frantically tapping on the interface as you argued.

“They’re the exact same! So is the box!”

The Master reared his head to look at the box he’d pressed his back against.

“What do you mean, the box?”

The legendary Pandorica loomed down at him, the intricate detailing carved into its side glowing with an ominous green light that burnt from within. History had spoken of it, the mystery that lay beneath stonehenge, but to earthly historians, in their ignorant and self aggrandizing ways, it was just that. A mystery. Humanity had chalked the box up to being a folk tale, to ignore the mortifying idea of the supposedly supernatural being… natural: That aliens were anything beyond little green men in flying saucers, and human science simply couldn't, or more likely refused, to explain what had fallen from the stars.

“The Pandorica, I'd said it was like Pandora's box, right?”

You’d clapped with delight, unable to hide your excitement when the Tardis had materialised atop that hill hours before. You’d mentioned how similar the structure seemed to you, even down to the name: Pandora's box…  

Your favourite book as a child. He could remember you mentioning it.

The Master did not like where this was going.

“Well?” he asked hesitantly, possibly for the first time in his life.

“It's here, on the cover of the book, my copy of the book, it's the same box.”

The Time Lord could see something peeking through the bright white, the silhouette of something existing within the box. He’d try again with the communicator in a moment, he supposed, slipping it into his endlessly deep inside pocket. He lent forward, peering into the glow, ever curious. Was this the so-called trickster, the universe destroying monster that had dwelled inside that box for millennia? The possibility of an answer was suddenly snatched away, however, when two strong arms punched through the gap between his torso and his arms, sliding under his shoulders and yanking him towards his feet. 

The Master let out a shocked sound not unlike a bark, gritting his teeth as the soldiers clutched the man tight between them. His hair flipped madly as he turned to look at his wardens- the familiar, glassy look in their eyes turning the cogs in his brain. He tugged on their grasp, snarling as they dragged him through the dark and dusty cavern. His fingers scrambled to grab onto their own, to try and pry them from his form. Until he saw their fingers were no longer there. Replaced with small blasters in place of their palms. Their living plastic palms.

A sight all too familiar for the Master.

“How can they be the same, where even are you?”

The Master pinched the bridge of his nose once more, giving a disgruntled huff as his head fell back against the side of the Pandorica. Thoughts and possibilities were scrambling around inside his brains, like matadors trying to tame the most frightful of bulls in the ring.

“Master, these are my memories. Why did they go to my house, whatever it is?”

“Most likely, god, mimicry? They needed something that would peak our interest, make us come here-”

The Tardis jolted and screeched once more, her engines whining like a startled parakeet. Sparks and rumbles rocked the floor. You lost your footing, falling to your knees while clutching tight to the edge of the console. The Master pushed himself from the side of the box with a growl.

“What the hell are you doing to my Tardis, Y/n?”

“I don't know!”

You protested, heaving yourself up against the console. You continued to move along the screens, following the rhythm the Master had taught you. It was almost like a dance, especially the way his hands had wandered to your hips while he introduced you to the console.

“Its like something else is controlling it, the controls aren't responding-”

Another bang of sparks. The Master rolled his eyes.

“All those flying lessons I gave you- try and land her, wherever you are. The Tardis has protocols in place to keep you safe. You have to get out of there.”

“I’m trying!”

“The Nestene consciousness, I'd like to say it's pleasant to see you again.”

The Master grunted, trying to yank his shoulder free and almost losing his footing against his own force.

“Romans, a step up from shop dummies and plastic flowers, I'm impressed.”

He truly couldn't tell if his teasing was to intimidate or calm his own racing heartbeats. The Romans whirred and stomped, oblivious to his protests. Also oblivious to his remarks.

“Listen, I'm ordering you to let me go, there's bigger things for me to deal with here-”

Still no reply. The Master grit his teeth, yanking himself backwards in a feeble attempt at escape. He tried to thrash, to worm his way out of their grasp. But it was fruitless. The Autons were just as obnoxiously durable as the first time he’d met them, all those years ago.

“I COMMAND YOU TO LET ME GO!”

Further screams pierced through the communicator line, the timelord wincing as he once more pulled the device from his ear. You sounded terrified, the Tardis spiralling further out of control. 

“Y/n? Love, talk to me!”

“Master, I can't control her! Whatever's out there with you, it has to be connected. The same box, the same Romans, the same night, that CAN'T be a coincidence! Master, everything out there with you, It's a trap. It has to be. They wanted us to come here, Please just trust me, you have to get out of there-”

Crash. Hiss. Bang. The Tardis was screaming as it hurtled through the Vortex. The Master was beginning to worry. This time he wasn't going to deny it.

“Y/N! SHUT HER DOWN!”

“MASTER, I CAN'T! PLEASE!”

The world round the Master began to ring with a high pitched shriek. A piercing ring that echoed throughout the underhenge. The timelord winced, scrunching up his face and baring his teeth as he shrunk away from the din. Beside his ear he could hear your screams, the Tardis hurtling towards the unknown. Until suddenly, zap. Crackle. Nothing.

“Y/n, can you hear me!?”

The communicator line went dead.

The Master was growing more tense by the second. And even angrier still.

“I order you to obey! Why do you want me, why do you want my Y/n’s memories-”

The Roman soldier to his left gave a grim admittance, staring forwards at the growing light shining from within the Pandorica. It was almost hypnotic to the lumps of plastic surrounding him, something he’d consider himself a seasoned expert of. But this was different. This still stunk of betrayal and subterfuge. And also a slight loss of pride.

“The Pandorica is ready.”

The Master should have been excited. Ready to meet this mythical creature, a ghost in time, a legend. But now he felt slightly sick. He leered up at the soldier, antagonizing the guard.

“Ready for what, eh? What other big bads have you around their pinkie this time?”

The plethora of Romans did not speak. They simply continued to stare.

“I’m going to tell you again, let me go. You took your orders from me, once- you should know who I am! I am the Master!”

“Correct. Subject has self identified.”

The Master's face practically drained of all color. He daren't move his head to look, knowing exactly what scum of the universe was waiting behind him. The sound of the Daleks still sent a quiver of tangible fear down his spine. It had been years since the time war, centuries since the destruction of Skaro. Of Gallifrey. But the Daleks had not only destroyed his people, they had executed him personally. And in the twisted sense of poetry, were the reason he was brought back from the dead. A soldier to fight in the universal war- the only time he decided to be like the Doctor, running away to the end of the universe to escape the carnage that gave the blood red skies and grass of home a brand new meaning. 

He wouldn't say he feared them. But a dead Dalek was much more preferable than a living one.

Just like his old face had said. Stupid tin boxes.

“The subject has identified himself. Scan complete. You are the Master.”

“Well, you lot look different. Fancied an upgrade?”

He watched the Daleks, three in a crow, creep towards his line of vision. They were bulky things now, taller than before, each with a garishly bright color scheme that he almost wanted to shield his eyes from. An ugly design for an ugly creature.

“Or is that a poor turn of phrase?”

“YOUR LIMITS, CAPACITIES AND WEAKNESSES HAVE BEEN EXTRAPOLATED. YOU HAVE BEEN CONFIRMED”

Oh great. More Cybermen. If you were here, you’d tease him relentlessly for the reunion. You had earlier, suggesting he take the Cyber parts home and build his own. With a flash of white and a digital blue haze, the Cyber leader phased into vision, followed by two further Cybermen. All carrying large black weapons, much like what he’d found earlier.

“Oh, I was waiting for you to show up. Just can't stay away from me, can you?”

“Your arrogance is continued!”

Sontarans. Fabulous. In another flash, the squadron of Sontarans had appeared in the Underhenge, proudly brandishing their blasters. Before the Master could even calculate a response, the whole room seemed to glow in fire. The Pandorica was still slowly creaking open, the beam of light shining brighter and brighter. The Master, who stood right in its glow, had to shrink away and squint from its brightness.

Teleportation fields, transfer rays, dimensionally transcendental movement corridors, it seemed the world and his wife were cramming themselves into the cavern below the rocks. The Master, now adapting to the light, was met with an endless sea of familiar faces. 

Draconians, Ogrons, Juddoon, Kasaavin, Axonites, Cheetah Warriors, Sea Devils, and even their silurian cousins. Even some faces he’d never seen before littered the crowd, some other foes he’d briefly met but never spared a thought to. Sycorax, Hoix, Zygons, members of the Trickster Brigade, Clockwork Droids- and tall, slender men in black suits with a name he couldn't quite remember. He even struggled to remember they were there, looming in the background behind the busying crowd.

The great monsters of the universe had gathered at the Pandorica. 

“The Pandorica is ready!”

The Sontaran leader cried. Hesitantly, the Master dared to ask.

“Ready for what?”

The white Dalek, the new supreme, slowly moved closer.

“Ready. For. you.”

 The sides of the Pandorica finally slid into position, the blinding shroud of light dissipating. Finally, the Master could see what was before him in the darkness of the cavern. The box had split open to reveal a mechanised chair, almost like a throne. Callous and black, the metal chair was embedded deep into the heart of the Pandorica. Its exterior was fitted with several restraints, the square shaped shackles glowing the same green as the exterior patterns. Two ankles, two wrists, and over the shoulders- any being within would be unable to break free. Or even attempt to escape.

Slowly, the puzzle, not unlike the box in the fairy tale of Pandora, was beginning to slot together. The Master turned to look at the aliens surrounding him- co conspirators, enemies, allies. All had stood to the sides of the room, leaving a walkway between himself and the Pandorica. They stood, watching intently, as the realisation began to appear upon the renegade Time Lords face.

The path was clear. The restraints on the chair had retracted outwards, unlocking themselves. The Pandorica was empty.

But the Master knew. 

Not for long.

“Wait, you can't-”

But they already had. The Nestenes began to walk forwards, dragging the Master along with them by his armpits. The timelord kicked and fought their grasp, his grey shoes kicking up dust as he scrambled to find resistance in his footing. The surrounding monsters watched on as the Master fought for his freedom, desperately trying to pull away from the plastic men. He shouted, grunted, bared his teeth, but no amount of tugging and shouting could break the Master free. The Silurians tilted their heads, hissing. The Draconians stood with poised disapproval. The Daleks and Cybermen stood proudly at the front of the line, the Judoon watching silently with the authority of the shadow proclamation. All those creatures, lit by the roaring fire of the flickering torches on the wall.

The Roman imposters dragged the Master to the empty chair, their strength unmatched as they heaved the Time Lord into the waiting seat. He let out a furious yell as the restraints snapped shut around him, his body yanked backwards into the chair. First his wrists, then his ankles, then his shoulders. The entrapments of the Pandorica had shackled him down to his seat. A last set of restraints emerged from within the structure itself, entangling themselves around the Master's waist and stomach, pressing tight against his torso and locking him firmly into the chair. A single light shone from above, acting as a spotlight over the Master’s head. All eyes could see the Time Lord struggle and fight. All eyes knew it was useless. Exactly how they’d designed it to be.

“No, you can't do this to me!”

The Master was visibly rippling with rage.

“All those times I've helped you all!”

“YOUR ASSISTANCE HAS BEEN A SCOURGE ON THE CYBER RACE.”

The Cyberman with black handles spoke, as monotone and electronic as ever. The Master widened his eyes.

“No-”

“Your presence within the universe has caused vital damage to Dalek strategy.”

“All our plans, every time you step in, have failed to reach fruition! The glory of the Sontaran empire is threatened by your hand!”

The Master turned to look at every monster surrounding the box. The pathway had closed, the races and creatures surging forwards, cornering him even more within the machine. Their faces, if they had one, were full of hatred and disdain. Even the robots among the crowd were seemingly glaring. And those without faces watched on with agreement. The Master glared between them, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

“So, what? You blame me for everything? Want to lock me in a box because you blame me for all your problems!?”

“Incorrect.”

The Daleks' voice was scratchy and mutilated. Much like the creature inside the casing.

“The Pandorica was constructed to provide safety for the Alliance. You have aligned yourself with the Doctor.”

The Master paused for a moment, staring down at the supreme Dalek. How it stood there, with all its pride and might, and accused him of such a thing. He couldn't help but laugh. And so he did. The Master barked out a laugh, teeth bared and head falling back as he sat shackled to the Pandorica.

“Me? With her? Who told you that?”

“CYBER DATA HAS CONFIRMED. YOUR PREVIOUS INCARNATION ASSISTED THE DOCTOR IN CYBER DESTRUCTION.”

“Missy? Really? A five foot four mistress of evil scared you so much you had to put me in a box?”

“Your identity as the Mistress has been confirmed to stand in allegiance with the Doctor. It's a well known fact you chose to stand alongside them. Who knows what chaos you could harbour with your… track record of derailment.”

The Draconian leader stood proud among his council. The Master sent him a scowl, his laughter dying out.

“You think I'm the Doctor's little helper? Her weapon against you all, the crazy old Master, happy to do her dirty work? News flash, I've tried to kill her! Yeah, she's a she now, it's her turn! Some of you I've even worked with! I helped YOU with the Cyberium!”

“The evidence shows otherwise. You simply can no longer be trusted.”

The Kasaavin leader dared to talk against him. The Master questioned how he could even be here, after the Doctor's exile of their race from the planet. Their hatred for him must be strong enough to transcend dimensions. It was almost romantic.

“I’m nothing like the Doctor! I don't even LIKE the Doctor! Sure, I had a bit of a wobble in morals, tried to be good..ish… but I'm back!”

The Master was positively exasperated. His messy hair and wide eyes making him look manic.

“So can somebody, anybody: any man, woman, robot… fish thing. I don't care. Can somebody tell me, what do you all think makes me like the Doctor?”

There was silence across the room. The Master's outburst had made them think. The Master watched them, eyes begging for an acceptable reply. Finally, the Cyberman spoke.

“YOU HAVE GROWN SENTIMENTAL. YOU HAVE TAKEN A COMPANION.”

You. Oh, you. This couldn't just be about you.

The variables began to bubble and clash within the Master's brains. Everything seemed to come back to you. Your choice in trip, your favorite subject, favorite book, you attack from the guard, your fake identity as a queen. And your current fate... However unknown it was.

Surely this couldn't be about you.

“The memories of your companion were extrapolated. A scenario was formed as a test of your intentions.”

“Mercy for a human! Defence over a fleshy girl, instead of the opportunity for universal destruction! Your allegiance cannot be guaranteed, your newfound kindness poses a threat to us all!”

The Master huffed, his hearts fighting within his chest. This couldn't be happening.

“It was you, wasn't it? You took took control of my Tardis-”

“YOUR COMPANION WILL BE DISPOSED OF. YOUR IMPRISONMENT IS A RESULT OF YOUR MERCY.”

“You fell into a trap that you simply could not resist. The draconian empire condemns you.”

“You’re going to kill her, and imprison me, just because you can't trust me to not be good!?”

“The safety of the alliance is paramount.  Your history of meddling in Dalek affairs, your part in the destruction of Skarro and our creator, the data cannot be ignored.”

The Master couldn't breathe. The surrounding forces were drawing closer and closer, surrounding him and his line of vision. The walls of the chamber had disappeared within the bodies of the alliance. They were really going to turn on him. They really intended to kill you.

“We will save our universe. From you!”

His mouth was dry. His palms were sweating, his breathing shallow, his rage burning like the brightest of suns. The Master glared upon the alliance, eyes twitching with inconsolable rage. This day had been long. He’d been tested far too much, pushed way too far. This morning he was lying in bed, embracing the warmth of the Tardis and your body against his own. But now his world was being stripped away from him. 

Angry didn't begin to cover it.

“Now you listen to me- you bring her back, you know for a fact the destruction of a Tardis in the Vortex will ripple through this universe. And then you’ll have me to deal with.”

“NEGATIVE. YOUR IMPRISONMENT CANNOT BE AVOIDED.”

“Your companion will perish. Your isolation will be permanent. This is confirmed.”

The Master let out a furious scream, a bitter yell that ripped harshly against the back of his throat. The tribe of Silurians hissed and stepped backwards, raising their weapons.

“LISTEN TO ME! If she dies, if my ship burns, I will rip this box apart inch by inch and I will destroy every single one of your ugly little races!”

His shoulders were heaving, spit flying from his mouth as he spat between gritted teeth.

“I will bring down destruction on every one of your stupid little planets and your silly little spaceships. I’m a Time Lord, my people have made a mockery of you since the days you formed on your tiny little rocks, floating through space. I’ll show you how merciful I can truly be as I kill you all slowly, one by one, so you can watch what happens when you think you can destroy me. I am the Master, and you will all pay for this!”

The Cyber leader stepped forwards, clenching a fist to its chest. It looked deep into the Master's eyes, its soulless black pits of metal mesh showing no humanity nor hesitation.

“SEAL THE PANDORICA.”

“Listen to me, you will obey me! The Tardis will implode, your worlds are in so much more danger than you could possibly realise!”

The heavy walls of the Pandorica began to slide shut. The Master was frantic, tugging and yanking against his bonds. Nothing. The metal locks were clasped tight, his body imprisoned and trapped against the seat. His eyes were enormous, his hair flopping from side to side as he continued to fight against the seat. Still, there was no way of escape. No amount of fighting would work. That didn't stop him from trying his best.

“The universe will rot and perish if you harm her! Everything you know will be nothing but ash, I promise you! All your suns, your moons, your hopes, I will destroy each and every one of them! You can't do this to me! I am the Master! You will obey me!”

The Master's words echoed through the Underhenge, bouncing off every wall and dissolving into the gathered crowd. The alliance watched on as the timelord begged for his freedom, promising destruction in his wake. But these were songs they had heard before. Plans ruined by opportune chance, and disappointing failure at the hands of his old friend.

“YOU WILL OBEY ME!”

The Master screamed, as the walls of the Pandorica finally snapped shut. With a hiss the edges of the box sealed together, the mechanical insides ticking away as the glowing green sides twisted and interlocked. As the box gave its last rumble, the Pandorica was finally sealed. The legendary trickster, the mischief maker that had destroyed worlds and brought down civilisations, finally locked within.

The Tardis hurtled through the Vortex, crashing against the walls of time, its engines phasing and crying out as the cloister bell rang from within. You crawled across the floor, scrambling back towards the console, fingers grasping onto anything they could purchase. Sparks flew beside your head, the cables linked to the belly of the console fizzing and pulsating as you begged the console to calm down. You’d been with her for years now, you knew how the Tardis would normally fly. This definitely wasn't her doing. This definitely wasn't her in control.

Your hand smacked hard against the side of the communicator, the line still ringing out every time. You’d tried to call the Master several times, each instance ringing and ringing with no return. He never refused to reply. You clutched on tight as another wave of turbulence hit the flight deck, the trinkets and knick-knacks you’d gathered on your travels tumbling from every shelf and crashing into nothingness against the floor. 

“Please, Master, answer me!”

Nothing. He simply wasn't there.

You couldn't cry yet, there was still hope. Or at least, you tried to convince yourself. You hoped for a miracle, for something that would help you regain control of the Tardis. You didn't want to die.

“Master, please! I’ve not got much time!”

Your calls were falling on deaf ears. Nothing was going to save you. A rogue spark suddenly flew from the console, knocking you backwards as the Tardis collided with the Vortex once more. You flung back towards the floor, head colliding with the hardwood as you fell. You felt the impact through your whole body, all strength slipping through your fingers as your eyelids felt heavy. From your position on the floor you could see out the window, the reflection of the flaming Tardis console bathing the Vortex in deep orange.

“Master, I love you, I'm sorry…”

You whispered, your vision beginning to fade. You gazed deeper into space, watching as the world shook and disappeared around you.

And as you blacked out, every star began to fade from the sky.

[samstrugglingwithlife]

Extremely Shy And Cute S/O That Loves Physical Affection

Genre: Fluff

Characters: Ushijima, Sugawara, Akaashi

Warning: I’ve had six coffees in the past two hours so I have no clue what I just wrote. I kinda blacked out so there may be swearing. Let me know what I wrote.

A/N: I’m really sorry that I used this request to try and get over writer’s block. I hope you like it still and enjoy the headcanons, bulletpoints brain farts, thing types stuff down there. P.s. Reader, whomst the heck gave you the right to be this cute. I am in love.

USHIJIMA

This guy over here looks like he ain’t never felt shit in his life ever, but those who know him, I’m talking about the team, know that mans is whipped for your very existence. How can he not? You’re so cute and soft and cuddly, and you’re so sweet when you shyly scoot close to him so you can feel his warmth.

It’s a surprise, that you, who is so shy and cute, a true definition of smol uwu baby, is dating this intimidating, socially inept, giant, God of War looking guy. Tendou loves to point this out every chance he gets.

You somehow wormed your way into his heart, and now you’re never leaving, ever. 

You’re a cutie, despite being very timid and smol, you’re a very affectionate individual. You love to cuddle, hug, hold hands and wear your boyfriend’s extra-large sweaters. Wakatoshi loves to give you what you want; cuddles? He’s opening his arms wide open, so you can crawl into his embrace and nuzzle into his warmth. You want kisses? Wakatoshi will give you many kisses. You want a hug? He’s picking you up into his arms and hugging you so tight that it feels like nothing in the world can take you away from his arms. He does it all with a smile on his face.

Of course, it wasn’t always like this, the fact the two of you started dating is in itself a miracle, but the real issue is that you’re affectionate, you like to give and receive affection. Ushijima, however, is one dense son of a bitch, he didn’t really initiate any form of physical touch other than maybe holding your hand; you dropping hints did nothing to help, so you had to tell him, using words, that you want more affection and want to give more affection. Your face has never felt hotter and more flustered than it was on that day.

From that day onwards, Wakatoshi has been paying more attention, even though sometimes he fails to figure out why you’re holding your arms open and looking at him like that, but y'know A for effort.

Tendou likes to playfully gag or hoot when during breaks, in between practices, you’re sitting next to Wakatoshi, clung onto his side, wrapping your arms around his bicep and excitedly telling him about your day as he listens and even adds in his two cents to your conversation.

Oikawa hates watching Ushijima enter the competition venue with you walking beside him, his arm around your shoulders and the whole team walking behind the two of you. How come Oikawa keeps getting dumped and that brute Ushiwaka has such a cute little lover, it is beyond him. Oikawa has accused Ushiwaka of black magic and dark arts.

Anyway, my point, mans is learning to give just as much affection to you as you give to him, he has no problems with you hugging him and snuggling to his side, heck! he has no problem if you cling onto his back like a koala bear; you’re his baby and he will do anything for your cute, shy, uwu baby self. I said what I said.

SUGAWARA

Very opposite of the mans above. You don’t have to ask, thank God for that, your shy soul has been saved, Sugawara will coddle you no questions asked.

He is a very sensible, slightly feral, guy. He understands that you love physical forms of affection like cuddling and hugging and kissing, but you’re afraid to ask due to your timid nature; so after some time of getting to know you, he knows just what exactly you want with a single look at your face.

He also enjoys physical affection just as much as you, so rather than him, you should be the one prepared for a barrage of kisses and hugs.

Sugawara finds you extremely cute when you stumble over your words some times or when you get flustered by something and avoid making eye contact with people. 

He feels very protective of you then, and in most cases, he comes running to your aid if you’re having trouble communicating with strangers; however, he also insists that he wants to help you gain the confidence to speak up; only because the you that he knows is so charming that the world is missing out on your personality.

Many times he has to contain his ‘fanboying’, for the lack of a better word, when you shyly wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his warmth. He will wrap his arms tightly around your form and sway a little with a content sigh.

He calls you his ‘sweet cocoon’ whenever you show up in your ginormous sweaters, boy can’t contain himself, he has to physically restrain himself from either jumping onto the nearest surface with you to cuddle you to death or fucking kiss you until you want to stop.

Listen, I have this headcanon that one of his types is a soft, cuddly and affectionate lover so yeah. I can write so much more but then I’d just be repeating myself. He loves you, you cute, shy little baby. The end.

AKAASHI

First of all, he keeps malfunctioning because you exist. How are you even real, Y/n?!

Seconds, this dude LIVES for you. You’re so soft and sweet, he has a tough time coming to terms with the fact that you are dating him of all people.

Now that that’s out of the way. Akaashi wasn’t really into physically showing his love and affection, that is until you came along. 

Akaashi thinks you’re so sweet and cute, with your cute little sweater paws and your shy downcast eyes. You’re quiet because of your timidness, but you’re so cute when you finally lift your head to peck him on the lips or when you shyly wrap your arms around his neck in an innocent little hug.

Whenever the two of you are alone, you would raise your arms, silently asking for a hug or cuddles, Akaashi always chuckles and teases you for a bit by purposely asking if you want a high five, or do you want to dance, or are you stretching. However, he never stalls for too long and always relents within moments.

Akaashi always gives you what you want without asking any questions or demanding anything in return.

He feels so blessed that someone as affectionate and giving as you wants to be with him. He completely understands how you’re too shy to say anything, and he always appreciates your efforts when you try to step out of your comfort zone and say things you’re too shy to say.

Akaashi simply adores your timid, cute, loving and giving nature and he has no problems giving you want, that is cuddles and kisses and hugs and holding your hand and calling you cute nicknames. Even if Bokuto and his teammates are teasing him for being this way.

[jinterlude]

Knock

→ Pairing: Kim Myungjun x Reader (female OC) [feat. Kim Seokjin and Park Jinwoo] → Genre(s): Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, and & Slight-Angst → AUs/Tropes: Non-Idolverse, Fashionista!Reader, Fashion Editor!Reader, Accountant!Myungjun, Strangers to Lovers trope → Word Count: 5.6K → Warning(s) & Rating: alcohol, alcohol consumption, heartbreak, swearing, & shameless flirting from MJ | PG-15 → Summary: In what seemed like a normal meetup with a friend ended up changing your life forever... → A/N: The majority of this story is set in the past; hence, the past tense, but near the end, it does switch to present tense as the two leading characters finish reminiscing about their first meeting! I apologize in advance if it’s a bit confusing and/or hard to read! I will use some sort of line break to separate the past from the present to make it, hopefully, a tad easier!  ☄ This one-shot is dedicated to an incredibly good friend of mine, Beanie @jinned​, who is the sole reason why I even got into Astro and officially place MJ on my list of ULTS. He may or may not even be ult of ults. We will see! 

“In the end, you’ll thank me as our marriage would’ve been a mistake...You know it. And I know it…” 

That phrase knocked the wind out of you as you remained speechless ‒ practically mute ‒ while the loud and bustling noise of the fine dining restaurant continued in the background. You opened your mouth, desperate to form a coherent sentence. Shit. Even an audible word would suffice, but you honestly couldn’t.

The person you firmly believed, with all your heart, that he was the one for you, sat right across the table and declared that the wedding was off—terminated. 

The wedding was scheduled to happen in just two months. Two...fucking...months…

“___,” Your fiancé began, breaking you away from your thoughts, “I honestly can’t express how deeply sorry I am for doing this to you, but it was the only way I can preserve our twenty-something friendship.”

“Friendship?” You scoffed, finally finding your voice. “You broke our year-long engagement so that you can PRESERVE OUR FRIENDSHIP?! Are you kidding me, Kim Seokjin?!” You practically boomed, alarming the patrons around you, but you didn’t care. 

Seokjin tried to calm you but ultimately fails. Your emotions ran rampant throughout your body that nothing and no one could relax you. Well, Seokjin used to be able to, but since he’s the source of your fury, it’s pointless. 

Forcing an airy chuckle, you reached over to your wine glass, drinking it all in seconds. The cool liquid hits the back of your throat but soon leaves behind this warm sensation. You felt that warmth settles within your cheeks, creating this pinkish hue, as you flag down a passing waiter and swiftly order another glass of your favorite wine. Within minutes, your second glass of wine appeared right in front of you. At first, you’re tempted to down it as you’ve done with the first glass, but then you opted against it. The last thing you needed to be was a drunken, heartbroken woman in a luxurious restaurant. At the same time, your ex-fiancé remained calm and collected. Then, the surrounding people - both the workers and customers ‒ would sympathize with him and utter phrases like, “Damn. He dodged a bullet. Look at the way she’s behaving, especially after he explained that he only wants to preserve their friendship.” 

“God damn it…” You whispered, taking a long, deep breath, as you realize that Seokjin is right. Your marriage would be a mistake, especially if you’ve fallen out of love with him. 

“___?” Seokjin questioned, noting this trance-like expression written all over your precious face. 

“Why do you have to be right? Even up until the end of our relationship, you just have to be right…” You trailed on as a small, almost nostalgic-like smile slowly dances across your face. 

Seokjin chuckled softly, “Well, someone has to be.” 

“Yeah…” You nodded, maintaining that tiny grin as your eyes trail down to your ring finger. Slowly, you slid off the engagement ring, freeing yourself of this heavy burden that you’ve never known you had until tonight. Then, with your right hand, you placed it gently in front of Seokjin, saying one last farewell to him. You thanked him for being your first of every romantic milestone you’ve experienced.

As you stood up, placing a few twenty-dollar bills on the table, you said softly, 

“I hope you find someone that will make you unconditionally happy.”

“I hope the same for you, ___. I truly do hope you find your soulmate.” 

You uttered a quick thanks before walking from the table and towards a new chapter in your life. 

An intriguing yet uncertain chapter where you explored the idea of being single again after so many years. 

It should be a fun adventure, right? 

Well, it was in the beginning. Yet like with everything else in life, it was only natural you’d experience some ‒ let’s just say ‒ writer’s block. 

The first few pages contained incredible details of the first year since your breakup from Seokjin. You found yourself going back to school and majoring in fashion while finding the time to minor in journalism. During that good old university life, you met a person who you now considered a dear, close friend of yours. 

Eun Byeol. Now that was a true definition of a “ride or die” friend. To this day, you still remember how you essentially handcuffed your roommate-turned-best friend to the closet door handle, preventing her from driving over to your ex-fiancé’s place and destroying his most prized possession. Yep. You guessed it—his 1960s candy red Jaguar E-Type car. Stereotypical of a fella valuing his vintage ride above anything else, but shit. Even you found yourself admiring that beautiful car once in a while. 

But that was ancient history. Old news—just like your editorial on the most fashion show in Milan would be if you didn’t stop reminiscing about your first love and haul your ass. 

Lightly shaking your head, forcing yourself back into reality, you cleared your throat a few times, sniffing the Tropical fruit scents that lingered around your office. 

“I could really go for a mango shaved ice…” You muttered, blankly staring at your document as little to no inspiration enters your mind. You drummed your fingers against the keys, desperately hoping that something - anything - would jump right out of your brilliant mind and land directly on the page; thus, resulting in a finished article to hand over to the boss lady. 

Yet here you sat for another couple of hours staring at the same paragraph. You were pretty sure that you edited that paragraph to the point that it wasn’t even a paragraph. You somehow managed to dwindle it down to a three-sentence summary of Emma Aruda, a rising top model, and how stunning she looked walking the runway. Great. Now your column was too short, thanks to your sudden need to edit before it was even completed. 

“Come on, inspiration…” You groaned, slouching in your office chair as you swiveled back and forth, looking at the blanket of white that you called a ceiling. 

“You know...the longer you keep your head positioned like that, the higher the chance of your brain cells leaving will be…” quipped a familiar voice, causing you to swivel towards your door. 

Soon, a small grin formed on your face as you lightly scoffed at that person’s words. 

“Well, hello to you too, Eun Byeol.” You greeted, sitting up straight but still resting your elbows on the arms of your chair.

Eun Byeol flashed a warm smile ‒ so warm and inviting that it could even get the coldest, most standoffish person to greet her back ‒ as she strode towards your desk and leaned against the edge. 

“Dumb question, but what’s with frustration radiating off of you?” 

“Oh, my brain stupidly remembered my relationship with Seokjin while I was in the middle of writing this article, and now I’m stuck…”

You heard Eun Byeol winced, grimacing as you went into details of the memories that resurfaced in your mind. As each word escaped your sweet lips, the more this unbearable stab pressed against the chest. To be more precise, this cruciating pain that invaded your heart. 

“Damn, ___. It’s been like, what? Five years since he called off the engagement? I thought you were officially over that arrogant ass.”  asked Eun Byeol, clearly fed up with your ex, as evidence in her tone of voice. You couldn’t help but shrink in your chair as each of your drear friend’s words grazed your soft skin. 

Taking a long, deep breath before exhaling slowly, you tilted your head towards your friend, revealing a small and remorseful smile. You felt guilty mentioning him towards, fully aware of how she had rather colorful opinions of him. 

“I am over him, but can you blame me for remembering the good old days I experienced with him?” 

Now, it was your friend’s turn to feel a tad guilty for allowing and directing her fury towards you. Eun Byeol knew you were over him, but you fell victim to the old saying, “One never truly forgets their first love,” and that was Seokjin. He was your first love, and he might be even your last—unless her boyfriend’s longtime friend was still single. 

Then, a lightbulb lit up in her devious mind as this scheming smirk danced across her face, instantly alerting you. That smirk usually led to some rather “exciting” shenanigans, and most often than not, you went home questioning your life choices and wondering how on Earth did your friendship with Eun Byeol last this long. 

As you opened your mouth, ready to warn your friend, she beat you the punch. 

“What are you doing tonight?” 

“Uh, besides pulling an all-nighter to finish this article? Nothing. Why?” You asked with a wary expression. Your eyes slightly narrowed while your brows became knitted together. 

“Wrong! You’re coming out with me for drinks at this bar Jinwoo and I usually frequent whenever our schedules allow it.” Eun Byeol announced, overly excited, further adding to your suspicions. 

You swiftly glanced at your editorial piece before flickering your gaze back to your friend. You sucked in some air through your clenched teeth. Your mind desperately tried to find any, if at all, hidden motives behind Eun Byeol’s random invitation. Unfortunately, you came up with nothing. No secret plans that laid underneath the seemingly harmless invite that your brain could zero in on. 

“It’s just the two of us, right?” You asked, feeling apprehensive towards Eun Byeol’s invite. 

Eun Byeol simply nodded, smiling brightly as she promised you that it would be just the two of you, and that was all. 

After mulling it over for a good minute or two, you whined loudly before agreeing to go out with her. 

“But I’m stopping after two Whiskey Sours! I still have a deadline to meet, unlike someone who’s currently in my office and clearly being a bad influence.” 

Eun Byeol snorted in response, “Please. If I was such a bad influence, would I suggest that we steal Seokjin’s car and take it on a joy ride?”

“Actually, you did. Like, several times.” 

“Shut up and write your damn column.” Teased Eun Byeol before exiting your office. As she created enough distance between her and your office, she fished out her phone from the pocket of her black slacks and sent a quick text message to her boyfriend. A message that read,

“Hey, can you convince MJ to come to our favorite bar? I’d think he’d be perfect for ___!” 

Not even a minute after pressing send, Eun Byeol received a response that said, 

“I’ll do my best, but he’s been moping lately since his last date ghosted him without any warning. Plus, you can’t forget how soul-sucking our line of work is, babe.”

Eun Byeol giggled softly as she typed out, 

“Even more reason to add a certain fashionista to his dull life. She’ll liven it up with her colorful and bright personality,” 

She then scrolled through her list of emojis, picking the perfect one before sending it. After waiting for what seemed like ten minutes, her boyfriend didn’t reply, meaning that he was on board and hopefully planting the seed at that moment. 

“Oh, please let them hit it off…” thought Eun Byeol as she journeyed back to her office, dying to know if her boyfriend executed his mission perfectly. 

Yet like with any task, there were bound to be tiny hiccups as Jinwoo exhausted all his go-to methods to convince his close friend, Kim Myungjun. While Eun Byeol and ___ worked at one of the top fashion empires, he and Myungjun worked a regular office job, crunching numbers for their CEO. 

Again, a soul-crushing type of profession, and it didn’t help that their office space was oddly white. Everywhere Jinwoo turned, it was just pure white. Apparently, someone thought it’d be a brilliant idea to add fluorescent lighting into the mi; the entire building gave off this abnormally cleanliness vibe. 

Every day that Jinwoo walked into the office, he seriously felt that he entered that agency from the hit movie Men in Black, especially in his black and white two-piece suit that his company required the workers to wear.  What was next? He’d get a cool gadget that wiped civilians’ memories? 

“Oh, man. That’d be amazing…” He mumbled, unaware of someone standing behind him. 

“What’d be amazing, JinJin?” asked an all too familiar voice belonging to a person that Jinwoo actually had to see. 

The eager man turned his chair around, now face-to-face with his close friend and coworker—Myungjun. 

Quickly clearing his throat, Jinwoo plastered on the warmest smile his face could handle and happily greeted his friend. 

Myungjun, at first, felt weirded out by his friend’s sudden surge in energy but soon brushed it off. He then matched Jinwoo’s energy, capturing the attention of a few bystanders. 

“So back to my question, what would be amazing?” questioned Myungjun, ignoring the strange glances he and Jinwoo earned from their coworkers. 

“Um…” Jinwoo began, nervously chuckling, “It would be amazing if you and I go out for drinks tonight, especially after how shitty this week has been.” 

“I don’t know, man, like you said, it’s been a shitty week, and I don’t think I’m up for going out and having a fun time with you and the rest of our buddies.” 

“Come on, MJ, you’re still not moping about what’s her face? She’s not worth your time, especially when you weren’t worth hers.” Jinwoo retorted, hoping that his tough-love approach would entice him to come out and meet his girlfriend’s friend. Sadly, it didn’t. If anything, his words made Myungjun even more upset as this solemn expression washed over his once joyous face. Now, his friend looked as if someone took his heart right out of his chest and crushed it with their bare hands. 

“Alright...new approach…” Jinwoo switched tactics, going for the more “brotherly advice” approach, “Look, I was out of line, and for that, I’m sorry MJ. But I honestly hate seeing you upset over her, so please come out with me tonight. Tomorrow, you can sit at home alone and mope on the couch. Deal?” 

Myungjun made a face, weighing his options but ultimately leaning towards going out. After all, Jinwoo was right. His loneliness and favorite couch would be there tomorrow, so where was the harm in downing a few shots of Vodka to numb the hurt?

“Fine, deal. What’s this place called?” 

“Ahora.” 

A quizzical expression slowly washed over Myungjun’s face as he couldn’t help but question the intriguing choice of that bar name. 

While the uncertainty still filled his entire body, something deep within told him that something ‒ or maybe someone ‒ would change his life after tonight. 

Mustering his signature thousand-watt smile; his eyes practically disappeared as he did, Myungjun gave his friend a thumb’s up and said, 

“Alright. See you tonight! Maybe you and I can finally see who can drink the most without acting goofy after the third drink!”

Jinwoo playfully shook his head, letting out a few light chuckles. 

“I don’t know, my dude. I think I got you beat the last time we had our little drinking competition.” He teased, masking his hidden motive behind inviting his buddy out. Secretly, he hoped that Myungjun would ask like his goofy self since, according to Eun Byeol, you had a thing for comedic guys. 

Now, the real question was, how would Myungjun successfully capture your heart? 

“So, what should I wear?” Jinwoo heard Myungjun ask, forcibly removing him from his frenzy thoughts. 

“Um…” Jinwoo paused, silently panicking since his girlfriend never told him what you were going to wear tonight or even your preferred style on men. “Do you still have that purple and black striped sweater? You know with that creamy-tan color as well? I think it might be cold.” He suggested though he was unsure of his own recommendation. Honestly, he began questioning his life choices when he said, “purple and black striped sweater.” 

A faint hum emitted from Myungjun’s lips while he mulled over his buddy’s fashion suggestion. Then, he simply shrugged, going along with Jinwoo’s choice. 

“Yeah, I think I have that sweater still. Wait.” The biggest grin danced across his handsome face, “I knew you loved that sweater on me!” He cheered, flinging his arms around Jinwoo’s neck and giving him the warmest hug known to man. 

“Let go! People are staring at us weirdly!!”

“Let them stare! I want the entire world to know how amazing of a friend you are to me!”

“Damn, you just had to make it even creepier. Didn’t you?” 

“You know me so well.”

Later that evening, while Myungjun knew what he’d wear on his night out with the fellas, you were the polar opposite. You rummaged through your walk-in closet, flinging every single clothing hanger you could get your hands on. You tossed aside the latest peacoats, dresses, wool sweaters, everything onto the floor because nothing matched the vision you had in your fashionista brain. While, yes, it was just going out for a few drinks with Eun Byeol, you still wanted to look reasonably decent just in case Mr. Right made an appearance. 

Silently scolding yourself while you tap the pads of your fingers against one another as you desperately try to capture the perfect attire you envisioned yourself. Minutes had gone by, and you still drew a blank. You even pressed your cold lips against your fingers, slightly enjoying the warmth that radiated from your hands. Then, it finally dawned on you as millions of light bulbs lit up in your pretty mind like a beautiful and well-organized lamp display at a furniture store. 

“I’m a dumbass.” You teased, softly chuckling as you pulled out this dark gray pin-striped black peacoat and gently draping it over your desk chair. Then, you flipped through your rack, your fingers grazing the fabric of your blouses, button-ups, and plain old t-shirts. Your eyes scanned each article of clothing until you found the perfect blouse that would compliment the jacket perfectly. You pulled out this satin white long-sleeved blouse with ruffles on the ends of both sleeves and the collar. 

With a pleased smile, you gently laid the blouse over the jacket before grabbing a nice pair of navy blue slacks. The very same pair of slacks that Eun Byeol has dubbed “the highlighter” because apparently it perfectly accentuated the best parts of your body—whatever that meant. 

Grabbing both the coat and blouse with your pants draped over your forearm, you made your way towards the restroom. Just as you’re about to disappear into the well-lit room, you commanded your Alexa to play your go-to “getting ready” song, “Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat).” The second the opening beat dropped, you bobbed your head to the tune, even swaying your hips as you jammed out.

One by one, your lounge clothes dropped to the floor and soon replaced with your jaw-dropping outfit. You smoothed out any wrinkles that your eye instantly locked on before switching focus to your makeup. 

Now, this might not be an easy task compared to picking out your current outfit. Any look would pair well with your fashion statement. You could go for a “girl next door” look, but did you really want to portray an innocent person tonight, especially with drinks involved? Probably not. 

Suddenly, a short gasp exited your lips as you grabbed all the necessary components for your femme fatale look. Your outfit almost reminded you of the main heroine in a 1940s movie. 

“Okay, let’s see how red I can get my lips this time.” 

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Myungjun wasn’t exactly having the time of his life.  He remained still as a statue, staring blankly at his closet. Did he genuinely want to go out tonight? Part of him firmly believed that he only agreed to drink his sorrows away and forget about this girl that ghosted him a few weeks back. That was always his problem—he had the tendency to develop an infatuation before the girl does. It was honestly quite pathetic. 

Just as he was a step away from backing out from the hangout, a high-tone pitch echoed throughout Myungjun’s condo. 

With a curious expression, Myungjun shuffled his feet towards his phone, taking it off the charger. His brows perked up as he saw that he received a text message from Jinwoo. 

“Huh. Maybe Jinwoo wants to back out.” He wishfully thought, unlocking his phone to read the message. It said, 

“Hey man, I’m going to be a few minutes late, so you can get a head start on our little drinking competition!” 

Nodding his head, Myungjun hit the message box. Just as he was about to type out his reply, a photo appeared. The image contained a person, who looked to be female, and to his dismay, her head was cropped out. 

“Okay?” He thought, typing out his reply and asking his friend why he received a picture of a woman with excellent taste in clothing. Then, for laughs, Myungjun added, “Is that what you’re wearing, JinJin? I didn’t peg you as the type to wear a frilly blouse.” 

Not even a minute later, the playful fellow received a response, 

“Fuck you, MJ! And to answer your serious question, if you see this girl, can you politely let her know that Eun Byeol is also running late. Apparently, that lady is a college friend of Byeolie, and they coincidentally also wanted to meet at the bar we’re going to. Cool? Thanks!” 

Slightly shaking his head, Myungjun replied with a thumb’s up emoji before locking his phone. 

“Well, I guess you can’t back out now,” He muttered, opening his closet doors and revealing a wide array of clothing, coming in every color known to man. “What did that old man suggest earlier? Oh! Purple, cream-tan, and black pull-over!” Then, a sudden pause filled the air, “That was oddly specific of him to suggest…” He realized, thinking back to their conversation at work. Yet he merely shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it except his friend perhaps wanted him to look good just in case he’d were to meet his Miss Right. 

“Alright, MJ. Pick up the pace. We don’t want the pretty lady waiting too long, do we?” 

Sadly, that happened, and to put it frankly, you were pissed off at Eun Byeol for making you awkwardly wait for what seemed like forever. Granted, it was only an hour that you waited for her, but that was beside the point. 

Nope. The long wait time was not the sole reason behind your agitation. Nuh-uh. It was the fact that your oh-so-dear-friend failed to mention that every couple known to man appeared at the bar tonight. Thus, resulted in you nervously sitting alone at the bar, running the tip of your finger against the rim of your whiskey sour. You then gulped down the last remaining sips before almost slamming it on the counter. With a sour expression, you held up one finger and politely asked for another glass. Just as you mumbled a quick thanks, you felt someone tap your shoulder. 

Instead of giving the “drunken” stranger, more than likely looking for a one-night stand, you wave the person away, citing that you were already waiting for someone. 

“I mean, from the looks of it, I don’t think your friend is coming.” pointed out the stranger, with an unusual high-pitch voice. Though, to give the person the benefit of the doubt, you were used to deep, manly voices. This unknown bystander’s voice was honestly a breath of fresh air. 

Reaching for your second glass of the evening, you swiveled in your seat, coming face-to-face with the stranger. But the moment your eyes landed on him, you felt your jaw drop slightly, forming a tiny “o.” Holy crap, this guy is incredibly gorgeous. 

Quickly snapping out of your gaze, you cleared your throat. 

“I’m sorry? I. Um. What do you mean my friend is not coming?” 

“Just that. I mean, originally, I was supposed to be here 45 minutes ago and give you a heads up that Eun Byeol was running late. Still, I lost track of time getting ready to meet my friend here. However…” he trailed on, looking around. He, too, noticed all the couples chatting it up everywhere and anywhere in the bar that evening. “I’m starting to think that we were set up on a blind date.” 

You softly giggled, “Yeah, I’m getting that hunch as well...I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” You replied, unknowingly disregarding the fact that Myungjun mentioned your best friend’s name. 

“Oh! I’m Kim Myungjun, but my friends call me MJ,” Then he playfully winked at you, flashing a bright smile, “I can’t forget pretty girls, like yourself, as well.” 

You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief, “Well, I’ll think about it, but thank you for that disclaimer. Also, you can call me ____.” 

“What? No playful yet flirtatious tactic like me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The night is still young, MJ.” 

Hearing his nickname slip past your innocent lips, Myungjun couldn’t help but raise a brow with an interested gleam in his eyes. One corner of his mouth curved upwards as he observed your body language. He silently hoped for your non-verbal cues would give him the “okay” to continue his flirting. When he didn’t see any signs of uncomfortableness radiating off you, he took that as the first and ‒ hopefully ‒ of many positive reactions he’d gained from you throughout the evening. 

Clearing his throat, the suddenly nervous young man glanced around the busy establishment, looking for a vacant booth for the two of you to occupy. Lucky must be on his side as his focused gaze immediately locked on an empty stall in the far right corner. With pursed lips, he swiftly analyzed the location and the atmosphere that surrounded it. Myungjun noted how dimly lit that corner was. With the added candles, that location had this romantic aura swarming it and those who sat in that spot. 

It was perfect for this sudden blind date. 

“So, would you like to sit over there?” asked Myungjun, pointing towards the only empty booth. 

You followed his finger and landed on the isolated corner that screamed passion. Instantly, your eyes widened as your heart rapidly drummed against your chest. Oh, you weren’t prepared for this, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel this unexplainable excitement and giddiness. A few emotions that you hadn’t felt in a long time—not since your relationship with Seokjin. Yet to be quite honest, you didn’t feel scared. In fact, you were ready to take that plunge into the deep romantic ocean. You weren’t worried about drowning or hitting a bunch of jagged rocks. You just wanted to take that leap of faith and, perhaps, maybe Myungjun would catch you. 

With a long, drawn-out breath, you steadied your racing heart before answering him, 

“Yeah, let’s do it.” 

In return, Myungjun greeted with his signature thousand-watt smile, resulting in this warm sensation creeping on your pale cheeks. 

“Positive reaction number 2.” He silently cheered as he abruptly held out his hand, hoping you’d take it. “After you, m’lady,” said Myungjun with a hint of playfulness. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle, slightly shaking your head in the process.

“Why, thank you, my kind sir.” You played along, gently grasping his hand and curling your fingers around his. The second you did that, this unspeakable spark shot through both of your arms, surging through your entire body. What made that reaction spectacular was that he interlaced your fingers together as he softly smiled with a genuine warm expression written all over his handsome face. With that smile alone, all recent thoughts about Seokjin and any doubts caused by your former relationship evaporated into thin air. Now, it was just you and Myungjun. 

You took a mental note to thank Eun Byeol for setting up this blind date as you guided your bodies towards the booth. Naturally, you picked up the pace as you didn’t want anyone else to steal that perfect spot meant for the both of you. 

Little by little, you pushed through the sea of people, swiftly closing the gap between your bodies and the table. 

“Which side do you want?” You politely asked as you couldn’t help but notice a defeated couple look for somewhere else to sit. Huh. Perfect timing on your part. 

Myungjun softly tapped his chin with his free hand as this faint hum emitted from his lips. Then, a bold idea appeared in his mind. Depending on how you’d answer, he could either make incredible progress or back to square one with you. Well, it was time to find out. 

“I have a better idea. Why don’t I sit right next to you? You know so that you can hear me better, especially with how noisy it is right now.” 

A tiny squeal escaped your lips as your eyes went round. Your face flushed from Myungjun’s boldness. 

“Okay, ____. You need to form a string of coherent words.” You chastised yourself, feeling a tad foolish that you’re this nervous to the point that you can’t even form a simple sentence. “You can do it. All you need to say is, “Sure. You can sit next to me.” Is that so damn hard?” You mumbled to yourself—or so you thought. 

“Um. I don’t know, sweetheart. Is it tough to say that you want to sit next to me?”

“Uh...no?”

“Really? You don’t sound so sure of yourself.” 

“I mean, yes, we should sit right next to each other.” 

You nervously chuckled as you entered the booth, placing your drink on the edge of the table just before shuffling towards the middle of the table with Myungjun following after. You then kindly ask him if he could slide your almost finished Whiskey Sour to you, which he did but not without some playful quips towards you. He teased you for acting like a nervous wreck, blaming the fact that you probably had one too many drinks already. You argued back, stating that you only had two drinks and that it was all his fault for making you this worked up. 

Myungjun chuckled in response but soon, that boyish grin vanished from his face and was replaced with a scheming yet charming smirk. What was he planning? And as soon as you parted your sweet lips, Myungjun’s face was inches away from yours. One wrong you move and the two of you would lock lips right then and there. That’s how close you were to each other. 

“Oh? So, it’s my fault, then how are you feeling now?” He whispered. His warm breath fanned your cheeks as his gaze darted between your doe-like stare and your apple-red lips. “Am I making you extremely worked up—”

“Hold up! That’s not how our first date went, MJ.” You say, interrupting your boyfriend’s somewhat exaggerated story. You’re almost sure that he’s currently telling a rendition of what he wishes occurred on your first date. 

Myungjun scoffs, putting on the theatrics, clearly finding your words offensive. 

“It is so! I distinctly remember you had two drinks that evening; hence, you becoming a blushing mess around me. Ooh! You can’t forget the fact that you wanted to kiss me as well.” He argues, acting like a child debating who’s the better superhero, Superman or Batman, with a school friend. You don’t know how you’ve managed to last an entire year with this dramatic fool. 

“JinJin! Tell her how wrong she is!” Myungjun whines to his close friend and boyfriend of Eun Byeol. 

You shoot Jinwoo a look, questioning why he’s even there on your anniversary date. 

Jinwoo pauses, silently sipping his Coca-Cola as he still needs to drive home after he’s done hiding from his girlfriend, who he accidentally angered. A look of hesitation washes over his face as the poor fella absolutely does not want to get in the middle of your guys’ argument. After all, Myungjun is the reason why he’s able to safely hide from his furious significant other. But also, that stupid pretty boy is the cause of his and Eun Byeol’s argument in the first place. 

So…

“Well, first of all, you’re both misremembering your first date because it actually wasn’t a blind date. You two had met previously at mine and Eun Byeol’s housewarming party. Then, you two decided to start out as friends because,” Jinwoo points to you, “You're in a relationship with Seokjin. Myungjun was seeing some random chick that I’ve forgotten the name for her.” He stated, debunking the first part of your love story. Before continuing with his explanation, Jinwoo chugs the rest of his soda and holds up a finger, flagging down a waiter to order another glass of Coke. 

“Alright, now where was I?” He releases a tiny burp as he continues his journey of stating the facts of your relationship, making Myungjun protest and whine. 

Then, your dork of a boyfriend leans towards you, his lips hovering over your ear. 

“Why did I let him tag along with us again?” 

“Because you two are tighter than a clam’s ass. That’s how close you two are to one another. It’s quite freaky at times.” 

Myungjun, being his dramatic self, gawked, stumbling over his words, 

“W-what? Name one-time that JinJin was with us.” 

“Last night.”

Suddenly, Myungjun’s face becomes blank. Checkmate. 

“And another thing! I wasn’t even the one who convinced you to go out that evening! It was Eunwoo!” 

Knock is copyright 2021 by jinterlude, all rights reserved.

[heyitsyn]

Enough

a/n: your sensei has come bearing gifts!!! hope you like my gift and happy 100 follower milestone everyone!!!! thank you for the ultimate support and love you’ve given me despite being only in this writer community for only about a week!! i hope to share more milestones w yall and hopefully more stories!!! byeeee

oikawa tooru x reader

(this is the full and last part of the oikawa angst)

Strangers.

That’s all you were.

Years of memories that were created before you could even walk, gone and forgotten for a relationship that didn’t even last a year.

Your parents have stopped asking for you both to interact during dinner, eventually getting used to you both not showing up to joint family meals, and there were no longer interactions shared for the next 3 years.

Until that fateful phone call.

It was about 2 in the morning and you were woken up by the loud and strong vibration from your phone that laid on top of your pillow beside you. You groaned at being woken up at such an ungodly hour on a school day so you didn’t budge and went back to sleep. But it continued for how many times and you made an irritated noise before finally opening your eyes and snatching it up to shout at who was calling you so early and why they needed you so badly.

“Hajime, I swear-”

“y/n, thank God,” he breathed out. “I know, I know, Tooru, she answered and I’m talking to her right now. You’ll be okay, alright? Here, just squeeze my hand.”

There was a bad feeling in your gut and when you heard him talking to, apparently, Tooru, you were already putting on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt over your sleeping shirt before running downstairs to get your shoes and almost ripping the fridge door to get ice packs on both hands.

“Hajime, it’s his knee, right?” You asked urgently, rummaging through the closet to get your emergency bag.

You had a sigh of relief when you found the old thing and bolted out of the house.

“H-How-”

“Practice match with Karasuno. I saw it. So, what’s wrong?”

“The shitty bastard called me because he was hurt and he couldn’t move since he messed up his knee and ankle.”

“Seijoh gym, right?” 

Then there was a cry in the background.

“Yes. Now, please hurry, y/n. I know, Bakakawa! I’m telling her to hurry-!”

But you ended the call, focusing on biking faster, as fast as you could, because the longer he was hurt without medical attention, the riskier and bigger consequences were going to happen. His injuries were no surprise to you but hearing that pained shout from the other line got you to jump into action, regardless your feelings or your past.

Your bike was carelessly dumped to the side as you ran all the way to where you could hope was the gym building and you sighed in relief when you saw the bright light and the buff body of Iwaizumi Hajime pacing at the front.

“Haji!” You shouted and his eyebrows reduced from its intense furrowing before pointing behind him.

“I was already on my way to check on him when he called about being hurt but I had no ice or meds. You were my only option.”

There laid, Oikawa Tooru, clutching his ankle and knee with tears streaming down his face and his eyes tightly shut to block out anything from his sight.

Your knees slid across the floor as you quickly went to his side before you gently pried his hands from clutching his right knee and his ankle.

“Tooru,” you softly called out. His eyes flew open at your voice and his face crumpled up as a sob ripped through his throat and echoed through the gym. “It’s okay. I’m here now, it’s okay.”

You kept mumbling those words as you took off your sweatshirt and bundled it up so he could rest his knee on it. Iwa offered his jacket to elevate his ankle and you were hurriedly placing ice packs on his injured parts to prevent the bleeding in his tissues while taking out elastic tape so you could compress his ankle and knee.

“Tooru, listen to me, I know it hurts right now and I know you’re in so much pain but I need you to be strong okay? I know you hate taking pills but you need to be brave and take these so that the pain will be gone. They’re tiny little things so it won’t be hard but I’ll hold you as you take them, alright?”

Oikawa could barely register what you were saying as he was just focusing on your voice and the way your lips move.

God, has it been so long since you’ve last spoken a word to him that he completely forgot how your lips looked like as you pronounced each sound?

Only when you sat behind him and pulled him to your chest did he figure out what was happening. Iwaizumi forcefully shoved a bottle of water and gave him two white pain medicine pills.

He looked back at you to protest but once he saw your gentle smile did he breathe harshly before taking both pills at the same time and chugging down the water. You were about to scold him with the harm of taking more than one pill but quieted down when he made a hissing sound after he finished drinking.

“Breathe in and out,” you soothed.

He coughed and grimaced when it throbbed again. “But it hurts!”

Your brain began to race a thousand miles an hour to try and figure out a way for him to calm down but you were so worried that you couldn’t come up with anything. Then it struck you.

You haven’t done this in years due to the lack of interaction but this has worked every time he had a panic attack. By the looks of this, he was on his way to another one.

“Tooru, give me your hand, okay?” You laid out yours, only for him to shakily put his hand on top of it. 

You turned it over so his palm was up and your other arm wrapped around him so you could reach his hand. Then you began tracing.

“Star!”

“Cloud!”

“Moon!”

He shouted every answer as you drew shapes into his tan skin and you proceeded into using simple addition problems to get his mind off of the pain and into something more practical like numbers.

“4!”

“18!”

“26!”

Iwaizumi watched in amazement as you were able to keep Tooru from jumping over the edge by simply writing characters on his palm and his olive eyes only widened as his best friend reduced the volume of his voice into whispers.

“Monkey.”

“Turtle.”

“Bread.”

“Milk.”

“Tree.”

Then he fell asleep.

The poor thing must’ve exhausted himself from training and the pain and crying.

His slump form remained against you and you tightened your hold around him, your own tears finally falling.

“I was so afraid this would happen,” you whispered out, noticing Iwa’s worried stare at you. “When he started this bullshit in middle school, all this obsessive behavior for defeating that dastardly Ushijima, I was so scared he would break himself. And he did.”

You choked out a sob.

“Haji, he hit me, did you know that?” You whimpered, not wanting to see his reaction with the thought of his best friend hitting the girl he has been crying and whining about for years. “Actually, he was about to hit Tobio but I pushed him away and took it instead because I was responsible for him as his manager.”

The words continued to spill out and you didn’t give a damn that you were spilling this out on your ex-boyfriend/best friend’s best friend.

“He felt so inferior to everyone, against Tobio for his genius ability, against Ushijima for being able to beat him for years, everyone. And there was nothing I could to prevent him from feeling so.” Iwa has now sat on the floor, noticing the melting ice pack which was making water roll down the bag. 

“Instead, I was selfish and complained about not spending time with him because he was so obsessed with volleyball. For winning. But I really think I let go because I didn’t want to see him in any more pain. I didn’t want to see him torture himself anymore.”

Your fingers swept through Tooru’s damp forehead to push back the hair that stuck on the skin from his sweat.

“Then when he told me that I was actually a distraction and that he didn’t need me anymore, I saw it as the perfect opportunity. So I took it. And dammit, I feel so horrible. I will forever regret that I couldn’t help him and cut off all contact just because I was scared of what would happen next. Don’t you see, Iwa? I did this to him. This is my fault. All because I wasn’t there to stop him.”

Your tired, sad eyes finally met Hajime’s surprised olive ones.

“I wanted to talk, to rekindle at least friendship. But I knew that once I do, I’ll fall in love all over again and I’d be forced to watch him break and kill himself just for a damn trip to Tokyo. To hell with that. So I stayed away. I called him selfish but you see, I was the selfish one. It just sucks that I was able to realize it once it was too late.”

“Patellar Tendonitis.”

A normal person would’ve been confused with those words if it was directed at them but you knew what they meant, knowing they were directed towards the boy in your arms.

“Messed it up during training camp over the summer. Then his ankle got sprained. Shit went down from there.”

Your entire body trembled at the pain and suffering this boy went through and your tears flowed faster as he was so desperate for everyone’s approval that he covered it up with a smile and continued practicing.

Oh what a peculiar boy Tooru is.

“I shouldn’t have come-”

“No, you needed to.” Iwa cut you off. “For three years, he’s done nothing but mope around and cry for a girl he broke up with in middle school. During an age where you don’t even know what the hell love is, he sure got a pretty solid definition of that. And that definition, is you.”

“Iwa, you’re making me cry more!” You whined and brokenly laughed.

“It’s true,” he reasoned while leaning on his hands behind him. “This might sound creepy but he checks whenever your bedroom light is off at a certain time so he was sure you’d be able to sleep enough. If not, he secretly complains to your mother and she tells you to stop studying, right?”

You mutedly nodded, shocked at what you were hearing.

Was all that really true?

Has he been doing this since first year and throughout now?

“And this makes me feel more like shit.” Your voice cracked. “I want to just graduate and forget about this idiot and live my life. But I just can’t! Not when he’s doing this to himself.”

Iwa sighed, annoyed at his best friends’ stupid dilemma. “You know what, this thing Shittykawa is doing to himself, it’s always going to be like this. I’m sorry, y/n, but this is going to be our reality for the next few years. He’s already got his sights on playing professionally and that means more training for him to feel like he’s on the same level as those foreign players. But you need to accept him for that.” He chuckled and ran his hands through his spiky hair. “It took me a long time to accept it but he’s always going to be this shitty person who will continue to break himself just to earn a single point in a match. But to him, it’s worth it, right? As much as he pisses me the hell off, he’s still my friend and I’d just have to continuously check in on him and make sure he’s still able to walk.”

Wow, that was the last thing you would happen. Iwaizumi Hajime talking about Oikawa Tooru, the boy he always punched and threw around, with such pride in his voice.

“Just remember that, kay?”

It was a silent walk back home as you carried the boys’ and your bags while Iwa had the unconscious Oikawa on his back. Upon reaching his front door, you realized it was locked and you knew if his mother found you at the dead of morning, she’d give him an earful and that was the last thing you needed. So you offered your place, instead, taking his sleeping body straight to your room.

“Go home, Haji. He’s not going to school tomorrow so you can come over and keep him company so you don’t miss him too much,” you teased.

He grunted quietly before ruffling your head. “Like hell I would. But remember what I said, y/n. Don’t expect a change. Just accept what you have right now.”

When he finally left, you sat on the floor beside your bed, holding the hand of the currently wincing Tooru. He was having a nightmare and if you could guess, it was probably him being beaten by Shiratorizawa in a game.

“Look at me, years later from ignoring you, letting you sleep on my bed and trying to accept you. I’m truly pathetic, right, Tooru?” You whispered, leaning against his hand which was encased on your own. “During the practice match, you said you were being unfair, right? Well, I’m the one not being fair. After causing you years of confusion and pain, a mere few hours has caused me to accept you all over again.”

“Why?” His groggy voice startled you and made your grip loosen but he snatched it back up, squeezing it. “Why now?”

Your face twisted as new tears would emerge and you gave him a sad smile, “Because I just realized something. I realized that you, Oikawa Tooru, deserve to be loved. Just as you are.”

A sleepy smile appeared on his beautifully child-like face, “I’m glad.”

When you fell for him, you expected him to catch you or at least help you up. But no hand reached out for you. Then you realized that Tooru fell and landed the exact same time as you did so there was no way he would’ve been able to catch you or help you.

“Breathing the same air, in the same space, is enough to fall in love. I realized that it’s enough, actually more than enough.”

Despite just waking up, he was now able to fully process what you said and with the pain of his injuries and the lack of sleep, he was overly emotional and cursed as he started sobbing and crying.

You were finally going to take him back. You were finally going to be his again.

Your eyes softened at this and you delicately held his face in your hands, cupping it so he could look at you and boy, did his heart do a weird jump kick.

Your eyes were so warm, so full of love, that he felt naked under your gaze.

No cover, no mask, just love.

And it is enough.

“I will always regret those three years, Oikawa Tooru. But if you’d let me, I’ll willingly and diligently spend the rest of my lifetime making it up to you and helping you stand whenever you fall.”

He playfully glared at you then opened his arms for a hug, which you immediately accepted.

“You already gave your entire life to me once you promised to fall in love with me forever, baka.” You cringed at the nudge of his finger on your forehead but you smiled at him.

“I was, like, 10, Tooru.”

“But right at this exact spot, I started to fall for you and I knew there would be no one else that I’d love.”

“I’m still angry that you wanted to hit Tobio but I will have to punish you once you do something like that again, right?” 

“Hah?! Stop talking about Tobio, y/n-chan!”

“He was a literal baby, Tooru. Actually, if you try and hit any of your underclassmen, I’ll hit you. And there would be no milk bread for a month.”

“HAH?! MILK BREAD?! NO FAIR, Y/N-CHAN!”

“hm? But it’s totally fair, though?”

…

In the end the author completely lied regarding a sentence from earlier.

Actually a few sentences, but that’s besides the point.

There was no ending, no final farewells, just happy beginnings and hopes for the future with a few bags of milk bread.

Because years later, those same exact words were written on a different photograph. However, there wasn’t that much of a difference because it still held a smiling and happy family. But this time, it was you and Tooru, just with an additional baby boy and baby girl.

a/n: i teased you guys too much and im so sorry!!!! but i couldnt resist not giving them a happy ending and i was getting a lot of asks for at least a part 2 so i do what the people wants!!!! now i think i might take a day or two for a break but idk i might end up posting something tomorrow probably

[malfoysmaybank]

drivers license - stanley barber

a/n: i was having some writers block on my requests and i’ve been sobbing to this song on repeat, so here’s a fic for my bebs stanley barber. i also changed one lyric from “blonde girl” to “one girl” because it fit the plot more!

warnings: angst, you might cry (i did while writing this lols), parent absence, fluff at the end because i couldn’t break my heart with this one, but some straight angst is coming soon!!!!

word count: 1.7k+

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You had been best friends with Stanley Barber since you were young, maybe 10. You had stood up for him when some kids were pushing him around because of his outfit. 

“Hey! Get off of him!” You said, yelling at the trio of 5th grade boys pushing another boy to the ground. “Or what, Y/N? You’ll tattle? We aren’t scared of a girl.” The leader of the pack said. You clenched your jaw and punched him straight in the nose. You weren’t going to let a man talk to you like that. The leader started crying and ran off, his sidekicks following after him. You walked over to the boy on the ground and helped him up. “T-Thanks for that.” He said as he got back up. “No problem. I’m Y/N, by the way. Y/N Y/L/N.” You extended your hand for a handshake. He took it. “Stanley. Stanley Barber.”

You’ve been close ever since. You ate lunch with him that day and  bonded over silly things like tv shows and favorite colors. In middle school, he helped you develop your style and you bonded over new things like favorite bands and books. You had his back and he had yours. He truly was your best friend.

However, you started seeing Stanley in a new light in eighth grade. He had gotten taller, his face a little more structured. He also learned how to play guitar that year. He wrote a song about you, of all things. Nobody had ever done something like that for you before. You started noticing the little things he did for you. He would randomly bring a bag of your favorite candy to lunch if he saw you were having a bad day. He taught you how to play piano because he thought it sounded nice with your voice. You fell in love with Stanley Barber. Fuck. Of course you’d NEVER tell him. You couldn’t fuck up the only good thing in your life right now. So that meant silently suffering whenever he had a crush on someone.

That’s the issue, you couldn’t be happy for him when he was with someone else. You spent countless days crying alone in your room after he’d go on for hours about his newest crush. This continued for a straight 3 years. His newest crush was Sydney Novak. You thought this one would blow over, just like his past few, but it didn’t. In fact, this one was the strongest crush he’s ever had. He’d been ditching you to hang out with her. He wasn’t even there to see you get your drivers license, something he’d been so encouraging about. He basically taught you how to drive because he knew how much it meant to you. He didn’t even know you had passed your test, never once asking. But in the sparse moments when he didn’t blow off plans, he’d constantly be talking about her. One of those sparse moments being tonight.

You were currently in his room/basement and he was going on one of his Sydney rants. “She’s so cool, Y/N. I mean, I’ve never met someone who I’ve clicked with more.” Um ouch, but whatever. “I don’t know, she’s just different. Like, in a good way though.” Three deep breaths, Y/N. 3… “We even hooked up the other night.” 2… “I think I’m in love with her.” 1. “Look Stanley, not to be rude, but do you EVER shut up about her?!” You spat. He looked over at you in shock. “I can’t do this tonight… I’m leaving.” You grab your ‘save the earth’ backpack and start jogging up the stairs to leave. 

He follows as you open the door to his garage. “Woah, woah, woah, Y/N. What’s up?” Stan calls from behind you. You grab your skateboard and lift up the garage door. It’s pouring outside, but you don’t care. You go to leave but feel a hand on your wrist stop you. “You’re not going out in weather like that, just come inside and we can talk.” He says gently, still slightly confused. “About what, Sydney again? Don’t you get it Stanley?!” You snap in his face. His eyebrows furrow and you let out a sarcastic laugh, tears building in your eyes. “Of course you don’t. You’ve been so wrapped up in Sydney that you forgot who I was! I’m so done, Stan. I can’t sit here and pretend that I don’t care anymore. Don’t bother hanging out with me anymore.” You snap and rip your wrist away from Stanley’s grip. 

You drop your board and get on, pushing as fast as you can. He calls after you but you block him out. When you’re a far distance away from him and his house, you just sit down on the side of the road and cry. Hurt that he’ll never be yours. Angry that he doesn’t care about you anymore. Frustrated because you tried to be the glue that held your friendship together, but even glue can’t fix the titanic.

You didn’t go to school for the next week. Your parents wouldn’t care, they weren’t even here. Still on some ‘business trip’ just like every week. Instead, you did something that calms you. Wrote music about how you were feeling. You played piano basically all week. Singing anything and everything you were feeling. It made you feel worse sometimes, but in the end it felt worth it.

Stan pulled into your driveway in his dad’s piece of shit car. He needed to work this out with you, he hadn’t seen you all week and he was worried. He missed his best friend. As he quietly closed the car door, he heard the piano playing. He didn’t recognize the song, he was curious. He didn’t even bother knocking, knowing you would slam the door in his face if you knew it was him. He quietly shut the front door and he heard your voice. It got louder as he walked closer to your bedroom door. He’d always loved your voice, it put him to sleep some nights. He could see you slightly, the door left ajar. He listened in.

“I got my drivers license last week,

Just like we always talked about.

'Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house.

But today I drove through the suburbs,

Crying 'cause you weren't around”

You sang flawlessly, not a single note out of tune. There was so much emotion behind your voice. So much hurt, anger, frustration. He continued listening, trying to find out who caused you so much hurt. He’d bash their face in, that’s for sure.

“And you're probably with that one girl

Who always made me doubt.

She's so much older than me,

She's everything I'm insecure about”

With that first line, it hit him. He’d caused this hurt. The anger, the frustration, that was him. He was so angry with himself that he almost missed the next line… almost.

“Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs,

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?”

You… you loved him? He’d spent so much time on Sydney that he hadn’t even realized what was in front of him all these years. Except he had.

“And I know we weren't perfect, but I've never felt this way for no one.

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone.”

God damn it! He could’ve confessed sooner, instead of ignoring his feelings. And for what? A mindless hookup with Sydney?! He could’ve had you this whole time, but he fucked up.

“....Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me.”

You said that line softly. No anger, or frustration, or even confusion behind that line. Just hurt. He saw a single tear fall down your cheek as you stopped singing. There was more to that song, you just couldn’t continue. He’d be sure to ask you to sing the rest of it later, but right now he needed to fix this. You stood up from the piano bench and he burst through the door. “Stanley, what are you doi-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he wrapped his arms around you and brought your head to his chest. “I meant every word of that damn song. Every word. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” Tears flowed down your face as you tightly hugged him back and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “I love you. And I’ll be better for you. I should’ve treated you with the respect and love you deserve. I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Please give me a second chance, please.” He cried. “I love you too, Stan.” You started. “But I don’t know.” He squeezed you tighter (but still as gentle as possible, he didn’t want to hurt you), with more tears flowing out of his eyes. “Please, Y/N. I’ll be better. If I give you anything less than the love and attention you deserve, you have my full permission to punch me square in the face and kick me to the curb.” You both giggled, still crying. 

He let go of you to hold your face in his hands. “Please?” He begged. “...Okay, fine. But we need to go over how you’re going to do better in the future and what we can do to help each other communicate better and stuff.” You said. He picked you up and spun you around, making you squeal. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Y/N!! I promise I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” You laughed as he set you down and leant down to whisper in your ear. “Want to hear a secret?” He said, sending shivers down your spine. “I never liked Sydney.” He laughed as you hit his chest. “You dick!” You exclaimed, shocked. He swiftly pulled you in by the waist, your faces inches apart as your hands rested on his chest. “You love me, though.” He whispered. “That I do.” You said and finally closed the gap. Damn, you could kiss this boy forever. Alas, the moment is cut short because unfortunately, humans need oxygen to survive. “I love you too.” He says and smiles, giving you a peck on the forehead. “Could you sing the rest of that song for me? I love your voice but that songwriting was INCREDIBLE.” He says and you nod.

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permanent taglist: 

@loonylunaandthenargles​

[icyllic]

Path of Destruction | JEON JUNGKOOK

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader

GENRE: Drama, Angst (maybe???), Thriller

WARNINGS: Stalking, obsession, swearing, a little dirty talk & thoughts

WORD COUNT: 2635

*note: ↑ i came across this video and saw this comment by boogieedits (credits to parkchimn & boogieedits for the inspiration! 😍) and felt inspired by this wonderful plot! i’m inspired by the amazing video edit too! <3 i decided to give it a try and welp- truthfully i’m having writer’s block with my Full of Stars series that i might wanna take a break from it for a while until i figured what the next episode’s plot would be. for now, let’s enjoy this oneshot! 🥰 (extra note: several changes were made in this story and yes, the nickname might be a little cringy but i couldn’t think of a better pet name, so....bear with it, i guess 😅😂 also, Y/N’s angered replies are intended to have typos. i purposely did the typos in her texts bcs she was angry af :3)

The night was feeling empty. The streets were quiet and you had no idea where you were heading. You couldn’t believe that you actually managed to get out from your best friend, Suzie’s party that was filled with a lot of her drunken friends and thank God you successfully escaped, even though right now you were feeling a little tipsy due to the amount of alcohol you consumed earlier.

“Fucking Suzie,” you mumbled as you walked home. “telling me it was just a small party and she lied! Who would lie to their own friends?!” You have the habit of talking to yourself if you feel alone and that was what you were feeling right now, so alone in the streets and you were clueless. You felt the need to cry but what’s the whole point? No one was here to save you even if you did.

You were sure you weren’t dreaming or hallucinating at all but you heard footsteps were following you. As you turned around, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, seeing as there was no one. When you turned around to walk again, the footsteps were heard. “HEY!” you yelled as you aggressively turned around. “don’t you dare follow me or I wouldn’t hesitate to call the cops!” You rolled your eyes in annoyance, mumbling to yourself again to make the uneasy feeling go away.

As you finally arrived home, you were struggling to grab the keys to unlock the door. At this very moment, the keys were tricking you; purposely tangling themselves with your pocket. “Are you kidding me?! I wanna get inside, you stupid keys!” You widened your eyes when you saw your older sister opening the door for you. How was she still awake at 2 a.m.?

“You look like a horrible mess.” Michelle commented, and you scoffed while pushing her away from the door as you went inside. 

“Why are you still even awake anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” You were shaking your head while shutting your eyes to avoid that tipsy feeling.

“How can I sleep when I know my little sister wasn’t home yet? I was worried sick, you moronic bitch.” She shook her head, feeling disappointed with how you acted right now. 

You were feeling sleepy and tired, so you decided to ignore her and went upstairs. Before you went to your room, you heard your sister yelling, “Yeah, go ahead and ignore me just like you always do to avoid conversations with me! I’ve had enough of babysitting you, Y/N! You’re so horrible!” You slammed the door before hearing any more of her complains. 

Despite feeling so tired, you couldn’t sleep at all. You took the time to stare up at the ceiling instead, filling your head with numerous thoughts. But the thoughts stopped as you heard a Ding! on your phone. You read the texts and to your surprise, it was from an unknown number. 

unknown [now]: sweet dreams, twinkle toes

unknown [now]: it took me nearly four years to pluck up the courage to text you

unknown [now]: and i can’t lie, i’m having butterflies 

unknown [now]: you don’t know how many times i’ve dreamed of touching you

unknown [now]: by the way, go take a shower before you sleep 🌹

“What the hell?” You got up quick and scanned the whole area in your room, worrying that person who texted you might be in there. Hiding under your bed, maybe? You didn’t know whether to text this person back or not, or to block him but if you block him now, how would you know where he got your number from? ... or how would you know whether this person was a male or a female? So you decided to just leave it be for a while and reply this unknown person’s texts tomorrow. After this dreamland taking over your world, you were hoping that these texts were just all hallucinations due to tiredness. 

••••••

....except that they were not hallucinations at all. You started to feel panic when you saw the messages were still there in your message box. Now it was your turn to build the courage to reply this person back. 

you [now]: Who are you and how did you get my number?

Anxiety started to form inside you. You were supposed to run some errands today but with the situation you were facing right now, you were having doubts whether it was safe to go out there or not.

Your daydream of thoughts stopped when Michelle walked in to your room. “Y/N?” You raised your head up to look at her. “you feeling better now?”

You nodded, feeling hesitated as you knew that answer wasn’t true at all. You weren’t feeling any better, even after last night for being a little drunk but with this stalker texting you??? A whole new level of creepy started to scare you. You kept wondering how on Earth this person got your number. 

“I baked you some cookies, just in case you were hungry and um,” she paused for a while. “I’m sorry for yelling at you last night. I didn’t mean to.”

These words shocked you. Her apology made you give her a look of astonishment. You and Michelle have been through it all; dramas over boys, arguing over little things and never once in your life you ever heard her saying sorry to you. This was so new, she finally apologized to you for the first time in her 25 years of living. 

“I’m sorry for being an irresponsible bitch, Michelle. I didn’t mean it too.” She shook her head while smiling, walking towards you and gave you a hug to comfort you. Ding! And this person appeared again, stopping you from hugging your sister. 

“Whoa, who’s texting you at an exact 8 a.m.?” Michelle teased while wiggling her eyebrows. You chuckled at her silly attitude, although this wasn’t supposed to be a happy situation at all. You were already feeling terrified as curiosity started filling itself in you, wondering what that person’s text might be.

“Probably just Suzie wanting to apologize too for being a lying turd.” You shrugged it off, chuckling alongside your sister. Michelle then walked out and you quickly locked the door, opening the stalker’s message. 

unknown [3m ago]: you’ll know soon enough, twinkle toes 🥰

Twinkle toes??? Who the fuck does this person think he or she is? Calling me twinkle-fucking-toes? Your thoughts started to annoy you right now. You felt the need to slam something out of frustration, but you weren’t feeling like it anymore. You were still feeling scared because of this whole situation. 

••••••

“Class dismissed!” Mr. Peterson announced when the bell rang. The whole Math class felt like a living nightmare. You were feeling sleepy the whole time but your attention was drifted off somewhere else. 

When you walked outside the classroom to pack your stuff in your locker, you were stopped by Adrian. Adrian, the guy you knew had a crush on you since sophomore year. He was indeed cute; shaggy hair that really matched with his bright, green eyes and had a very nice personality that could make every girl fall in love with him. Unfortunately for Adrian, you weren’t one of those girls. 

You’ve been taking the time to appreciate and love yourself for several years now. Your last relationship ended because that asshole cheated on and lied to you a lot of times, leading you to have trust issues and hence the reason why you didn’t wanna give Adrian a chance too. But Adrian, being a nice guy he was, stated that he’d wait for you no matter how long it might take. 

“I brought your favorite snacks, Y/N. I hope we can eat lunch together today.” Adrian showed you your favorite snacks that were hidden in his brown bag. You softly smiled at how thoughtful Adrian really was. 

“Thanks, Adrian. But um, I don’t think I wanna eat lunch today. I might just head home this afternoon. I’m not up for afternoon classes.” You felt bad for lying to him. Truthfully, you just wanted to investigate more about this stalker of yours.

His face was sad, but he seemed to understand. “Oh, okay.. are you okay, Y/N? You don’t look okay.” His voice was recognized with genuine concern.

“I’m having headache, that’s all. I need rest.” You scratched the back of your neck, feeling this conversation becoming awkward already. You were uncomfortable, your negative thoughts made you feel like this was an uncomfortable conversation to participate in. 

Adrian nodded as he understood why, so he patted your back gently. You didn’t see it wrong, though. He wanted to kiss your forehead, but hesitant to do so since he knew that might be wrong. It was because he knew you didn’t feel the same for him. 

••••••

{8.47 p.m. with Adrian walking in the streets alone}

Adrian was listening to music on his phone as he was on his way home from his friend’s house. But eventually stopped when he felt a sudden presence behind him. He turned around and it wasn’t there anymore. He shrugged it off, thinking it might have only been his imagination. 

When he was singing along with the song he was listening to, the footsteps were closer and closer and suddenly, two strong hands grabbed Adrian’s hair and pulling him to the ground, kicking him hard and punching him numerous times. 

This unknown person who punched Adrian was wearing a black mask, a black hoodie and ripped jeans that matched with a pair of motorcycle boots. Despite wearing a mask, his eyes sent deep, horrendous message. “If you ever touch Y/N again, I’ll make sure to have all of your bones broken so you can’t do anything in life anymore,” he aggressively grabbed Adrian’s collar this time. “Y/N is mine and mine alone. Don’t you fucking dare come near her.” He released it roughly, spitting on the spot of the ground next to Adrian and leaving him alone as he walked away. It was an unfortunate night for Adrian, no one was there to rescue him and call for help.

••••••

{10.11 p.m. in your room}

Ding! You groaned, knowing whose message this was from. You rolled your eyes as you read the person’s texts. 

unknown [now]: i’m feeling so happy right now

unknown [now]: you have no idea how happy i really am 🥰

You shook your head and scoffed whilst reading them. Who even decided to care whether this unknown person was happy or not? Definitely not you.

you [now]: Lmao do I even care if you’re happy or not though? All I know is that you’re crazy

Ding!

unknown [now]: i am crazy indeed

unknown [now]: crazy about you

You groaned in annoyance at this unknown person’s response, not wanting to reply anymore. But then as you were about to place your phone on your side table, there was another notification from that person.

unknown [now]: i’m happy because soon enough, i’ll have you in my arms. no one’s gonna rescue you from me 

“What the absolute fuck?” you got up and this time feeling so angry to the point you were having typos as you typed your words in all capital letters.

you [now]: GO FUCK YOURSELF WHOSVER YOU ARE, QUIT BUGFING

ME!! 

you [now]: I’M GONNA BLOCK YOU NOW, YOU CNT DO THIS TO ME

Heaving a sigh, you grabbed a pillow and stuffed it on your face, screaming as loud as you intended. 

Ding!

unknown [now]: you can try blocking me

unknown [now]: but i have a lot more phones that i’ve stolen and your number is saved in every phone i keep 

unknown [now]: like i said, twinkle toes. no one’s gonna rescue you and take you away from me 😉

This time as your courage was already built, you dialed this person’s number but they quickly rejected your call. You tried again and you got the same result; your call was rejected.

you [now]: What’s the matter, huh? No balls to answer my call???

unknown [now]: i’m not going to make you hear my voice yet, princess. where’s the fun in that? 

unknown [now]: i’m saving it for our date soon

you [now]: Screw you, you fucking creep

unknown [now]: damn, say that again 

you [now]: FUCKING SCREW YOU!

unknown [now]: i’d love to be screwed by the one and only Y/N 😍

You were scared again. Not only this person secretly got your number, but he knew your name too! This was another whole new level of creepy! 

You shut your phone off, not wanting to take this conversation further with that creeper. You closed your eyes tightly to move yourself in your dreamland, and thankfully, it was successful.

••••••

{Meanwhile at someone’s place}

He watched you through the one of the screens in his room. You had no idea about this at all, but this stalker had already placed a few cameras in your house. One specific camera he always watched was outside the window of your room so he could have a clearer and nicer view of your sleeping face.

“My God, she’s so beautiful,” he said as he attentively watched you sleeping. He was playing with his fingers as his eagerness started to bloom. He was starting to feel desperate now, wanting to touch you, wanting to hold you in his arms, wanting to kiss you until you’re unable to breathe.

“don’t worry, my Y/N. You’ll be in the arms of Jeon Jungkook’s soon.” Jungkook started to smirk with the dirty thoughts of you forming in his head. He really, really, really couldn’t wait to smother you with his kisses. ....once he catches you.

••••••

The next day at school felt so weird as you found Adrian absent. Adrian wasn’t the type of a person who’d miss a day at school, but today he decided to do that. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you looked around for him. Weird. Where is he? you thought.

Ding! “Gosh, what the fuck does he want now?!” You opened to see who the notification was from, but thankfully it was from Suzie.

suzie patootie [now]: bubs, wanna hangout tonight? mum’s having a date with her 5th boyf. house is free for us girls

you [now]: Girls night, eh? I’m on

This girls’ night was all you needed to avoid feeling scared as you were right now. Sure, you were feeling brave already to confront that person through messages but you were still scared too. What if that person was watching your every move right now and you weren’t aware of it?

••••••

You decided to head to grocery store to buy some foodies and drinks for your girls’ night. You didn’t bother to head home first to take a shower since you knew that this girls’ night would be a sleepless night for you, anyway. 

As you walked out from the grocery store to head your way to Suzie’s home, the footsteps were heard again. You stopped your tracks. Oh no. What if this is that person? You were standing still and the footsteps stopped too. You didn’t care and you walked forward quickly and the footsteps got faster following you from behind. 

You started running and the follower chased after you so quick until he finally caught you, locking you in his strong arms. 

“Don’t run away from me, Y/N,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your earlobe and you started to cry. “didn’t I say I’d have you in my arms soon?” 

Before you could scream, he covered your mouth quickly and dragged you backwards with him to an unknown place while holding you tightly. 

“No one’s gonna save you. You’re all mine now, twinkle toes.”