#idk if you’re the same anon for all of these fall guy asks but just know that i love you dearly thank you for asking me for hcs wnamsmmd

[professionallydeadinside]

What would tom do if someone was cutting colt down saying things like “your just a stunt double “ etc

OOOOOO DEFINITELY KILL THEM ON SOCIAL MEDIA WKAKSMMDMD Tom would hire someone to dig up some dirty secrets and then he would post them on all of his socials. Everyone else thinks that Tom is just being a good guy and warning people but Colt knows that he’s just being massively petty wksksmdm (I feel like Colt is used to some ridicule and can handle it but Tom refuses to let people get away with it because he’s the only one thats allowed to make fun of Colt wkakskkdm)

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. ���Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.  

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first. 

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind. 

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first. 

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you. 

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say. 

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways. 

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume. 

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be. 

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say. 

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother says. 

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter. 

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky. 

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding. 

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by. 

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say. 

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says. 

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.” 

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently. 

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up. 

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality. 

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you. 

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized. 

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

[struwberrii]

I've seen your hq! date night ideas and wonder if I can ask for this; what about their indoor date ideas for maybe when they're too tired from games/works or maybe when they have to raincheck bc of storms, etc.? Any characters of your choices but I'd love kuroo, oikawa, and maybe hinata, please?

Thank you!

haikyuu boys indoor date night headcanons ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

thank you for the request anon!!

i love this as a person who prefers to stay in too (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

characters: hinata, kageyama, bokuto, akaashi, kenma, kuroo, iwaizumi, oikawa

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

hinata

movie night date!!

would probably want to just hang out on the couch and eat snacks

probably would want to match an old dad humor comedy, like an adam sandler movie

would also door dash you guys fast food

you guys commentary on the movie make it 10% funnier

probably is so tired he falls asleep half way through the movie

i feel like he knows all the best deserts and you guys would be feasting

LOTS of cuddling the entire time

kageyama

board games!!

i feel like he would NOT play about spoons

also i feel like he’d we oddly good at monopoly

you guys make food, put music on and just play games together

he probably lets you win sometimes bc he thinks it’s cute when you get excited

kisses you on the head as a reward for winning (if you do win)

he gets really into the games though, but your happiness is his priority

bokuto

karaoke date!!

i feel like he’d prefer going out for a date but if you were tired he’d stay in with you

he is SO LOUD

he hits those notes though

he locks in extra hard when a bruno mars song comes on the tv

you guys eat chips and drink soda all night

constantly motivating you to do a duet with him

would probably sing so hard he’d get tired and fall asleep in your living room (·•᷄∩•᷅ )

akaashi

cooking lessons online!!

probably brings you flowers before

would probably look up a video and try to replicate the recipe with you

you guys make dinner and dessert :3

super cute, like he feeds you while you’re cooking and it’s so romantic the whole time

you guys listen to like jazz music

the food actually ends up really good

kenma

video game date!! (boring ik im sorry)

he teaches you how to play his fav games

he’s vv patient too, he tries his best to teach you though even if you kinda suck lol

probably orders you guys fast food too

let’s you win when you guys play fighting games occasionally and if he does beat you he makes sure it’s a very close game

let’s you feed him (so cute)

you guys end up falling asleep to a movie together at the end of the night

kuroo

lego building date!!

or like any model of something lol

would probably get something super nerdy like a star wars ship

makes you guys drinks while you build them

i feel like he wears glasses for some reason like does he? idk am i crazy? i feel like hed be wearing glasses during this

brags if he finishes his section before you even though he gave you a way harder part to build than his lol

helps you after though

every little thing is distracting you guys but you end up finishing by the end of the night and keeping it in your bedroom

iwaizumi

yoga date!!

he would probably talk you into doing it and put a video on the tv for you guys

i feel like even indoors he would still try to stay active and fit

helps you stretch or spots you

the date probably turns into him giving you a massage (if u guys r anything like that youll NEED that massage after a 15 min yoga video)

makes you guys smoothies to drink as a treat for "finishing" even though you never finished the full video

oikawa

reading together!!

i feel like with all the stuff oikawa has going on, a chill quiet night is just what he needs at the end of the day to clear his mind

finds a book you both like and buys 2 copies so you guys can read at the same time

you guys sit cuddled on the couch reading your books under the dim lamp lighting

probably lights candles too

has audible reactions to anything crazy that happens in the book, like he'll gasp or go like "no way" out loud and then ask if you got to that part yet

you guys have a set chapter you stop at

serious discussion about the book afterwards (except its not actually that serious (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

you end up falling asleep in his arms on the couch hehehe

[julysn]

Hii! Sorry, I'm a little embarrassed to ask you this >-<, but could you do an Andy Graves x Reader fanfic?I'm so obsessed with the post what it would be like to date Andrew, oh if I could ask for one more thing could it be on the decay route or without Ashley?

𝓝otes ⋆ i think you’re the same anon from the andy graves post so HI AGAIN!! also two writing posts in a day who dis

also. also. no ashley as always. my ass is too tired to string this into decay route so i was like “… just no ashley is fine” IM SORRY okay you said “or without ashley” so i went w the latter

anyways HERE IT IS! i didn’t know what to do for this so it’s kinda short and sucks ass. ended up doing what i do best—smut so um hope u like this 😭 sorry for tangent yk how i am i guess..

𝓘ncludes cursing, oral sex, there isn’t much dialogue just head. blowjobs. did i mention sex? slightly ooc maybe idk i wasn’t thinking when i wrote this

𝓢ynopsis ⋆ basically you suck cock until he cums. porn no plot

“That’s it, baby.” Andrew coos, his hand getting tangled in your hair as he watches your head bop up and down, his cock in your mouth. He can’t help but love the sensation of your saliva coating his shaft, watching you envelop his member into your mouth like it was the last thing you’d ever dox

You look up into his eyes, gazing into his lust-filled orbs, watching as ecstasy clouded his vision from each and every time your tongue brushed against his sensitive foreskin. Andrew was just so pretty like this, one hand across his mouth and the other hand in your hair as his cheeks flushed red.

“Mmm, Y/N..” A soft gasp escapes his lips, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers wrap around the strands of your hair and begin to tug, tugging you up and down his cock, forcing your pace to accelerate. “I’m close, babygirl..”

Suddenly, Andrew falls off of the edge of heaven, ejaculating into your mouth as his cum drips down into your throat. He lets out a loud, deep groan, his hands tightening in your hair as your eyes widened and you swallowed down all of the semen.

𝓝otes ⋆ sorry guys if i got the male anatomy stuff wrong AND YES ik this was short 😭😭 if anything’s inaccurate i’ve never had sex saur…

[7ndipity]

Accidental Announcement

Taehyung x Idol Reader

Summary: You and Tae’s relationship is revealed to his members in an unplanned, slightly awkward way.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: suggestive, like one swear, Tae refers to reader as his girlfriend,

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anons who sent both of these requests! I decided to combine them into the same piece, I hope that’s okay. Idk why, but it’s funny to me that I went from not really knowing much about Idol AUs, to having several ongoing series’ of them on this blog!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The backstage area of the music show was always so crowded and noisy that it made it easy for Tae to slip up beside you without anyone really paying attention, catching your hand in his before leaning in closer than nessary to mumble lowly in your ear.

“I’ve got a room to myself tonight, do you want to come over?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” You asked, casting a sidelong glance at him, a smirk playing at the corners of your mouth.

“Whatever you want.” He replied, slipping a keycard into your hand smoothly before going back to find his members.

You were a bit surprised by his brazeness of the action, the past few weeks apart while traveling with your respective groups having apparently made him a little more needy than usual, though you couldn’t say you minded.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Tae to slip off to each others rooms when you found out you were staying at the same hotel, but it was usually brief since there was the constant risk of one of the members walking in on you, due to having to share rooms all the time. But having a solo room meant there was no such threat for once.

You slipped down to his room after he texted that the coast was clear, spending a relatively quiet evening together before getting ready for bed, borrowing one of his t-shirts to sleep in, having conveniently ‘forgotten’ to bring your own pj’s with you.

As you wandered back out of the bathroom, you noticed Tae very engrosed in whatever it was that he was watching on his phone.

Out of curiosity, you snuck up behind him and peeked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse at his phone, surprised to see yourself, winking at the camera as you danced earlier that night during the music show.

“Are you watching fan edits of me?!” You squealed, making him jump and drop his phone, which you were quick to snatch up to get a better look.

“Ya! That was just in my recomendations! Give it back!” He jumped to his feet, chasing you round the bed, but you were too quick, darting across the mattress to save yourself from a full body tackle. You tried to make a dash for the bathroom, but were to slow, as he managed to grab hold of your arm and spin you so you were pinned between him and the front door.

“Give me that!” He giggled breathlessly as he wrangled his phone out of your grip.

“I can’t believe it, you’re such a fanboy!” You laughed, equally out breath, choosing to wrap your arms around his neck both for support and to pull him down to your eye level.

“Only because you’re so cute.” He cooed, catching your lips in a teasing kiss, trailing his hands up your sides slowly and making you squirm against him, momentarily lost in the feel of each other that you didn’t hear the sound of his door knob turning.

“Taehyung, do you know where- Yi-ash!” Before either of you could react, the door had opened, resulting in you and Tae falling out into the hallway, landing squarely at Jin’s feet in pile of limbs.

For a moment, you all froze, staring wide-eyed at each other in shock.

“Hyung, I-” Tae started.

“What was tha- whoa.” The door to the room next to Tae’s opened, revealing Jungkook and Jimin now peering out, equally shocked. “Y/n?”

“Hi, guys.” You said awkwardly, hyper aware of how compromising your current position looked. “Uh, Tae, can I get up?” You whispered, snapping you boyfriend out of his daze.

“Yeah, sorry!”

“What’s going on?” Jin asked as Tae scrambled to his feet and helped you up.

“Nothing! We were just-”

“Does Namjoon know about this?” Jungkook asked.

“Know about what?”

“Oh, for shit’s sake!” Tae whipped around to face the leader and Hobi, who had just exited the elevator, trying to hide you behind his back, as if that was going to help anything at this point.

“What is with all the noise?” Yoongi opened his door, blinking tiredly at the sight of everyone standing in the hall for several long seconds before wordlessly closing the door again, deciding against involving himself in whatever scene was unfolding right now.

“What’s going on?” Joon asked, glancing around at his members, eyes widening slightly as he spotted you, wearing one of Tae’s t-shirts and wishing to dissolve into the wallpaper. “Y/n?-”

“Y/n’s my girlfriend.” Tae blurted out loudly, causing everyone’s attention to whip to him, including yours. ”We’re dating, but I haven’t told the company yet.”

There was another pause as that information sank in, before Junkook spoke again, breaking the silence.

“Way to go, hyung.” He grinned at you and Tae.

“Yeah, good for you guys.” Jimin agreed, shooting you both a thumbs up.

“You’re not mad?” Tae asked, glancing at everyone nervously.

“Why would we be mad? So long as you’re careful, It’s your life.” Hobi said encourangingly.

“Yeah, I mean, I would’ve rather not have found out by catching you two doing that-” Jin said.

“We weren’t doing anything!” Tae exclaimed.

“Tell that to the hickey on you neck.” Jimin chirpped, dissolving into giggles as Tae clapped a hand to his neck in alarm.

“Okay, um, we can talk about this later, can everyone just please go back to your rooms before one of the staff shows up?” Joon said quickly, herding the two younger members back into their room.

“Be safe, you two!” Jungkook called, closing the door before Tae could snap back at him.

“Thank you, hyung.” Tae said to Namjoon.

“Don’t worry about it, man, we’ll talk later.” Joon replied, patting Tae on the shoulder before nodding to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” You said, catching Tae’s hand before making your way back to his room.

“Oh, hyung?” Tae leaned back out into the hall to address Jin. “What was it you came to ask me?”

The eldest member blinked for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t even remember.”

Tae nodded. “Alright then, goodnight.” He closed the door firmly, making sure both locks were engaged before slumping against it with a groan.

“Well, that’s not how I planned for that to go.” He said, rubbing his face tiredly.

“What? Telling you bandmates about us, or asking me to be your girlfriend?” You asked, leaning against the dresser as you studied him.

“Both.” He admitted, looking at you apologetically. “I am so, so sorry.”

You shrugged. “At least it was just them and not your manager.”

He nodded before slowly straightening and coming to stand in front of you. “Will you let me fix one of my missteps from tonight?”

“Depends which one it is.” You said, smirking up at him.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked you, staring down at you solomly.

“Hmm.” You pretended to mull it over. “I guess.”

“You guess?!” He balked, making you laugh.

“Yes, you goof, I will.” You relented, wraping your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss.

“Good, I don’t think my heart could take any more surprises tonight.” He mumbled against your mouth.

“Plus, the guys would be upset.”

“The guys?” He raised a brow at you before hoisting you up and dropping you on the bed. “I don’t want to hear about ‘the guys’ again for the rest of the night.” He grumbled, climbing to hover over you.

“Are you possesive now?” You asked, grinning up at him.

“You’re gonna find out.”

[lafleshlumpeater]

hi i’ve been trying to find someone perfect for my request cause tbh it’s one i’ve been thinking about for a while and i think your writing and style is absolutely amazing and idk i want you for my request. i understand you usually write fem readers but if you could please make like a gn!reader i would really really really appreciate it!! i was thinking a luke castellan x reader and everyone always jokes about you guys dating but you’ve never really had a crush on him. and then he suggests you guys just start fake dating just to make it better, and then you end up falling for him and just like yeah. fake dating to lovers yall please. thank you so much for even considering!!!

OMG. ANON. you flatter me too much, ilysm for this. i hope i did this justice and i'm so sorry for the long wait <3 (there will definitely be more than one part to this!!)

warnings: gn!reader (pls lmk if i accidentally used any gendered language so i can fix it), teasing, percabeth being 'that' couple- it's not really specified whether this is book!luke or disney!luke but for any future requests if you'd like a particular one don't be afraid to ask <3

luke castellan masterlist

“So,” Annabeth begins, clearing her throat, and just from the teasing cadence lilting her voice, you already know what she’s itching to comment on. You exhale, rolling your eyes and praying internally to every god in existence that you know of to spare you from this incessant battle. “You and Luke, training together.” She makes a pretence at nonchalance- you know her better than that.

“Yes, Annabeth,” you sigh as you take a sip of water. “Just like how practically everyone else in camp has also done. You included.” Excluding Percy, it was non-negotiable; Luke was the most experienced and skilled fighter at camp. Everyone was eager to learn a thing or two from him, and understandably so.

“Yeah, but, like- the chemistry.” The blonde counters, rubs her hands together deviously. “No-one else in camp has that with him.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with your boyfriend.” Percy; the main instigator of all of your friends, and even campers who you didn’t even know too well, encouraging the idea that there was something inexplicable going on between you and Luke Castellan. You couldn’t sympathise with the notion whatsoever- apparently, two people being of the same age and occasionally passing time together who also happen to be paired up with one another in most affairs (no doubt with the meddling of Chiron, which Luke himself seemed blissfully oblivious to), meant they were suddenly applicable for a relationship which goes beyond the boundaries of platonic.

You didn’t get it whatsoever.

“Speak of the devil,” Annabeth starts, the remnants of her scheming smirk blooming into something more genuine and pure at the sight of her boyfriend walking towards the pair of you. 

“I saw Luke just now.” The playful quip forming regarding the lack of greeting from him dies on your tongue. You couldn’t be dealing with this now- all you wanted was a productive day of training followed by a bitingly cold shower. Instead, you’re being verbally taunted- by your friends, no less- about how good of a match you are for the Hermes boy. It’s a painstakingly obvious reminder about how life never goes a demigod’s way.

The tall boy jabs a thumb vaguely behind his shoulder, his free arm sneaking around his girlfriend’s waist. Absently, she leans into him, the sickeningly sweet reaction automatic. “He was like, completely red in the cheeks. Blushing. And then he tells me the two of you were sparring just now?” His lips quirk into a grin, all teeth and mischief. “Very interesting.” You open your mouth again, with no particular retort in mind. “Oh no, but it’s all coincidental,” he continues, feigning a solemn tone. “Right. That’s my bad.”

Annabeth snorts at Percy’s antics as he holds his hands up as if in mock surrender when you swat at his shoulder. “We were sparring, Percy. Obviously he was going to be red in the face. Out of breath and all.”

He nods gravely, lips set in a straight line. You narrow your eyes, distrustful towards the mirth shimmering in his irises. “Out of breath from being so close to you.” He swoons as if imitating Luke, hands clasped together and batting his eyes up at an unknown entity- you correctly assume this imaginary being is supposedly you.

Before you can tell him off like you have oh-so-many-times in the past, he sobers up of his own accord, lips twitching from the effort of suppressing a well-humoured grin. His eyes flit to somewhere behind one of your shoulders. “Hi, Luke.”

You turn on your heel instantly. He’s standing in front of you, cheeks still tinted a delicate pink, a mere ghost of what Percy had sworn to, hair ruffling slightly in the breeze, the muted colour of his eyes a stark contrast to the startling neon of his camp t-shirt. You curse your friend to the high heavens, taking a mental note to throttle him later. “Hey.” 

He nods briefly to all parties, before redirecting his attention to you. “I forgot earlier. I’d like to talk to you about something.” He shifts slightly, repositioning himself so he looks less uncertain, back straightening and arms folded across his chest. “If you don’t mind.”

You glance behind you at the indiscreetly tittering couple, obviously amused at your expense. No matter how oblivious Luke may have been towards the magnitude of your mutual friends who were certain that the two of you were destined soulmates and it was just a matter of time and waiting, he wasn’t blind to the fact that the common belief was there. Especially now, with Percy and Annabeth whistling and hooting in a manner which was meant to be encouraging behind you. As if they didn’t take years to acknowledge that they had painfully blatant feelings for one another.

“No, yeah, we can talk,” you say casually. The two of you begin to walk, side by side, facing forward. For a few beats, there’s silence.

The quiet itself isn’t uncomfortable- the anticipation and tension of waiting for what he has to say, is.

“I want to say sorry,” Luke commences, simultaneously shattering the silence, previously only permeated by distant chatter and careless laughter. Fixing him with a befuddled frown, you rotate your head to look at him- he’s facing forward, hands are stationary in his pockets, side profile the only thing in your field of view. “I don’t know when or how, but for some reason everyone has the idea that I’m…” You watch him ponder for a moment or two, wondering how to phrase the predicament in a manner which isn’t too blunt. Dread climbs up your throat. “- romantically interested in you.”

Oh. So he isn’t as oblivious as you’d hoped.

“No, it’s all good.” You muster a polite smile, though you’re internally dying. Whether it’s from the fact that it’s being mentioned aloud, or him actually acknowledging it, or the way you can see two of your siblings brazenly ogling the interaction in your peripherals as you try to ignore them in vain, you’re clueless. “It’s not your fault… or anyone’s really.”

“I know,” he says, a tad quicker than you finish. He raises his eyebrows, suppressing a self-satisfied smirk directed in the distance. “But anyways, I think I have a solution.”

Your interest is piqued. Anything to stop the rumours that the two of you had kissed behind the Apollo cabin, to silence the snorts and innuendos thrown at you whenever Luke’s name was mentioned in your vicinity. “Really?”

He swivels to face you, halting the little stroll. You mimic his movements. “A possible solution. I mean, it would definitely work, but-.”

You tilt your head at him quizzically. “Then why is it only ‘possible’?”

He inhales. “It involves you. A lot. And you might not want to do this.”

“Do what?” Your impatience amplifies with Luke’s every ambiguous phrase. What is he thinking of?

He looks around, ensuring there’s no-one in earshot. “Date me.”

He says it so coolly, so quickly, you think you’ve heard him wrong. He must be talking about the weather, or about the arrival of a new camper, or-

Your eyes are fixed on him, jaw slack. “What?”

Eyes widening in understanding, he realises his mistake, backtracking quickly. “Not, like, dating-dating. Fake dating. Pretending to be in a relationship.” He lets it sink in for a second. “Everyone would shut up about how good we are for each other, and how we should start dating, because we actually would be. Or it would look like it, anyways. But it’s your choice.” He gauges your expression as you mull it over.

He has a point. Multiple, in fact. It’s not that you’re disgusted at the prospect of being paired with Luke- you’ve just… never considered it before, the thought foreign. The relationship between the both of you has always been friendly, borderline formal, even. So it would be nice to live your life without the unrelenting teasing and mocking from half the camp…

“Sure,” you say, attempting to mirror his casual demeanour. “I don’t mind.” His surprise directed at your compliance is evident; his eyebrows arch slightly.

He smiles at you, bemused, eyes reflecting the golden rays of sun beaming down from the summer sky. “Cool.”

An uncertain, electric thrill rushes through you. Nothing like this has ever happened before, and it’s so exhilarating already, and even more exciting. The pair of you shake on it- what’s the worst that could happen?

idk how to feel about this but i hope you like it<3

taglist: @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @explosiongamora @brutal-out-here @absolutely-existing @quickslvxrr @bibliophile-dendrophile

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

[vamossainz55]

yo no soy celoso - carlos sainz jr.

summary: inspired by 'yo no soy celoso' by bad bunny. or the one where carlos watches you be with another. a/n: idk how i feel about this one, but i really liked the idea so here it is. thank you for the request anon, i hope you enjoy! warnings: angst/bittersweet? not a happy ending.

Four drinks in and his eyes are still glued on you. He wonders whether the fifth will make it better, or if it will somehow make everything even worse. 

The club’s music doesn’t help, the beat only encourages you to continue dancing, front and center on the dancefloor with your arms wrapped around another man’s neck. 

He remembers when it was him on the dancefloor with you, his hands on your waist with his lips on your neck. He wonders whether the guy you’re with knows the way you like a tight grip on your hips, or the sweet spot right between your jaw and neck. 

It’s the first time he sees you in months, and he’s too proud of himself to admit that there’s a mixture of feelings in his chest. You look different, the good type of different, happy even. You hadn’t even flinched the moment you both greeted each other earlier that evening, wearing a smile that had your eyes crinkling. 

He watches you smile at the man, the way your hand gently goes through his hair before you’re both connecting lips. Carlos doesn’t even bother to be discreet, watching you both as he continues to take a sip of his drink. 

The vodka is heavy on his tongue as he swallows, feeling the burn travel through his body. 

He remembers the countless nights out you’ve both shared, messy make outs in the club before scurrying home with your hands all over one another. He wonders whether you’ll do the same tonight. 

“At this point, it’s just a bit sad.” Lando’s words go right through him, and Carlos doesn’t even bother to spare his old teammate a glance. The British driver doesn’t seem to care though, settles beside Carlos anyways. Lando’s gaze follows his eyes and they both are watching you now. They watch you pull away with a smile, stealing a quick kiss before you turn, pressing your back against the man’s chest. 

Carlos remembers the last conversation you both shared, the screams you both let out to one another. Months of pent up frustration culminating to a night of yelling, tears, and hurtful words. He remembers walking away from you that night, saying it was the last of it, that he wasn’t ready to give you what you wanted. 

He wonders if he should have tried a bit harder. 

Wonders if the guy you’re with will do better. 

“Who is he?” Carlos asks, and for what feels like the first time this evening he looks away from you, gaze falling onto Lando instead. 

“Her boyfriend, they’ve been going out for like a few months now.” It’s not the answer Carlos wants, but he appreciates the truth nonetheless, but even then he has to wash it away with what’s remaining in his glass. 

It’s ironic really, the way he had walked away from you that night, just to find himself staring at an empty glass in a club with you dancing meters away from him but with another form of company. 

It’s selfish, but a part of him wishes you had taken longer to move on, and maybe, just maybe, the night would end differently. 

Maybe you’d both have too many drinks.

Maybe you’d dance. 

Maybe you’d kiss. 

Maybe you’d stumble back into old habits together, wake up the next morning with your limbs tangled with one another’s. And maybe, just maybe, he’d finally have the courage to commit, to promise you something different. 

Carlos’ eyes go back to you, watches how your fingers intertwine with your boyfriend’s. You whisper something to his ear before he’s nodding, turning his body, and Carlos knows you, knows that you’re both about to leave.

For a moment your eyes meet and you spare him a smile. He forces himself to smile back. 

His eyes follow you both to the exit, watching the way you both disappear through the door. 

Carlos wonders.

[metallicaislife]

Dating Lars Headcanons

A/N: Lars deserves so much love!! Secured a spot on a record with no band, put an ad in the paper and the rest is history. thx for coming to my ted talk.

Requested by: Anon

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

SFW Headcanons

You were just living your life blissfully unaware everything was about to change forever

At a bar with some friends, Lars spotted you and he was done for

Hadn’t spoken to you yet or anything but knew that he would move mountains for you if he could

He was hesitant to approach, he didn’t want to come off as a creep, he desperately wanted you to notice him the same way he noticed you

And that you did, as your friends laughed and chatted you couldn’t help but notice the guy across the bar who was already looking at you, rather than looking away trying to play it off, he gave you a sheepish grin and it made your heart skip a beat

You got up to get another drink and that is when Lars made his move

He’d start off with some cheesy pickup line- 

“What’s your favorite drink? Just so I know what to order you on our first date.” 

Literally if anyone else pulled that, repulsion. But he was just so freaking cute and it was smooth as hell

So you chatted a little bit lots of flirty flirting 

You didn’t want to be a bad friend and ditch them so reluctantly you went back to your group but not before exchanging numbers with Lars

He calls you that night, he just knows the two of you are meant to be and so he isn’t going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers

He’s a pretty busy guy but he was more worried about your schedule and found a time that worked best for you and made it work 

Top tier first date, like best first date you’ve ever been on

So of course you said yes when he asked you again

Then you beat him to the next ask and it made him absolutely melttttt

You two start dating exclusively really quickly

He just comes off as an absolute lovebug to me idk haha

So like it doesn’t matter who you’re in front of or what the situation is he is touching you at ALL times- not in a nasty way, get your mind out the gutter 👀

Holding your hand, holding you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder

Sitting on the couch your legs are touching, he has a hand on your thigh, plays with your hair, rubs your back etc

And when you reciprocate and hold on to him or play with his hands or hair, or tickle his back he’s so giddy and cute 

When you’re alone it’s even more so, your legs across his lap, or sitting in his lap

Taking turns spooning or letting the other lay their head on their chest

Just all the sweet snuggles!! 

And he can talk for hours, doesn’t matter what it’s about, but it’s so comforting listening to him whether it’s about the band and the upcoming tour, or its absolute nonsense

He gets so mad when you fall asleep on him and he can’t get up and get the camera because you look so damn cute and he wants to immortalize that in a photo but he doesn’t want to disturb you

So when he does catch you sleeping and it’s not on him there are so many photos of you and you just look so peaceful 

He just adores you so much 

LOVES IT WHEN YOU CAN COME ON TOUR WITH HIM

Knowing you’re backstage when he’s done and ready to give him a big ol’ hug even when he’s super sweaty and probably a little stinky makes him so freaking happy 

When his kit is getting setup before soundchecks he lets you play around on them and even if you’ve got absolutely no rhythm he’s gonna be hyping you up so hard

“You’re so good, baby! You should come out and play during one of the songs tonight!” 

You just roll your eyes, but the fact that he supports you in all you do, even if you aren’t good at something yet makes you feel all warm and fuzzy

You two are just the cutest ever and deserve all the happy endings 🥹

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

[spectrerie]

Ok I have no idea if your requests are on or not because I literally never request but I love your writing so here I am! Anyways I can’t stop thinking about ghost x hacker reader who works with 141 and they have to go with the guys on a mission to like hack through security systems or something (idk) but ghost absolutely refuses to let them go like he is so against it. And maybe while they’re on the mission the reader gets hurt or something idrk I haven’t thought that far ahead but I thought you would do so good with this idea!!! Thank you!!

Hello!!!!!!! This request is so good! I got a bit carried away and wrote 3.5k words on it lmaoo, but I'm happy with it now, so I'll post it as an answer to this ask

If you die, I swear I'll kill you.

Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

Please enjoy this anon, and anyone else who reads it.

TW: injury, slight workplace bullying, enemies(?) to friends

“With all due respect, sir, no. I don’t need to babysit some egg-head while I’m in the field.” Ghost sat with his arms crossed, knees apart, filling his chair and the room with his presence. 

You glanced at Price, you’d both expected this reaction, but it still hurt to hear him say it so easily.  For nearly two years you’d put your best foot forward. Did everything to get him to like you until it became clear that he never would. You were ready to settle for respect, for a crumb of acknowledgement. Though soon that too was clearly out of your reach. Now you were just happy to keep out of his way. You weren’t part of the 141, no matter how much information you’d stolen for them, no matter how much data you mined for them, no matter how many sleepless nights you’d given them. You weren’t a soldier. Ghost made sure to remind you of that at every chance he got. 

At every debrief he treated you like you were just a piece of the furniture. He ignored you with ease, asking questions to everyone but you. Making plans and strategising with everyone’s strengths in mind but yours. Any information he needed about what you could do he’d obtained through Captain Price. Often with you in the same room, going over your head like you were some machinery he’d be crazy to speak to. 

You typed and looked through files. You were a glorified intern as far as he was concerned. 

“Well Lieutenant, it’s not up to you, is it? Owl is going with you, and that’s final.” 

A part of you cringed at the nickname despite the joy it normally filled you with. You’d felt honoured when Soap had coined it. The night owl of the 141, playing with mice and bringing veritable feasts of information back to the nest. But hearing it used in front of Ghost felt wrong. You could feel his eyes roll without even looking at him. 

You didn’t need a call sign. 

You didn’t need to be closer to the 141.  

You didn’t even need a name, because they didn’t need you. 

“Yes, sir.” He said as he stood to attention, mumbling his acknowledgement to the Captain            as he prepared for his dismissal. 

“Final brief at 0400. Wheels up at 0500, understood?” Price barked out at the two of you. You both gave your acknowledgement and he nodded, satisfied for now. 

“Alright, dismissed.” 

Ghost made a quick exit, as though being in your presence was more than enough to make him ill. You sighed and began to move, but a hand at your shoulder stopped you. 

“Owl, don’t let him get to you. You’re a part of this team, and you’re needed on this mission. I wouldn’t send you out if I didn’t believe you needed to be there.” 

You nodded, dropping you head to pull back the tears that threatened to fall. 

“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.” 

“I know you won’t. Your intel has always been good. We don’t have the time to wait for the boys to bring the drives back, if they even knew what to look for, time isn’t on our side.” 

You knew that better than anyone. If only Lieutenant Riley would admit that you weren’t an incompetent civilian, maybe things would go along quicker. 

 — — — 

“Alright boys, this one should be simple, yeah? We go in, subdue any hostiles, grab the tech and get the fuck out. I don’t want any mistakes, I don’t want any problems,” Ghost’s eyes stopped at you as he said the last word, “I don’t want any bad news, understood?” He said as his voice boomed over the sound of the plane's engine. 

“Yes sir!” The group called out as one. This would be easy, as he said. You didn’t have to do too much, just follow the group and live long enough to break through the encrypted drives. From their you could relay the information back to Price and Laswell. Simple. 

Your eyes drew closed as you took in a breath, trying to centre yourself. Get in, get the drives, get out. Job done. You repeated your mantra until you fell into a fitful sleep.

You woke with a start as your name was barked out. 

Lieutenant Riley stood over you, arms crossed. An obvious scowl beneath his mask. 

“Gotten enough beauty sleep, sunshine?” 

The plane was empty, your teammates stood out on the makeshift runway, watching your change out of earshot. The late evening sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows into the plane.

“I’m sorry sir, I just wanted to be rested for the mission.” 

“Well, aren’t you considerate, thank you so much, Pigeon.” His voice dripped with a saccharine sarcasm that cut you to your core. You hate that he’d made a mockery of the callsign you were so fond of. You were sure other people had slept on the flight over. Why was he singling you out so cruelly? 

“Are you still on your bloody arse?” He barked out, loud enough too draw the attention of your teammates. “Sorry, sir!” you replied as you jumped up. Your body was yanked back with a start, bucking against the fastening that had kept you in your seat. Your head knocked back against the body of the plane, tilting your helmet over your eyes. 

“Oh fucking hell, Pigeon. If you get yourself killed on this bloody mission, I’ll murder you.” His hand made quick work of your seatbelt, snatching it off you in one sharp motion, sending you lurching forward.

If only you’d had the confidence to tell him off. 

If only you had the kind of easy relationship with him that he had with everyone else, one that transcended rank enough to quip back at him. 

If only he didn’t hate you. 

If only he could see you. Not just look at you scornfully, but see you. See your efforts, see your strength. 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” You said with your eyes focused on the floor. Your gaze could have cut two pinholes in the undercarriage of the plane. You grabbed your gear and rushed down the gangway, thankful Ghost hadn’t pointed out all the things he found wrong with your apology. With your posture, with your face, with your breathing, with your existence. 

“Alright. It’s 30 klicks to their base, but we’ll have to trek the last 5k. Johnny, you get us in, Gaz and I will clear a path while you watch our six. You,” Lieutenant Riley said with derision, “don’t die and find the drives after we’ve swept the place, understood?” You nodded sharply. 

“Alright lads, this one’s easy. Any hostiles will be eliminated on sight, in and out, home in time for Eastenders.” Soap and Gaz laughed easily at Simon’s joke. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to show any crumb of happiness in front of him. Maybe he’d yank your tongue out if you so much  as chuckled and bring it home for his dog. 

As you made your way to the jeep Soap fell into step with you. 

“Ye alright?” He asked, a gentle smile playing on his face. How could you be alright? He was always so kind to you, and Kyle always treated you with respect. Even the KorTac boys said ‘hello’, or ‘thanks for the intel’ once in a while whenever you ran into them. Ghost seemed pissed that he had to breathe the same air as you. 

A short sigh escaped before you could regain your composure, “yeah, I’m okay. It’s just… I don’t want to mess up. It’s my first time really out in the field and—” and Lieutenant Riley, your best friend and our commanding officer hates my guts and doesn’t care to hide it. “And I just want to do well.” Soap nodded, though he couldn’t really understand. He’d been a soldier since he was 18. He’d proven himself time and time again even before he ever saw active duty. His abilities were undeniable. 

You, as Ghost loved to remind you and everyone around you, were a desk jockey egg-head recruited after you’d been caught ransoming credit card companies and running stings on pedophiles with your ‘internet pals’. Caught or betrayed, the thought still plagued you, though the end result had been a job offer from the British Army in lieu of prison time. Soap and Gaz thought you were a genius, some sort of cyber Robin Hood fighting the good fight from smokey internet cafes or 6 monitor supercomputers. Captain Price saw you as a clever kid with good intentions but questionable methods. 

Ghost… well Ghost made no secret of the fact he thought you were an egg-head. An energy  drink guzzling college drop-out with a lot of free time and no common sense. A basement dweller with more waifu body pillows than real life friends. A useless kid with no place in battle, regardless of the fact that your intel was what told him where to go more times than not. 

“He doesn’t hate you, he’s just… well he’s just Ghost. He’s never worked with you, I’m sure things will change after this.” You nodded, thankful for the reassurance though you didn’t really buy much of it. As you opened the jeep door and slid into one of the back seats you noticed Ghost’s eyes were trained on you through the rearview mirror. Watching for something to pick on you for, of course. 

You held his gaze as you closed the door and dropped your gear bag between your feet. ‘That’s right Lt, I can sit down without strangling myself on the seatbelt’ you longed to say to him. You settled for holding his gaze and raising your eyebrows at him. As the jeep rumbled to life you could have sworn you heard a laugh. 

— — — 

Ghost glanced at the pistol holstered on you thigh, as well as the knife sheathed at your hip. The urge to ramble about your right to protect yourself and defend your teammates bubbled up in your chest, the citric need to bite back at him almost won. Thankfully he spoke before you did. 

“You do know how to use that, right?” He whispered to you, crouched to your right, Gaz to your left. You’d gone through basic gun training and safety as well as first aid at Captain Price’s insistence once you’d begun working more and more with the 141. A fact you were sure Ghost knew. He’d never let you carry a weapon without a direct order from Price. A direct order not to snatch it on sight and send you to sit in a corner and think about how stupid you were. 

“Of course, sir,” you quipped back. Your sarcasm was cut with anxiety. This was real. You didn’t have to kill anyone, you just had to keep up and not die. But this was so real. A gun range was nothing in comparison. The slide of the gravel beneath your boots, the heat of your comrades beside you, the dull green of the night vision. This was real. 

“Ghost, do you copy? 30 seconds to detonation.” Soap’s voice was tinny through the comm on Ghost’s shoulder. 

30 seconds? 

Seconds?!

Your heart pumped a punishing beat as the reality of it all sunk deeper and deeper. 

A hand on your knee brought you back to the moment. “Look at me,” the last voice you’d ever expect to comfort you was all that filled your ears. The surprise washed away the fear for a moment as you looked into Ghost’s eyes. 

“The second you hear the blast, stay low and follow us, okay? You’ll want to jump up, don’t.”

“Okay.” 

His dark eyes stared into you as he spoke. “Keep your weapon in your hands, keep your eyes on me, keep up, and keep calm. This is the fun part.” A low chuckled from Gaz calmed you further. 

“I’ve got your six, just focus on moving with the group, okay?” Gaz whispered beside you. 

“Okay.”

All you could do was agree, any eloquence you’d had before had long since dissipated. 

A deafening boom rang out and the urge to run flooded every nerve in your body. You watched Ghost. 

Keep your eyes on me

You focused on Ghost’s broad back as you moved with him. Focused on keeping close. On surviving. 

The next minutes were a blur of gun fire and barked out commands. The muzzle flash of the weapons around you was enough to make the night vision useless and so with shaky hands and shallow breaths you pushed the goggles up as you moved through a maze of rooms with Ghost as your guide. 

A heavy hand against your chest stopped you before you had a chance to run into your Lieutenant. 

“Gaz, now.” He barked quickly as a heavy boot made contact with the door, pushing it from the frame. Garrick fired as he moved deftly into the room, sweeping the corner as Ghost fired at a figure hunched over a laptop. 

Everything was happening too quickly. You were pushed into the room, or pulled, you couldn’t know. As your body entered your mind stayed back and watched as a figure rose from a position under the desk. Before you could even see their eyes they hit the floor with a thud. 

A wave of nausea spread through you as you moved to where they’d been, pushing the bodies away from the computer as you grabbed it and began to type a series of commands into the terminal. Your hands shook as you pushed a thumb-drive into a port and watched as your code froze the deletion process. You left that to work as you pulled open desk drawers and riffled through their contents, shovelling everything in sight into your pack. 

“Hurry up!” 

You obeyed, moving quicker as you grabbed files and thick plastic drives with greedy, shaking hands. The final drawer was locked tight. You wanted to call out for a key but shame held you tongue. You pulled at it and it held firm. Ghost could have yanked it open with one hand, you were sure. His presence in the room motivated you to think like a soldier. Think like him. 

‘I’m not useless. I’m not useless. I’m not useless.’ You chanted to yourself as you reached to you side and gripped your knife. Jamming it into a gap in the drawer you pushed your whole weight onto it and heard a click. 

Yes. You weren’t useless after all. 

“Owl! Wait!” 

With unbridled euphoria you yanked the drawer open and felt your body and mind reconnect with a violent snap. Like a spark to gas you ignited with something you couldn’t recognise. Warmth spread through your middle as you glanced down into the drawer. It was empty. 

“Oh shit.”

“Soap call in a medevac, now!” 

Why was it empty? Were they all shouting because it was empty?

Your hand dug into the wooden cube, patting around until you felt something give. You pushed up into it and heard something drop. Another hard drive. 

“Owl, Owl you need to move, now.” 

A firm hand grasped you by the shoulder and you shook it off. You bent down to pick up the drive and a white hot pain seared your abdomen. You ignored it, and with a sharp wince you grabbed the final drive. 

Why were your hands shaking so much? Was it the excitement of war?

You turned to collect the laptop but it was already in Gaz’s hands. He was shoving it into your pack as Ghost grabbed the drive in your hand and tossed it to him. 

“No! No, I have to decrypt the—”

“You have to move. Now.” Ghost retorted sharply as he angled himself to block your view of Gaz. 

When had they stripped you of your pack? 

Why was Lieutenant Riley suddenly pushing you out the door you’d all just come through?

How were you able to see your group moving through the halls? Watching the retreat from an unnatural vantage point, making note of the thick trail of something syrupy behind you. 

Was that blood? Did your sloppiness get one of them injured?

— — — 

The jeep you’d left 5 kilometres away speed into view in front of the compound you’d just sacked. 

Was it moving or were you? 

Hands pushed you into it and began pulling off the kevlar and fabric of covering your torso. 

‘Is it bad?” Soap’s voice came from the front of the vehicle. 

“No, its not too bad,” Ghost said to you rather than Soap. You craned your head down to look at the wound, but a strong hand tilted your chin away. 

“I thought I told you to keep your eyes on me, Pigeon” he said lowly as you searched his face for some clue of what was happening. His derisive diminutive sounded odd now, it was laced with something tender. 

“Sorry lieutenant, I just wanted to—” you didn’t know how to finish. 

I just wanted to see for myself? 

I just wanted to be a part of the team?

“— I just wanted to impress you. I’m sorry, sir.” You mumbled as your lids grew heavy. 

The pressure on your stomach increased as Ghost spoke to you in low whispers. “Impress me? How? By falling asleep? We’ve already talked about that, soldier. I told you to keep your eyes on me. That’s an order.” 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” 

— — — 

Your eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of a white stucco ceiling. 

Shit. 

Ghost would kill you for falling asleep again. As you tried to sit up your body barked out in protest. A dull ache blanketed your left side and pulsed through you. 

A hand pushed you back down gently. Resting for a beat on your shoulder before pulling away.

“Slow down, kid. You’ll rip your stitches out.” You knew that voice. You turned your head to look at the Lieutenant. You’d already known it was him, all that surprised you was the lack of contempt in his voice. 

You couldn’t speak. You just looked around, taking in the small makeshift clinic you’d found yourself in. 

“The hospital was too far,” Ghost said, answering the question you mind was already forming, “so they set this up in a safe house nearby.” You nodded, laying back against the pillows. “Sir? What happened?” 

You heard Lieutenant Riley sigh as you stared up at the ceiling above you. Too timid to look at him as he recounted your failures on the mission. 

“The drawer was rigged. If you’d been taller, or wider, the shrapnel that hit you would have been fatal, Owl.” 

The name drew your eyes to him before you could stop yourself. 

“I’ve graduated from Pigeon?” You asked, trying to cut the tension in the small room. He laughed,  and the sound was enough to make the pain in your abdomen dissipate. 

You’d made him laugh.

You had made Ghost laugh. 

“You got injured, and didn’t give up. That was a tough thing you did, Owl. I’m proud of you.” 

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, it took everything you had not to let them fall. A warm  on hand your head was what completely undid you. Hot tears slipped out of your closed eyes as Lieutenant Riley stroked your hair more gently than you’d ever thought a man of his size was capable of. 

“You did well, don’t worry.” 

You gathered yourself, remembering the objective of the mission. “How long was I out, sir? Has the  operation window passed?” 

He pulled his hand back slowly before he spoke. “Intel over here took a look at some of the materials before sending them back with Soap and Gaz. The boys back home will decrypt as much as they can while you’re healing up here. Doc said you’d be okay to fly within 48 hours.” 

You nodded, trying to keep your disappointment in check. You wouldn’t even get a chance to do what you were good at. 

“But,” Ghost said slowly, drawing your attention away from the pity party you’d already began throwing for yourself. “No one could make heads or tails of what was on the laptop.” 

“So its useless then?” You asked, trying to push the hurt out of your voice. 

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Ghost let out a low chuckle. God, you’d become addicted to that sound already. “Whatever you plugged into it before you got hurt completely stumped everyone, they said only you’d be able to retrieve anything from it.” 

A warm pride filled your chest. No one could do what you could. You weren’t useless. 

“So… unfortunately for you, Pigeon. I’ve brought you some homework while I babysit you. Are you up for it?” 

Ghost dropped the laptop onto your lap. Your thumb-drive was still plugged into it, filled with malware and viruses you’d cooked up over the years. 

You smiled at him, beaming with pride as you opened the device. “Of course, just keep your eyes on me, sir. I’ll be done in no time.” 

[shitouttabuck]

Do you have any buddie fic recommendations for me? Sweet fluffy smutty idc I need something good 🥺

hiya! these are some of my faves off the top of my head and you’ve probably read most of them and if you’re like. nina. these are eighty percent fics by your mutuals. well i BECAME pals with them by adoring their writing and bullying my way into their lives about it <3

stitch my soul 30.5k by @onward--upward (soulmates au that genuinely changed my whole life i think about it daily—fair warning it’s a little heartachey, but in the best way)

it’s nice to have a friend 6.4k by @colonoscopys (a little domesticity i love this with my whole heart it’s so soft and sweet)

drench yourself in words unspoken 26k by @eddiediazes (everything is the same except eddie secretly writes romance novels and i reread this like once a month it makes me so happy)

the side effects of eating too many clementines 3k by @forthewolves (idk what to even say, no one writes love like amanda writes love, it’s a bigger-than-your-chest kind of feeling)

(this kiss is) something i can't resist 7.9k by @clusterbuck (family curse where eddie has to kiss his true love in one year or he’ll die, i laughed so much, EXACTLY the kind of romcom shit with a side of ridiculous i adore)

growing sideways 3k by @housewifebuck (extremely evan buck buckley is christopher diaz’s parent and you WILL cry about it)

left your mark on this heart 5.8k by @anxieteandbiscuits (buck thinks he has post-lightning heart complications but he’s just That stupid in love)

slip like freudian 4.4k by @jeeyuns (eddie diaz gets jinxed and is Extremely entertaining about it)

sundae kind of love 18k by @rewritetheending (okay this was the first morgan fic i ever read—and maybe one of the First buddie fics i read actually—and i think about the pier scene all the time! au where buck works at an ice cream shop by the beach)

maybe fall in love 1.8k by @try-set-me-on-fire (brick’s writing is just. unfailingly gorgeous but also 8 out of 10 times the most devastating thing you’ll ever read so this is a sweet, minimal emotional damage first kiss one???)

there’s always been a rainbow hangin’ over your head 8.7k by @alyxmastershipper (just the heartwarmingest of coming outs feat. the mug of my dreams. so so soft)

i think it’s my body wanting it the most by @transboybuckley (post-date that they’re not sure is a date, this is under a thousand words and i could not stop beaming i come back to it all the damn time)

you shaped this heart of mine 5k by justhockey (i haven’t reread this because it was such an enormous ache—in a good way—when i read it the first time, but god. god i love it so much. domestic sickfic)

i’ll scrawl it on every wall i see 29k by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (loosely a you’ve got mail au???? which is simply my favourite romcom in the whole world. this is so fucking funny as is everything they write and i adore it)

there ain’t language for the things i feel 1.8k by calvingseason (eddie buys buck a plant at the farmers market it is. so unbelievably soft)

i’ve almost certainly forgotten a bunch of faves so let me trawl through my bookmarks later and round some more up!!!!! highly rec ALL of these guys’ fics though SOME OF YOU are hell bent on breaking my heart these days and anon asked for “sweet. fluffy. smutty” and not hole-in-chest-in-shape-of-author's-fist, so

[ofmermaidstories]

Hello mermsie! Forever and ever ago you brought up a rejected mates fic idea and at the time I was like 👀 but hadn't read any... well this last week I read like three and a half rejected mates books so now I'm all 👀👀👀!!! So - if you were gonna write a rejected mates fic, what reason would the boys have for rejecting a reader? I can see bakugo doing it out of stubborn pride pre-character development but I wanna know what you think!

Also I know the One True Soulmate thing makes you bitey so if you want an interesting subversion of the trope, may I recommend Tangle of Need by Nalini Singh? The psy-changeling series is one of my all-time favorites, I've listened to the audiobooks a dozen times each while working in the studio. My favorite book in the series is a tie between Shards of Hope and Silver Silence.

Love, 💎

did you enjoy the ones you read, gemmy? i couldn’t rec any, bc i was reading mine through tiktok LMAO whoops. 💀 luv that app. 🩷 but as for how i’d write one… idk! 🧐 i’m too much of a sook—i couldn’t write anything where bakugou or deku or whoever else rejects us, LOL. that would be their first and only chance with us, the fic would immediately devolve into a different pairing from there on out LMAO. like, bakugou rejects us because he’s a fucking wanker, and then reader runs away to a small rural town and ends up washing radishes for a living and ends up falling in love with like, shoji or something. someone kind and patient, who’s overcome his own hurt. 🥺 NOT deku bc he is basically an extension of kacchan, the fucking traitor. 🔪 die die die. 🔪

i’m sorry gemmy. 💀 you’re asking out of genuine interest and i’m like “REJECT US? NO! 🔪” LOL. u were right about bitey. 😭 i’m possessive. 😭 ur my person forever, or one of us dies. 😙 easy peasy.

i think if was doing it in a proper attempt though, and not just going with my “immediately deviating off-course into a different pairing” idea, i guessss i’d try to subvert the trope by making our Reader be the one to reject the love interest? but my concerns with that would be: is it stripping what people enjoy out of said trope, and am i doing the subversion for the right reasons? like, subverting tropes or cliches only works if you love and respect the original recipe, and as someone who’s never been particularly interested in soulmate-and-related tropes, i would wanna afford it the same dignity and earnestness that a mega-fan would.

like, idk if this is your experience with reading them, you’ll have to chime in gem-anon, but like, to me rejected-mates type stories are about the high-octane angst and drama (being roughly and cruelly shunted to the side, regardless of the MC’s genuine feelings) and then the grovelling (the way the Love Interest comes crawling back, begging forgiveness for their mistake and thus showering our poor mistreated MC with non-stop love and affection). so i think my question would be, could you deliver that in a different package (Reader being the one to do the Rejecting TM)? is it even possible? 🧐 like, why would Reader be rejecting them in the first place (fear, i guess? 🧐 of what? them? what being fated-mates would mean? is there an inherent loss of personal freedom involved in that (like, is Reader free to pursue their interests still, like schooling, even if it meant having to move away from ur Mate for a few years?), or is Reader just like, paranoid, LOL)? what’s the appeal? like, where is the fantasy fulfilment if it’s Reader pushing the guy away??? i guesssss off the top of my head, i’d say it’d be like: oh, the fantasy here is even though you have thrown a wall up between u (the rejection of ur magical bond), ur would-be boyfie would relentlessly still try to prove that he wants to be there, that he wants to stick around, that he will wait and that he considers u something precious to wait for. 🥺 which i think is fun, LOL, but it’s like: does it work as a point of difference to the melodrama of the original trope? 🥺😭

‘cause like, you’re right gemmy—pre-development bakugou would be good for the trope in it’s original packaging. 😩 unfortunately, LOL. tbh im kind of sitting here like, why do i like him again….. LOL dsflkjsdklfjdslkf. hmmmm. 🧐 if we strictly had to write this trope, as-is, then i guess i’d probably employ a “doing it for your protection” type trope/reasoning. 😩 and then there’s a bit of miscommunication, bc Reader is like, understandably hurt (although tbh if had to rework how the soulmates thing worked, in this AU, i would make rejection instantly painful LMFAO. bam, now Reader’s disabled for most of the fic thanks to fantasy-sad-heartbreak disease. which actually hm… could be interesting. 🧐 living with illness that wipes you out and makes day-to-day living is hard enough as it is, without having that be inflicted on us by someone who is, ostensibly, meant to not hurt us 🥺).

idk idk!!! i guess what im saying is that we could probably go one of several ways, if we were trying to introduce a rejected-mates fic into the WIP pile. 🥹 i think it would just depend on what the others here would like—expect and want out of it!!! 🥺 what would you want out of it, gemmy? what would you wanna see? 🥺

(p.s., i added the three titles you rec’d to my library wishlist—i have a series to try and speed through first (i’ve been so bad with reading this past month 💀) but then i will borrow them out, unless you recommend reading the series chronologically??? 🥺)

[wri0thesley]

*bursts through the door* I AM HERE WITH OTOME RECCS FRIEND—

Nameless: The One Thing You Must Recall: Cheritz’s other traditional visual novel. If you liked Dandelion, you’ll probably love this even more. It’s got beautiful art and most definitely leans into a horror aspect (in both the bad endings and some routes!) sometimes while still having nice romance. Available on Steam.

Even If Tempest: this game IS on the Switch but I had to recommend it anyways, it’s the first one I thought of when you asked for dark fantasy! Another really beautiful game with some really fun gameplay mechanics and one of my absolute favorite MCs. I also really love all the boys in some way!

Nightshade: you can get this one on both the Switch and on Steam! Idk how much you’re into historical stories, but I’ll recommend it anyways because it’s one of my favorite games and it absolutely is angsty haha. It takes place right after Japan’s Sengoku period and it’s about shinobi (ninjas). Really pretty art, another one of my favorite MCs, and another game where I love most of the boys.

Olympia Soirée: so, this game has pretty detailed world-building and a lot of darker themes, so that’s the main reason for my recommendation. There are themes of misogyny and dubcon and noncon in it, so just a heads-up before you look into it more <3 But I personally enjoy it a lot and it’s another game that’s just beautiful art-wise (are you noticing a pattern here…). Available on the Switch.

Cafe Enchante: I haven’t played this game myself, but it has a reputation for two things: (1) allowing you to date mostly nonhuman characters, and (2) looking really sweet and cute but actually being an angst-fest. I don’t know how to rate it personally, but I thought I’d toss it your way anyways. Available on the Switch.

Hakuouki: a classic, you can get both games for super cheap on Steam. Another historical game, but with some fantasy elements thrown in as well.

Virche Evermore: this game comes out this fall, but I’m bringing it to your attention anyways because it is RIGHT up your alley, I think. It’s supposed to be a super dark fantasy/sci-fi game with a lot of heavy stuff in it, to the point that you have to play all the bad endings before you can play the good endings. The game wants you to feel bad haha. Available for the Switch.

Finally, if you liked Amnesia and you’re enjoying Piofiore, I’ll definitely also tell you about Piofiore 1926 and Amnesia Later x Crowd! Both of those games are for the Switch, and they’re great if you like the first two games. 1926 is a direct sequel to Piofiore with the same dark tone and a lot of the same themes, while Later x Crowd is a fandisc (game with additional fanservicey material haha) that does pick up where the first game left off, but it’s a lot fluffier? It can definitely be played like a sequel too. I enjoyed it a lot personally just because I love all the guys from Amnesia haha. So definitely check those out if you’re interested!

Okay, sorry for the long ask, but I couldn’t resist when you asked for recommendations hehe. I hope this is okay! Happy playing, and please keep us updated if you do end up playing more <3

ahh thank you so much for the recommendations anon!!! i will keep an eye on the ones that are switch only; i cant justify the £45 ones really but when they are on sales i may swoop in and grab them!!! <3

[sylvies-chen]

Thoughts on Nolan as a TO

anon idk if you sent this twice or if another anon also coincidentally asked the same thing as you BUT I will give my opinion on this!!

if you’re looking for a nolan shitfest though, I can’t give that to you. because he has made a few mistakes as a TO (which is understandable because it’s literally his first rookie ever) but apart from that I would best describe his style and journey as a TO as… nonexistent??

the few times we’ve seen him really be highlighted as a TO instead of just a regular officer with a partner have been times where he’s fucking up. and I guess that’s just part of his style, that he’s the teacher that doesn’t feel like a teacher but rather a swell guy here to just help out and give advice, but I truly feel like he acts with celina the same way he acts with lucy at work, or any of his colleagues. which I guess is my issue with it, is that nolan chose to be a TO and if there was ever a prominent storyline of him really navigating how to be a TO and teach all the things that need to be taught, then it wasn’t memorable enough for me to remember. like… I think I actually liked nolan better in the early seasons (minus dating lucy im scrubbing bleach on that memory) because they leaned more into his swell old guy routine and made him more interesting and prominent, but now he’s literally just there now. he’s not a “good” or “bad” TO in my mind, because I don’t feel like his teaching has anything unique or interesting that’s been showcased. Have aaron and celina applied something to their job yet that only nolan could have taught them? Has Celina thrived under his leadership? No and no!

Weirdly enough, it makes me want to see more of him TO-ing, because it just falls flat for me right now. him individually, like fighting off “bad guys” in weird situations with bailey or whatever, seems to be their go-to route for him right now which is fine, but I wish they’d give his teaching more substance even worth debating y’know?

[paperstarwriters]

hey i’m the anon who sent in that long critical ask to the queer characters blog; what discord harassment group is that other guy talking about 😭 sorry to use you as a go between, but multiple people can have the same criticisms of a piece of media. hello?? i haven’t interacted with the arcana fandom since i was in high school, i usually just block and move on if random people put it on my dash. if i sounded like i was upset or heated it’s because the arcana is like bordering on being a trigger for me lmfao but i don’t endorse harassment campaigns

anyway, in regards to the bird thing — it harkens back to the historical antisemitic jew nose/hawk nose imagery used prolifically by the nazis. and julian’s normal nose is already drawn rather large and hooked, and i’ve seen jewish arcana fans say that his design in general makes them uncomfortable, especially since this game is written/developed by goyim. red hair, sleepy eyes, hooked nose; all rather stereotypically caricature-esque features. also portia and the mother character whose name i forget fall into antisemitic design/personality stereotypes as well. uh i wish i could link you some academic articles or readings or something but i’m kind of worried tumblr is going to eat this ask if i keep leaving it idling in another tab LMFAO, if i can i really would like to dig up some actual texts about it, but um i’ve mostly just heard personal anecdotal evidence about the bird depictions being linked to antisemitism which is kind of hard to find and link as a credible source. but imo i don’t think it’s hard to link the whole bird motif thing to the antisemitic jew nose stereotype?

and to address the point of engaging with the fandom — i mean do what you want but i personally don’t really see any merit in the actual game when you strip away all the awful stuff, and to build a fandom around that and continue to promote/bring publicity to the game feels. icky. sort of like HP enjoyers, in that you can denounce the problematic aspects of it all you want, but you’re still banding around the dumpster fire and warming your hands on it, you know? maybe the new content brings more to the table, i left right about when the first three routes were ending, but. last i was there, idk what of the game/plot are left when you ignore all the shit.

anyway um finally i don’t mean any of this as like. attacking or harassing anyone. i don’t usually do things like this, usually i just block and move on, but (in regards to the queer character blog i sent the original ask to) my hackles sort of raised when i saw someone mention wanting to promote the game. people deserve to know what they’re getting into and i don’t want any poc/jewish people/abuse survivors/etc getting blindsided by the content in what markets itself to be a pretty fantasy otome game

Hello! thank you very, very much for the information! As for your questions and comments, the discord harassment group, I can only povide anacdodal points to this as I wasn't a part of the discord group, but I belive what happened was that someone had taken the position that shipping two characters was morally wrong—the ship between Asra and Julian specifically I belive, and they started a whole harassment campaign towards an individual who shipped the two of them together, but through an entirely new au exploring the uncertainty of a relatioinship without explicitly accusing one side or the other (again, anecdotal, I haven't exactly read that yet, so I can't exactly conform currently.) And while their point on the toxicity or racist undertones of the ship was likely well-founded, they went too far, accusing the person who shipped Asra and Julian to multiple other bad actions which were eventually revealed as false.

but yeah, 100% two people can have the same two critiques of a media and one can express those critiques in a more harmful way than the other.

As for the points about continuing to engage with the game I do agree that it can feel discomforting to continue to connect to media that has this many problematic issues, and while yes continuing to engage in bad media or bad pieces of work can be discomforting because of it's origin, there are still people who found a lot of worth and comfort certain aspects of the story. Personally I never engaged as much with Julian or Portia or their respective routes so I cannot say for certain, but in Muriel's route, the story is a little different thatn the initial three, and there are some clear gaps that can be explored more or simple traits that can be engaged with in a better light which can foster discussion rather than present a bad steryotype. Again, this may not be as easily applicable to Julian or Portia since they embody steryotypes and thus may require more adjustments in order to move beyond those steryotypes but it is still something to be considered.

Furthermore, at least part of why continuing to engage with fandoms like Harry potter may be discomfroting is that the problematic creators continuet to get revenue for their creation, Nyx hydra has since disbanded and while Dorian has put little effort into considering or developing awareness of these characters and their problems they at the very least were not the one to create the problematic traits of the characters. It is still a little bit of a questionable group but besides vibes, and the possibility of using ai art I cannot say anything for certian.

My arguements are not encouraging you by any means to re-join or re-engage with the fandom, it's mostly just an explanation as to why I'm still here or why other people may still be here too, but I do agree that people should be aware that there are many problems in the game concerning representation when engaging with it, especially since it presents itself as a seemingly inclusive game. If I were younger at the release of Muriel's ending, or if I played through Asra and Julian's route then, the representation of abuse could have been..... let's just say unhelpful for me. More than anything I don't want someone else who may be in an uncomfortable situation attempt to find solace in escapism only to end up feeling worse than before at the bad represetntation, or at the fandom regurgitating this bad representation rather than trying to dismantle or change it.

Anyways, I'm sorry for dragging you back into this discussion about the Arcana for a while, especially since you mentioned that it's triggering for you. I wish you well in enjoying your other fandoms, or other forms of media.

Thank you again though, for providing me this information on the issue of bird imagery and antisemetism, and thanks for also providing the info about Julian, Portia and Mazlinka and their steyrotypical representation I will take care with writing them if I ever chose to do so.

I do belive you were justified in your concern at promoting the game, but I also thank you for emphasizing that you didn't want to attack or harass anyone who does enjoy this content despite it's many problems and flaws.

[feralgodmothers]

I watched back in the saddle again the other day. And Christ alive. It takes a special kind of irritating to annoy me when you’re not even in the episode. But lo and behold. Mariano annoyed me when he wasn’t even in the episode. I was so pissed at Rory on Dean’s behalf it’s unreal. She’s just so incredibly awful to him post nephew arrival. And the worst part is. I don’t even think she knows what she’s doing.

Sidenote. Is it just me or does Charleston have it in for Rory? I don’t know if it’s classism or sexism. But he’s a prick to her and treats her differently compared to the other students to a detrimental degree. Because at least with Paris you have the excuse of being terrified of her. But with Rory, who’s only real disadvantage is living in another, less fancy, town I think, his treatment her reeks of prejudice. Just wanted to ask your opinion on it.

I had to rewatch the episode because I couldn’t recall it just by the title and oMG ANON NOW I HATE EVERYTHING. 😭😭😭

That episode is so. freaking. miserable, idk how anyone can stand to watch it, much less criticize and mock Dean when he’s feeling at his lowest. My mind still reels at how some Jess stans get so up-in-arms over characters not having enough “understanding and sympathy” just because they don’t coo over their fave after snaps at them like a deranged Rottweiler, but then they turn right around and laugh at the guy who’s girlfriend is treating him like a disposed rag.

Jess certainly casts a long and horrible shadow, doesn’t he?

You know, I used to think that Jess and Rory having a cursed, “doomed-to-fail” relationship was karma in a vague sense for the shady way they came together behind Dean’s back - but now I’m starting to think that Rory and Jess deserved just about every negative aspect of their relationship. Rory ended up cursed with a guy who treats her roughly the same way she treated Dean, and Jess ended up cursed by being constantly compared to Dean. Their combined mistreatment of him came right back to bite them. Jess in this whole situation was the human embodiment of ‘eff around and find out’. Like - you stole this guy’s girlfriend and made it clear you think you’re better than him? Well, here’s karma to point out all the ways you’re not. And then on the flip side with Rory, it’s like yeah - it sucks to be considered an afterthought, doesn’t it Rory? It sucks to have a tight-lipped, emotionally distant partner, doesn’t it Rory? It sucks to have to beg the person you’re dating to do things with you, doesn’t it Rory?

I do get mad at her sometimes. But I can’t ever bring myself to hate her, because it’s like you said - she doesn’t actually know what she’s doing. She was really young and inexperienced, and I don’t think she ever intended to hurt anyone. I think a lot of her dating issues come from the way she tries so hard to be logical and (for lack of a better word) nice about everything she does. I think that for her whole life up until she entered the dating world, she was able to gain control over any complicated situation and mediate any conflict by finding a solution that turns out the best for everyone. I think she desperately wanted to have that same ability in her love life, and then when it didn’t work out that way, she froze and just hoped a magical solution would fall out of the sky if she stalled long enough. I think dating requires a healthy mix of using your mind and heart, and imo - pretty much all of Rory’s questionable decisions come from a severe imbalance of those two things. I think Rory tries to make herself use only her head 99% of the time, so when her heart finally does take the wheel - it’s at the worst times when she’s caught up in some kind of emotional upheaval. She cheated with Dean when she felt like she was drowning at school, she kissed Jess behind Dean’s back when the tide looked to be turning between her parents again, and she kissed Jess behind Logan’s back after the whole bridesmaids controversy. I think her haters just chalk it up to her being “selfish”, but honestly - I think that’s an oversimplification.

As far as Hanlin is concerned - I don’t remember his scenes very much at all, unfortunately. Just based on this episode, I don’t think he had it in for Rory, but I’ll have to rewatch the show for real to pick up on that one.

[nctsplug02]

can i have an all fluff and sweet idol bf mark (you two are secretly dating) but he's all clingy to you while doing a live. idk that mark lee giving taeil a peck lives in my mind rent free 😩 then you can do whatever you want with it after

- 🫐 anon

[10:38PM]

GENRE: fluff and suggestive

WARNINGS: kissing and sort of sexual touching.

“mark, stop touching y/n. is everyone ready?” taeyong says after what the manager says.

mark does a slight pout as he pulls his hands away from you. haechan who’s cuddled next to you snickers at mark who hits the back of the comforter with a ‘hmph.’

“nctzens, it’s been a while. how have you all been?” taeyong asks, fixing his bucket hat. “are you guys steaming ‘2 baddies’?” johnny asks, handing the phone to taeil who hands it back to johnny.

mark leans forward and looks straight at the phone pointing at him before pulling his hand to your shoulder. he brings his head lower to your neck and nips at your neck making you silently wince.

“mark!” you look back with a glare to see his bubbly eyes and his raised eyebrows. “stop.” you drop the glare and shove his shoulder which makes him giggle.

“what is y/n and mark doing?” johnny reads and everyone turns their attention to you and mark. “yeah, guys. whatcha’ll doin’?” taeil says with his chin tilted to his chest and his eyebrows moving up and down.

you attempt to sit up but mark holds you down. “we aren’t doing anything. mark is just being a butthead.” mark laughs and stammers over his words. “am not?! y/n just feels warm because she has a blanket and i have cold feet, right now.” as he finishes his sentence, his cold foot slides down your bare back.

“mark!” you yelp and jump up making him and the others laugh. “his feet are really cold, guys! it’s no joke!” you rub your back with a shiver.

after you’re sat back between marks legs, johnny begins to read more questions and taeyong answers with yuta zoning off into illusion.

“mark,” you warn quietly when feeling someone’s warm breath near your shoulder. “what, you smell good.” you feel what you think is is nose brush against your neck. “you always smell good— you literally don’t use cologne and yet, you still manage to smell good.” you roll your eyes while mark giggles on your neck.

“the secret is to just use the original smell of your laundry detergent.” you turn around and you grab a fistful of his shirt, bringing your nose to it and taking a whiff. “hm, what brand is this laundry detergent?” mark smirks. “we share it, silly.”

mark takes his as the opportunity to kiss you. you gasp and push at his chest but, his open palm holds you still.

“guys,” haechan whisper in a hushed tone before pushing the two of you apart. “knock it off!” he points to the two of you with an annoyed face. “but, he—?!” you start but haechan shakes his head.

you huff and turn around with crossed arms and a pout on your lips. “guys, mark is a butthead. he pinched my neck and flicked my forehead.” everyone laughs at your sulking tone. “i’m the biggest butthead because id do it, again.” you turn and flick mark on the head which he whines and falls onto your shoulder.

“yo, y/n smells so good.” you tut and scoot forward with angry eyebrows. “mark is being really weird right now. we use the same shampoo— we all do?!” you stand up and walk off out of the frame.

“i should go apologize.” mark quickly gets up and follows you out the practice room.

“babe?” mark calls for you in a hushed tone while jogging after you. “mark, leave me alone. i need to be alone right now.” you let out a “oomf” as mark tosses his arms around you.

mark presses a kiss on your shoulder. “cmon, lets go to the café downstairs— i’ll buy us some of the new cheesecake they put out today.” he shakes your shoulders in a way to try to convince you.

“fine,” you shrug him off. “only because it looks yummy— i saw it this morning while they were loading it in.” you get all giddy over the different flavors of cheesecake you saw.

“ah, there’s my girl.” mark sighs and wraps his arms around your waist only for you to smack it off.

the cheesecake was good— so, was the sex ten minutes after.